at my lunch table

i just started a twitter account a couple weeks ago, and so far, it's serving the purpose for which i meant it: keeping up with world news headlines. at first, it was overwhelming, the amount of things that go on; the constant update and/or correction of facts and figures. and how exactly does one go about getting- what is it?- retweeted?

aha, i see.

still, the news corporations, businesses, entrepreneurs, actors, authors, musicians; etc. that i have decided to follow on twitter have all delighted me in this one way: they all seem to follow each other.

and you're like, "Duh, Justine. Celebrities follow celebrities. Normal people wish celebrities followed them."

be that as it may, it's not just celebrities following celebrities- they are, after all, still normal people just following other normal people (for the record, they only seem so fabulously abnormal because we know them, but we don't know them- at least the strangers we encounter on a daily basis are actually strangers. anyway...); and because they're still just people they follow the people they admire, or are their friends. so when i find that MIKA follows Neil Gaiman and Jamie Cullum, and that Alton Brown follows Jamie Hyneman my first thought is: "Oh, my gosh! We could all sit at the same lunch table, and all get along!"




you ever have that writing prompt presented to you? "If you could have lunch/dinner/tea with any five people, dead or alive (perhaps not yet born) who would they be and why?" well, according to the amount i follow on twitter, i'd have a hard time picking just five, and they're all alive so i don't even have to wait for them to be born or resurrect any of them from the dead.

EXCELLENT!

now i just have to make sure i find the perfect day for all their schedules to coincide... oh, and i can't forget: i also need to find the perfect stationery for the invitations, and the appropriate location-!

IS THAT DOMINIC COOPER TOM HIDDLESTON IS FOLLOWING? oh, wait, duh- they're both involved with 'The Avengers'. right. okay. i forgot. that's about as normal as me following my friends.

okay.

man, i hope one day i get to meet some of these people, even for just a handshake.









edit: 12 November 2013--i just realized all the people i mentioned i followed are all older white males. hmm, well, whatever- we're all human, right? but i suppose that also says i really need some female role models, huh?

DIY: Origami Bookmarks

So, I have this odd habit. You know how people enjoy knitting because they can socialize while knitting a scarf or sweater? Well, I like to fold origami bookmarks, although when I fold origami bookmarks it's not so I can talk to other people. On the contrary, I fold origami bookmarks while I'm thinking. So, you can imagine, I've a surplus of these little buggers. I do, however, like to give them away, but on the off-chance I never meet you I'd like to show you how to make them.

Here we go [: Hope you enjoy.

First things first, you don't need to have origami paper. Origami paper is certainly a plus, but it's not essential. Any kind of paper will do. I once had a friend use Post-It notes. As long as the paper is a square, or can be cut into square, you're good to go.

For this DIY I've used origami paper I bought at Barnes & Noble. Around $7 for, like, 500 sheets, all with different designs. This is the design I've chosen. I thought it reminiscent of Japanese screen printing, therefore, appropriate for the Chinese art of paper folding. (Well, actually, the art of paper-folding also seems to originate from places like Germany, Italy, and Spain...but for now, I'll consider it an explicitly Asian art.)

This sheet is about 3x3 inches, and only printed on one side. Because I'm frugal, I like to rip these squares into even smaller squares. You don't have to. If you want a larger bookmark, by all means, skip the first few steps.

step one: fold the sheet in half (you may want to do this more than once so it'll be easier to rip in half)

step two: rip sheet in half

See, it's like mitosis. Now you've got four smaller squares with which you'll be able to make four origami bookmarks.

step three: select one of the smaller squares and fold in half, side to side. do this to both sides.

step four: now fold in half diagonally

I know the lines are faint, but you see how you've got an asterisk now? Good.

step five: take one of the corners and fold it to meet the very middle

step six: now fold again, tucking the small triangle underneath

For the next few steps, you'll want to position the paper so that it looks like an upright pyramid.

step seven: take either of the bottom angles and fold to meet the very top of the pyramid

step eight: tuck edges into the pocket

What pocket? I'll show you. 

Then you're done! YAY!

Put in your books now!

Have fun with these. Feel free to show me some you've made. Or maybe you could show me another way to make an origami bookmark.

Funny thing about emotions...

So, the funny thing about emotions-. No, wait. The natural thing about emotions: they change. They're supposed to change. People whose emotions don't change are annoying and fake. We don't like annoying and fake. We like honesty and realness. Now the funny thing about honesty and realness is that one can often be too honest and real? You think that's impossible? Well, have you ever verbalized what's really on your mind when you're angry? That's being too honest.

One of the greatest, most precious, consequences of being too honest, however, is discovering who won't hate you for it. Discovering who won't run away from you. Also discovering how much you might need to change in order to deserve the people who won't hate you, or run away from you.

I've been told that change is good. I like change. I don't like big changes toppling after me like dominoes. I like subtle changes. I appreciate subtlety. I like when-the-ocean-beats-against-the-rocks change. I like slow, steady change. Change that must occur day to day, like routines, so that when I turn around to see the hole I've dug, I've actually not dug a hole at all. Really, any holes I might have dug are just exits out of the mound! Ooh, like Edmond Dantès and the Priest digging out a tunnel! Or!- or like Andy Dufresne! Yeah, Andy!- you redeem Shawshank!

But back to emotions naturally changing.

If emotions didn't change I wouldn't know the people I do. If my emotions never changed- well, I- I wouldn't've known such great things as love, longing, friendship and sadness exist beyond my imagination; that these emotions exist as fluidly and abundantly in a stranger's life as in my life. That's a sad existence: to live without others.

No man is an island. Even monks live in community, however solitary.

Even the annoying, fake ones--what's life without them? What if they want to change in order to deserve your friendship? What if they're waiting for someone who's willing to be that person who will hear too much honesty and realness? I don't know. Maybe. It's just a thought I had.

Because sometimes I don't like how my emotions change. Sometimes I wish I didn't have to feel so self-conscious, aware of someone's compliments or insults--what then would my reason over-think if I didn't have these emotions?

Ah, I must be a whole person:

"And all the time--such is the tragi-comedy of our situation--we continue to clamour for those very qualities we are rendering impossible. You can hardly open a periodical without coming across the statement that what our civilization needs is more 'drive', or dynamism, or self-sacrifice, or 'creativity.' In a sort of ghastly simplicity we remove the organ and demand the function. We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honor and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful." -C.S. Lewis' The Abolition of Man

Yes, this is a little out of context. A lot out of context, but basically!- I become upset with others who treat me poorly--who did not give me my dues--but who've I treated poorly? Who've I disregarded? Who've I walked all over? I probably have done all those things. I'm not better than the person who did so to me.

I can't expect someone to be virtuous, enterprising, beautiful, endearing, encouraging without being so myself? Not that I'm going to walk around showing everyone what it means to be all those things--that's stupid. But to just be those things, right? Am I right?

Ah, I'm probably wrong.

All I know is that I can't be afraid of fickle emotions. I can't be afraid of angry, sad or bitter thoughts for these emotions give way to peace, happiness and contentment.

Have a good night.

Garden Variety

Fears will always present themselves and unlike gardens, there's nothing I can lay down underneath the nutritious dirt, no newspaper, mesh, nothing that will keep a weed like fear from growing. And so what if weeds start to grow? Is there nothing more satisfying than pulling them up myself, personally uprooting the little buggers with my own hands: you see, I own my fears, not the other way around.

Although, you know, I'm not even sure I know what I'm growing. I really ought to label all the rows.

Hopefully, I've planted a garden variety of dreams.

Hopefully, I'll have planted ripe, juicy  red tomato-y dreams, alongside practical, sturdy brown potato; only to be complemented by the deep, warm purple eggplant. I could hardly do without the smooth, cool green cucumber, and I find it hard to believe that anyone wouldn't want to plant tart, distinct white onions, or the nutty, sweet orange carrot. Will I have the fun blueberries, strawberries; the exotic mangoes and grapes?

Hopefully, my garden will have basil, cilantro, mint and rosemary, thyme, dill, chives and coriander--I don't even know how to use these herbs--for what's life without flavor? (Can I grow spices?) I think I've also planted tulips, roses, maybe I've built a pond with water lilies floating at the water's edge, and koi swimming underneath--what's life without fragrance? 

Hopefully, I'll have built stone paths, and small ledges with a seat or two interrupting the pattern. Maybe I've a gazebo where I've mosaic'd the wood, hoping visitors would reach out to touch and find its hidden surprises--a diamond or two in the rough.

Well, now, I can't feel half as afraid now, can I?

And even if I did plant an entire field of corn in the hopes of planting different fruits and vegetables, what's to stop a lioness from hunting in it? 

"Secondhand Lions"