And it is rare--but at those small rare moments I find slipping through the cracks of my pride I lose it.
I can barely ever hide from things physically because my hair is like a huge flame throwing eyes immediately to it, making old ladies stop me in the street to talk to me about how they had hair just like me when they were little and you know, I'm fine with that. Afterall, most of the time, I'm lost and when I'm not I always like compliments on my parents genes going around and I like sweet little old ladies (Who doesn't? They're adorable!).
But this rare ginger hating moment stems not from my actual hair, oh no no no, it stems from the indications of my hair to my skin color, which is not JUST white bread, it is like bread bleached in cream cheese, it's like a blinding, flourescent-light-shoved-up-your-eye-socket white, a white that will never get darker no matter how many times I TRY to dance my sweet small-town behind like a black ghetto booty can or tan or rub dirt into my skin--well actually i can't say that one, I've never tried it--but you get the POINT! And I do not shame in my skin color or my race. I am far from it! I am white and nerdy and you couldn't do anything to changeme! I have never had, nor will ever want to be something I am not except for, maybe, in times of EXCRUCIATING PAIN. And let me tell you honey, not being able to sleep for three nights or painlessly wear a bra is wearing me down.
I have a sunburn--a sunburn as red as the Kool-Aid man. A sunburn almost the whole length of my back, but, my dear readers, it FEELS like a football field. IT HURTS when it comes in contact with ANYTHING. It hurts to lean back, lay down, turn around, run, wear a bra, or even stand with good posture!
And I understand the concept of sunscreen, I do, I swear, I even put some on on the said pool day that led to this disasterous yucky pain. I will admit however that, though I should be for the sake of my skin, I am NOT a sunscreen extremist. I am not one that thinks about it all that time or that has a stop watch for my effing suncream, because sunscreen is gross and oily and I hate having it on my skin and clogging my pores and I want to ENJOY MY LIFE not worry about things. And so, on this day, in this cranky sleepy mood, with this paper-skinned back, I am done. I HATE being a redhead and I HATE having pale skin, in this moment, for this one thing. I am done.
In the future I will remember this and be more careful, I will sunscreen it up, and maybe make a dance that is called "Das Einschmieren Tanz". Sunburns make things complicated and painful and not fun. I don't want them, but being a sunscreen nazi doesn't make anything enjoyable either. I will try my very best and hopefully find the balance that makes my life the most convenient to enjoy. Thank you for reading my silly rant about myself and my superficial mistakes. Have a pleasant day and week.
Love, Deni
Sonntag, 29. Mai 2011
Freitag, 27. Mai 2011
The redhead analyzes.
To analyze: is to separate (a material or abstract entity) into constituent parts or elements; determine the elements or essential features of; (opposed to synthesize): to analyze an argument. (Thank you dictionary.com)
How many things do we analyze? Well for starters we could analyze the word "analyze": The word analyze sprang from a latin word: Analysis. This word is still the noun in English. The spelling of the word "analyze" varies from British to American English where in the former the word is spelled with an "s" instead of the latter's "z", but they are both at the end pronounced "-ize" as in "size". And depsite all the good intentions meant in this spelling, it never takes away from the fact that the word "anal" is in it, and well... that's just hilarious. It's like saying the word "duty" you just can't help it, childishness is a necessity that no one can escape.
Today we were analyzing poetry in German class, which seems surprisingly unpopular with almost all the students I have met so far in Germany. I'm not sure why that is, but I think it might have something to do with the abundance of poetry from the Baroque Period, Renaissance, the Middle Ages, and all the upity-dupity fancy language that is sometimes even spelled at least a little strangely and the rather less amount of more contemporary poetry that is easier and directer. I might be wrong about that, but at any rate we never really study slam poetry in class, so forget about that. I sort of understand the not wanting to think too deeply into words, it can create headaches if you aren't a wordy type of person. But I LOOOVEEE Poetry, and analyzing it. For me analyzing poetry is that feeling a scientist gets when they are finally allowed to pull something apart to see how it works.
But poetry and literature aren't the only things that can be analyzed-- what about a situation? Like for instance how I should have probably better analyzed my situation while I was at the Stetten pool on Wednesday and immediately applied sunscreen and done it every two hours, so that I would not have gotten huge cow splotches of tomato-red burn on my pale, papery skin in awkward formations. But alas, this type of analysis is not my most proficient: is it not that I cannot do it well, it is that I simply forget to do it sometimes or decide not to on a whim. On this particular afternoon I thought, "It can't be that bad, I will just wait a little while. I will put some on later, eventually, when I know I should, afterall the sun is warm and big and happy and I want to dose quietly in it's smiles." But God, who knew I should have been studying for Chemistry at that very moment because I had my test the very next day, handled fate how he felt, on his whims and left me for days unable to sleep comfortably due to the awful pains upon the collision of anything with my skin.
Or how about scientific anaylsis? I have only one solid problem with scientific analysis, I do not speak scientist, I speak DENI ANNE, a language that is simple and sweet and loud and has no real boundaries of politeness. For example: Why the hell should I have to say " feces" or "fecal matter" when I could just say "poop"? I mean seriously? Are you uncomfortable with the word "poop" Mr. Biologist? Then why the hell are you trying to everything harder than it is!? I swear if I am ever a biology teacher (unlikely) I will NEVER say fecal matter or feces, I will say poop, because then everyone's on the same page and no one need get uncomfortable about such words! Same with sex, "intercourse"? REALLY?
Or you could analyze further that it seems to be part of the American culture to shut out and make uncomfortable and unacceptable everything normal and natural about our bodies and our processes. And I don't know maybe it's me, but undressing around other people in the US always seems unusually awkward in comparison with here. Not just at Locker Rooms, I mean, even at sleepovers!!! I have never had a public shower in the US, but here, I take one after almost ever soccer game we have. Even discussing such things is awkward when you make it that way. But why?
WELL I HAVE NO CLUE! I'm done with analyzing for now, you can analyze further in the commments if you want.
Have a happy weekend and summer for those of you in America who now have the whole summer off (who I am angry at)!!!!!
<3
How many things do we analyze? Well for starters we could analyze the word "analyze": The word analyze sprang from a latin word: Analysis. This word is still the noun in English. The spelling of the word "analyze" varies from British to American English where in the former the word is spelled with an "s" instead of the latter's "z", but they are both at the end pronounced "-ize" as in "size". And depsite all the good intentions meant in this spelling, it never takes away from the fact that the word "anal" is in it, and well... that's just hilarious. It's like saying the word "duty" you just can't help it, childishness is a necessity that no one can escape.
Today we were analyzing poetry in German class, which seems surprisingly unpopular with almost all the students I have met so far in Germany. I'm not sure why that is, but I think it might have something to do with the abundance of poetry from the Baroque Period, Renaissance, the Middle Ages, and all the upity-dupity fancy language that is sometimes even spelled at least a little strangely and the rather less amount of more contemporary poetry that is easier and directer. I might be wrong about that, but at any rate we never really study slam poetry in class, so forget about that. I sort of understand the not wanting to think too deeply into words, it can create headaches if you aren't a wordy type of person. But I LOOOVEEE Poetry, and analyzing it. For me analyzing poetry is that feeling a scientist gets when they are finally allowed to pull something apart to see how it works.
But poetry and literature aren't the only things that can be analyzed-- what about a situation? Like for instance how I should have probably better analyzed my situation while I was at the Stetten pool on Wednesday and immediately applied sunscreen and done it every two hours, so that I would not have gotten huge cow splotches of tomato-red burn on my pale, papery skin in awkward formations. But alas, this type of analysis is not my most proficient: is it not that I cannot do it well, it is that I simply forget to do it sometimes or decide not to on a whim. On this particular afternoon I thought, "It can't be that bad, I will just wait a little while. I will put some on later, eventually, when I know I should, afterall the sun is warm and big and happy and I want to dose quietly in it's smiles." But God, who knew I should have been studying for Chemistry at that very moment because I had my test the very next day, handled fate how he felt, on his whims and left me for days unable to sleep comfortably due to the awful pains upon the collision of anything with my skin.
Or how about scientific anaylsis? I have only one solid problem with scientific analysis, I do not speak scientist, I speak DENI ANNE, a language that is simple and sweet and loud and has no real boundaries of politeness. For example: Why the hell should I have to say " feces" or "fecal matter" when I could just say "poop"? I mean seriously? Are you uncomfortable with the word "poop" Mr. Biologist? Then why the hell are you trying to everything harder than it is!? I swear if I am ever a biology teacher (unlikely) I will NEVER say fecal matter or feces, I will say poop, because then everyone's on the same page and no one need get uncomfortable about such words! Same with sex, "intercourse"? REALLY?
Or you could analyze further that it seems to be part of the American culture to shut out and make uncomfortable and unacceptable everything normal and natural about our bodies and our processes. And I don't know maybe it's me, but undressing around other people in the US always seems unusually awkward in comparison with here. Not just at Locker Rooms, I mean, even at sleepovers!!! I have never had a public shower in the US, but here, I take one after almost ever soccer game we have. Even discussing such things is awkward when you make it that way. But why?
WELL I HAVE NO CLUE! I'm done with analyzing for now, you can analyze further in the commments if you want.
Have a happy weekend and summer for those of you in America who now have the whole summer off (who I am angry at)!!!!!
<3
Sonntag, 22. Mai 2011
The redhead freestylin'.
Where stone towers in wild spikes into heaven like a bread knife, the clouds sticking between it's wobbly teeth. Where your feet carry you too fast and your eyes never have enough time to really see and the steep slopes grumble their morning mishaps into hiking boot souls; the grass sighing contentedly.
This is where I see everything, where I've found a second home: a world where valleys roll out like dough colored alive and vineyards spike the wild too-tall trees. This world here has wrinkled eyes, and knowing hands that see the way that life just spans... forever. And the things I tend to think at times like these are how hard it will be to please my two-tongued soul: for every tongue comes with slight differences in taste.
Germany spoils me like a clueless child, the (grand)fatherland with kisses and tones so mild, love so wild, that being ripped from it's soil may cripple me a while.
You see, I just want both with all of the people, the language, the food. But then again together, were neither the same--it would be a rude immitation without the same name.
And I love the US, believe me, I do. I often sing undertone of red, white, and blue. My sweet apple pie promise, a silly illogical world, it needs some help, maybe, but you gotta love it's twirling heart, swinging in open circles and looking at the sky, just wants to get dizzy, never meant to lie. It is warm and big, and proud, big mouth too--it's thinking for the good, it tries to sing on the right key, and it's not always right on but eventually, I believe it will find that with practice.
I love these two places, miles apart. Both homes, both beautiful, both made with the hands from the heart.
This is where I see everything, where I've found a second home: a world where valleys roll out like dough colored alive and vineyards spike the wild too-tall trees. This world here has wrinkled eyes, and knowing hands that see the way that life just spans... forever. And the things I tend to think at times like these are how hard it will be to please my two-tongued soul: for every tongue comes with slight differences in taste.
Germany spoils me like a clueless child, the (grand)fatherland with kisses and tones so mild, love so wild, that being ripped from it's soil may cripple me a while.
You see, I just want both with all of the people, the language, the food. But then again together, were neither the same--it would be a rude immitation without the same name.
And I love the US, believe me, I do. I often sing undertone of red, white, and blue. My sweet apple pie promise, a silly illogical world, it needs some help, maybe, but you gotta love it's twirling heart, swinging in open circles and looking at the sky, just wants to get dizzy, never meant to lie. It is warm and big, and proud, big mouth too--it's thinking for the good, it tries to sing on the right key, and it's not always right on but eventually, I believe it will find that with practice.
I love these two places, miles apart. Both homes, both beautiful, both made with the hands from the heart.
Dienstag, 17. Mai 2011
The redhead had her math test today.
And as far as i can tellit went rather well, I think it was my best Math test so far. (YAY!)
But besides math things have been hopin'. I've been stressin' about testin' lately, but ya know, testing ain't so bad when it's over... then I can fall onmy backside and enjoy the sun for three seconds until the next one curls up around my spine when I wasn't looking.
But I got over the big ones that were to happen directly after the spring break, so I am rather satisfied.
Today for me was tiring but also a very good day. We had Gym after Math (and just if you didn't know how badly I can no longer speak english, just notice how I keep randomly capitalizing my nouns... : P). We worked on the long jump and then after did this awful sprinting exercise that only three people in the class completely finished. I was the last one that was made to leave, but after that I was done, I was tired, I had an energy level of zero point zero zero. Somehow I just managed to slump through the geography period to lunch, but we also went to the bakery much closer to the school than our normal bakery even though it is more expensive because none of us to go further to be honest. We sat for our lunch hour in the quad throwing bits of bread in the pond and watching the fish devour them in crazy ripples like iron shavings being sucked to a powerful magnet. We talked and looked at the pictures in the clouds or lay quietly, almost asleep. We named ourselves the queens of grass or flowers. It was chill.
Aftersuch a good lunch break returning to the dreary building was like being unwillingly swallowed by a very unpleasantly yucky slimy thing. Biology was not such a big help in distinguishing this metaphor either, inthe fiveminute break I nearly fell asleep on Caro's chair while she talked to Amelie. I felt like a drift dust mote, I just needed a little corner to float to, to fall in to, to be forgotten.
In other news, shout out to Löki Gale Tobin who I believe should now be visiting home: I love you, hope you have a great time in the good old US of A and I would also like to express my complete surprise at the victory of Azerbaijan in the Eurovision competition.... it was a little strange. (:
Have a great week!
But besides math things have been hopin'. I've been stressin' about testin' lately, but ya know, testing ain't so bad when it's over... then I can fall onmy backside and enjoy the sun for three seconds until the next one curls up around my spine when I wasn't looking.
But I got over the big ones that were to happen directly after the spring break, so I am rather satisfied.
Today for me was tiring but also a very good day. We had Gym after Math (and just if you didn't know how badly I can no longer speak english, just notice how I keep randomly capitalizing my nouns... : P). We worked on the long jump and then after did this awful sprinting exercise that only three people in the class completely finished. I was the last one that was made to leave, but after that I was done, I was tired, I had an energy level of zero point zero zero. Somehow I just managed to slump through the geography period to lunch, but we also went to the bakery much closer to the school than our normal bakery even though it is more expensive because none of us to go further to be honest. We sat for our lunch hour in the quad throwing bits of bread in the pond and watching the fish devour them in crazy ripples like iron shavings being sucked to a powerful magnet. We talked and looked at the pictures in the clouds or lay quietly, almost asleep. We named ourselves the queens of grass or flowers. It was chill.
Aftersuch a good lunch break returning to the dreary building was like being unwillingly swallowed by a very unpleasantly yucky slimy thing. Biology was not such a big help in distinguishing this metaphor either, inthe fiveminute break I nearly fell asleep on Caro's chair while she talked to Amelie. I felt like a drift dust mote, I just needed a little corner to float to, to fall in to, to be forgotten.
In other news, shout out to Löki Gale Tobin who I believe should now be visiting home: I love you, hope you have a great time in the good old US of A and I would also like to express my complete surprise at the victory of Azerbaijan in the Eurovision competition.... it was a little strange. (:
Have a great week!
Mittwoch, 11. Mai 2011
The redhead has been thinking about the research.
This is the internet. If you are reading this, you are on it, you are a part of it, giving and taking. The internet is a new form of media, bursting from socks and hats and hidden places we never knew were there.
Good, now, with that in mind, in elementary school I learned how to use a library. We had to learn the Dewy Decimal System. We played a game of it, running from the bookshelves to the card catalog, the first to find all the books on the list and have it checked by the teacher won. I still remember my elementary school library, the tables, each with eight chairs, the shelves at front were the fiction section, Harry Potter always hovering behind the librarians right leg as she toldus stories. The books about mythology (a very small collection that I read very quickly) was at the other end of the library and around the corner, the biographies in the back. I could probably go in there and still know exactly about it all, if it hasn't been changed around (which i'm sure it has been).
I remember once we had to do these presentations about animals and everyone was assigned an animal. Everyone wanted to do the presentation on a cheetah or lion, I wanted to do mine on the black bear, but somebody else pciked it first and I cried. I got howler monkey instead, which was actually ok. We had to learn about them in the library using the books and then talk about it in front of the class with a special puppet that the teacher had for each person to use. Before I left the fifth grade to go to the BIG SCARY MIDDLE SCHOOL, I was allowed to make a cover for my favorite book in the library-- I made one for Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.... I wonder if it is still there.
But we are off topic!
I realized yesterday that I wouldn't know where to go for research today if there were no computers.... if i have a question I ask google or bing or ask.com (what was once ask jeeves, but as of now has no jeeves which saddens me thoroughly). I am so ridiculously dependent on computers that I can't even believe it. And I've been starting to feel guilty about it, like it is an awful habit, like I have no idea how to have fun or operate when it's not through this damn machine. I like day when I have been computer suspended, where I can go outside and breath air and move my body ormaybe just read a book, climba tree, talk to a PERSON.
There are obvious benefits to the internet and computers of course, it is now easierto get information than ever before, but also makes it easier to get false information than ever before instead of the right stuff. The internet is democratic with voices spewing everywhere, but if the information that they recieve in the first place is wrong, how are wesupposed to have any valid opinions or words? How are we supposed to act correctly? Everyone seems to be running away with technology! Even books are being digitalized! And I ask myself what happened to paper and pencils? What happened to a bibliography that you slaved over for hours writing out by hand?
But overrall I do love the internet, the internet makes communicating across an oceanmuch easier, makes communication in general much easier. Love andmiss you all at home, hope you have a great week!
Deni
Good, now, with that in mind, in elementary school I learned how to use a library. We had to learn the Dewy Decimal System. We played a game of it, running from the bookshelves to the card catalog, the first to find all the books on the list and have it checked by the teacher won. I still remember my elementary school library, the tables, each with eight chairs, the shelves at front were the fiction section, Harry Potter always hovering behind the librarians right leg as she toldus stories. The books about mythology (a very small collection that I read very quickly) was at the other end of the library and around the corner, the biographies in the back. I could probably go in there and still know exactly about it all, if it hasn't been changed around (which i'm sure it has been).
I remember once we had to do these presentations about animals and everyone was assigned an animal. Everyone wanted to do the presentation on a cheetah or lion, I wanted to do mine on the black bear, but somebody else pciked it first and I cried. I got howler monkey instead, which was actually ok. We had to learn about them in the library using the books and then talk about it in front of the class with a special puppet that the teacher had for each person to use. Before I left the fifth grade to go to the BIG SCARY MIDDLE SCHOOL, I was allowed to make a cover for my favorite book in the library-- I made one for Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.... I wonder if it is still there.
But we are off topic!
I realized yesterday that I wouldn't know where to go for research today if there were no computers.... if i have a question I ask google or bing or ask.com (what was once ask jeeves, but as of now has no jeeves which saddens me thoroughly). I am so ridiculously dependent on computers that I can't even believe it. And I've been starting to feel guilty about it, like it is an awful habit, like I have no idea how to have fun or operate when it's not through this damn machine. I like day when I have been computer suspended, where I can go outside and breath air and move my body ormaybe just read a book, climba tree, talk to a PERSON.
There are obvious benefits to the internet and computers of course, it is now easierto get information than ever before, but also makes it easier to get false information than ever before instead of the right stuff. The internet is democratic with voices spewing everywhere, but if the information that they recieve in the first place is wrong, how are wesupposed to have any valid opinions or words? How are we supposed to act correctly? Everyone seems to be running away with technology! Even books are being digitalized! And I ask myself what happened to paper and pencils? What happened to a bibliography that you slaved over for hours writing out by hand?
But overrall I do love the internet, the internet makes communicating across an oceanmuch easier, makes communication in general much easier. Love andmiss you all at home, hope you have a great week!
Deni
Donnerstag, 5. Mai 2011
The redhead isn't sure what she thinks.
Where do we get our opinions from?
Well, I think that we get our opinions from our own beliefs and feelings and knowledge, but our opinions are also very heavily influenced by our parents and our friends-- people we look up to, people we believe in. And this is the partisanship of humanity: Humans are trusting. Humans (for the most part) want to trust, want to believe everything, want the world to be unlying and pure and pretty and true (and at least at the beginning they believe that it will be). Who wants a fake world? Life is not made of paper and plastic lies held up with toothpicks.
But, how do we know anything is true? How do we even know that when we sit down to watch the news, that things will be true? Well, we don't, not entirely. We can never be completely sure. Because though people like to trust, people also like to use that trust, to corrupt the trust.
I trust in my family, and my friends. I trust in myself. andin this trust and this influence they have on me, I tend to see things the way that they do. I tend to like eating seafood. I tend to like wearing converse sneakers. I like to make up silly words. I tend to be of a more politically liberal mind. And I don't know if I would do those things, would be this same person that likes seafood if it weren't for them, because they are a part of me and I trust them and their judgement.
Being seperated from them and their opinions, and being suddenly in an entirely different country gives you different people to trust, different opinions to draw on, and different eyes to see through.
And here's the thing. If I were in America at the time that Osama Bin Laden died, with my friends, my family, and all the people who's eyes are easy for me to see out of, I would have high-hived someone, I would have probably whooped. Awesome! This dude, who killed thousands of people that one day that I was in first grade and ruined storytime is FINALLY dead. That guy who I can only think of with the undertones of kindergarten memories turned sour: sitting on the bus next to my dosing father as our class took a trip to New York City, my first trip, and I craned my neck to see those two ginormous buildings far in the distance. They were bigger than big bird, they were taller than my dad times five thousand, but they were just dominos we stacked on one another, and another, and another. They fall just as easily. And the sound of his name has meant nothing to me than a New York City I barely knew before it came crashing to it's knees. A name I have heard since my childhood as frequently, or perhaps more frequently than Bugs Bunny. A name that order the death of thousands of innocent, unaware Americans who just on their way to work, to get money, to feed their family, to live their life.
But here, I'm not so sure. Here we talk more abouthow he wasn't armed, how he was with his own family, living peacefully in a house in a country that America has no (or should not have) power over to just seize residents and kill them point blank. They talk about how no one really wanted him anymore anyway, how he wasn't hurting anything or anyone. they talk about how his wife ran at the man holding the gun shielding her husband and was accidentally shot in the leg. And I wonder what she said to them in her language, if she pleaded that they let him go, that she loved him, if they understood her at all. I wonder what his children thought as they shot him, if later in life they will always remember that day. I don't know. And neither does any one else really. No one cared to ask.
Is freedom what the USA stands for? Freedom for them to carry their revenge thousands of miles to a country they have no place to be in, let alone give orders in. And....
I don't know what to think.
But whatever happens, if we tell them that they need to take the hatred off their shoulders, that means that we must do the same.
Well, I think that we get our opinions from our own beliefs and feelings and knowledge, but our opinions are also very heavily influenced by our parents and our friends-- people we look up to, people we believe in. And this is the partisanship of humanity: Humans are trusting. Humans (for the most part) want to trust, want to believe everything, want the world to be unlying and pure and pretty and true (and at least at the beginning they believe that it will be). Who wants a fake world? Life is not made of paper and plastic lies held up with toothpicks.
But, how do we know anything is true? How do we even know that when we sit down to watch the news, that things will be true? Well, we don't, not entirely. We can never be completely sure. Because though people like to trust, people also like to use that trust, to corrupt the trust.
I trust in my family, and my friends. I trust in myself. andin this trust and this influence they have on me, I tend to see things the way that they do. I tend to like eating seafood. I tend to like wearing converse sneakers. I like to make up silly words. I tend to be of a more politically liberal mind. And I don't know if I would do those things, would be this same person that likes seafood if it weren't for them, because they are a part of me and I trust them and their judgement.
Being seperated from them and their opinions, and being suddenly in an entirely different country gives you different people to trust, different opinions to draw on, and different eyes to see through.
And here's the thing. If I were in America at the time that Osama Bin Laden died, with my friends, my family, and all the people who's eyes are easy for me to see out of, I would have high-hived someone, I would have probably whooped. Awesome! This dude, who killed thousands of people that one day that I was in first grade and ruined storytime is FINALLY dead. That guy who I can only think of with the undertones of kindergarten memories turned sour: sitting on the bus next to my dosing father as our class took a trip to New York City, my first trip, and I craned my neck to see those two ginormous buildings far in the distance. They were bigger than big bird, they were taller than my dad times five thousand, but they were just dominos we stacked on one another, and another, and another. They fall just as easily. And the sound of his name has meant nothing to me than a New York City I barely knew before it came crashing to it's knees. A name I have heard since my childhood as frequently, or perhaps more frequently than Bugs Bunny. A name that order the death of thousands of innocent, unaware Americans who just on their way to work, to get money, to feed their family, to live their life.
But here, I'm not so sure. Here we talk more abouthow he wasn't armed, how he was with his own family, living peacefully in a house in a country that America has no (or should not have) power over to just seize residents and kill them point blank. They talk about how no one really wanted him anymore anyway, how he wasn't hurting anything or anyone. they talk about how his wife ran at the man holding the gun shielding her husband and was accidentally shot in the leg. And I wonder what she said to them in her language, if she pleaded that they let him go, that she loved him, if they understood her at all. I wonder what his children thought as they shot him, if later in life they will always remember that day. I don't know. And neither does any one else really. No one cared to ask.
Is freedom what the USA stands for? Freedom for them to carry their revenge thousands of miles to a country they have no place to be in, let alone give orders in. And....
I don't know what to think.
But whatever happens, if we tell them that they need to take the hatred off their shoulders, that means that we must do the same.
Dienstag, 3. Mai 2011
The redhead is SO TIRED.
There is a part of your brain called the Brain Stem! It runs from the thalmus to the spinal chord (No idea where the thalmus is? Click the word Brain Stem in the line above to see a picture of the brain!) and has three little tiny pieces that, despite their physical size, are hugely enormously important to the operation of vital functions of the body! The three peices are the Pons (latin for bridge), the Reticular Formation, and the Medulla.
The Pons is the bridge between the two halves of that silly brain of yours, without it you wouldn't be able to understand yourself, let alone the world around you!
The Medulla is the bottom part of the Brain Stem, closest to the Spinal Chord, and makes sure your body does things like breathe, and also that your hearts beats, your blood pressure stays stable, and regulates wakefulness so that you don't just randomly fall asleep in the midst of everyday activities (because that would be embarrassing).
And finally we come to the little peice between the Medulla and the Pons called the Reticular Formation! This little worker sorts the information sent to your brain for the important stuff that needs to be passed on to the Thalmus as well as managing your digestion, your blood circulation, your patterns in sleep, your attentiveness, and arousal (Growwwll :). Just gotta say, that is a pretty damn funny combination of functions to be squashed all together in one small peice of your brain.
But anyway the reason we are talking about this at all is because this part of the brain (the Reticular formation) is also the same one that scientist believe is why we yawn! Basically, if your little information sorter starts getting bored because he's not recieving enough information to sort he just goes all "your are getting verrrrrrrrrry sleeeeeeeeepppyyyyy" and you yawn.
Other funny facts: There has been an observed relationship between errections and yawning (probably because both actions are managed in the same tiny section of the brain), it has also been noted that castrated animals yawnless frequently than uncastrated! There also seems to be a connection between them since an errection is a reaction that through stimulus is functionally independent-- it just happens when this or that happens, spontaneously--and well, so does yawning. When another person yawns across the room you yawn too most of the time! It's contageous!
There was once a woman hospitalized formonths because of "relentless yawning". She would yawn eight times every minute, something that seriously disturbed her breathing pattern, but because one deep yawn can supply about all the alveoli (part in the lungs that takes in oxygen to your blood!) with the oxygen they need this condition was not incredibly deadly, just, as I imagine, super annoying and fascinating!
In your cheek there is a concentration of mutiple veins so that when you yawn the the muscles in your cheek that stretch effect the circulation so that more blood is available for oxygenating!!!
(:
(I got my information from these websites: http://www.baillement.com/recherche/askenazy_reticular.html
http://neurons.wordpress.com/2007/05/30/the-brain-stem-pons-medulla-reticular-formation/ )
The Pons is the bridge between the two halves of that silly brain of yours, without it you wouldn't be able to understand yourself, let alone the world around you!
The Medulla is the bottom part of the Brain Stem, closest to the Spinal Chord, and makes sure your body does things like breathe, and also that your hearts beats, your blood pressure stays stable, and regulates wakefulness so that you don't just randomly fall asleep in the midst of everyday activities (because that would be embarrassing).
And finally we come to the little peice between the Medulla and the Pons called the Reticular Formation! This little worker sorts the information sent to your brain for the important stuff that needs to be passed on to the Thalmus as well as managing your digestion, your blood circulation, your patterns in sleep, your attentiveness, and arousal (Growwwll :). Just gotta say, that is a pretty damn funny combination of functions to be squashed all together in one small peice of your brain.
But anyway the reason we are talking about this at all is because this part of the brain (the Reticular formation) is also the same one that scientist believe is why we yawn! Basically, if your little information sorter starts getting bored because he's not recieving enough information to sort he just goes all "your are getting verrrrrrrrrry sleeeeeeeeepppyyyyy" and you yawn.
Other funny facts: There has been an observed relationship between errections and yawning (probably because both actions are managed in the same tiny section of the brain), it has also been noted that castrated animals yawnless frequently than uncastrated! There also seems to be a connection between them since an errection is a reaction that through stimulus is functionally independent-- it just happens when this or that happens, spontaneously--and well, so does yawning. When another person yawns across the room you yawn too most of the time! It's contageous!
There was once a woman hospitalized formonths because of "relentless yawning". She would yawn eight times every minute, something that seriously disturbed her breathing pattern, but because one deep yawn can supply about all the alveoli (part in the lungs that takes in oxygen to your blood!) with the oxygen they need this condition was not incredibly deadly, just, as I imagine, super annoying and fascinating!
In your cheek there is a concentration of mutiple veins so that when you yawn the the muscles in your cheek that stretch effect the circulation so that more blood is available for oxygenating!!!
(:
(I got my information from these websites: http://www.baillement.com/recherche/askenazy_reticular.html
http://neurons.wordpress.com/2007/05/30/the-brain-stem-pons-medulla-reticular-formation/ )
Sonntag, 1. Mai 2011
The redhead's Mommy is no longer in Europe.
I've been ignoring you my lovely blog. i've been ignoring you because of the physical presence of my mother in Germany. In this time we traveled together to meet distant family, see Munich, and spend time of course in Stuttgart! We spent most of her time here as well with my oma and my aunt.
And I have learned lots of things, I've found lots of answers and more questions. The only thing that was slightly dissappointing was that during the whole time my mother nor my oma or aunt met none of my friends my age. I was planning to bring her to a soccer game but learned too late that it was an away game and I had no way of transporting us there (I thought it was a home game!). It's too bad, but then I guess some of my german friends will just have to come visit me in America (I'm not kidding when I say that I would gladly take an exchange student next year, both my sisters are grown up and our house is empty!).
Some of the funniest moments include our visit in Munich at the Hofbräuhaus (which if you didn't know is one of the freakin' most famous beer houses in the world) where I had a light Weißbier in one of the ginormous Munich beer cups and was a wee bit tipsy (for the first time, in front of my MOM). They sure thought it was funny.
We also noted the how every single goddamn Banhhof in Germany has the exact same billboards featuring the same two new types of ice cream that were themed with the tragic stories of Dr. Schiwago and Gone with the Wind (click on each respectively to see this lovely ice cream) saying that you could buy these ice creams and finally have a "happy ending" to the stories... or something along those lines. Anyway, my aunt became very curious as to how it tasted after we saw thesame billboards five bajillion times and then in turn determined that she needed to try this ice cream and have her happy ending (oh advertising, how effective you are at times). So we searched for it, not very actively until the last few days, when we finally found our happy ending in the Rommelshausen Edeka and brought it home to devour, and oh did we devour. Between the six of us (Myself, mom, aunt, oma, Christian, and Katerina) we finished both containers because advertisement isn't the only thing that makes a product good, so does it's yummified- ness. It was pretty great.
We had a great week, packed and happy and eastery. Chocolately above all. Jesus was a pretty cool guy with some cool ideas (my best friend often likes to call him "the first hippie") but nomatter what you call him, or ifyou worship him or not, you gotta admit-- he was a pretty selfless guy convincing a ginormous bunny to hop around for miles a few days after the anniversary of his death and distribute chocolate to the people of the world. From me, thanks Dude-- your the rockin'est.
And I have learned lots of things, I've found lots of answers and more questions. The only thing that was slightly dissappointing was that during the whole time my mother nor my oma or aunt met none of my friends my age. I was planning to bring her to a soccer game but learned too late that it was an away game and I had no way of transporting us there (I thought it was a home game!). It's too bad, but then I guess some of my german friends will just have to come visit me in America (I'm not kidding when I say that I would gladly take an exchange student next year, both my sisters are grown up and our house is empty!).
Some of the funniest moments include our visit in Munich at the Hofbräuhaus (which if you didn't know is one of the freakin' most famous beer houses in the world) where I had a light Weißbier in one of the ginormous Munich beer cups and was a wee bit tipsy (for the first time, in front of my MOM). They sure thought it was funny.
We also noted the how every single goddamn Banhhof in Germany has the exact same billboards featuring the same two new types of ice cream that were themed with the tragic stories of Dr. Schiwago and Gone with the Wind (click on each respectively to see this lovely ice cream) saying that you could buy these ice creams and finally have a "happy ending" to the stories... or something along those lines. Anyway, my aunt became very curious as to how it tasted after we saw thesame billboards five bajillion times and then in turn determined that she needed to try this ice cream and have her happy ending (oh advertising, how effective you are at times). So we searched for it, not very actively until the last few days, when we finally found our happy ending in the Rommelshausen Edeka and brought it home to devour, and oh did we devour. Between the six of us (Myself, mom, aunt, oma, Christian, and Katerina) we finished both containers because advertisement isn't the only thing that makes a product good, so does it's yummified- ness. It was pretty great.
We had a great week, packed and happy and eastery. Chocolately above all. Jesus was a pretty cool guy with some cool ideas (my best friend often likes to call him "the first hippie") but nomatter what you call him, or ifyou worship him or not, you gotta admit-- he was a pretty selfless guy convincing a ginormous bunny to hop around for miles a few days after the anniversary of his death and distribute chocolate to the people of the world. From me, thanks Dude-- your the rockin'est.
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