Come to Class With Me

A new semester began only about a week ago and I'm already swamped with homework. Most of it isn't really papers or stuff like that, I just have A LOT of reading to do. A LOT. I've already read TWO novels since classes started. Crazy, huh? And I found out that I am going to be reading Moby Dick in my History of the American Novel class. I felt like groaning when I saw that. Moby Dick, is like, 800 pages long! When the time comes to read that, I think it will be a very depressing period for me. But I have already come across some really interesting reads. And ever since I have read these two pieces, I have wanted to make a post about them and share them with you guys.

The first thing I'd like to share with you guys is a poem by E.E. Cummings. (I know, poetry, but don't zone out on me yet, it is actually pretty interesting.) My teacher was talking about how she wants the class to do close readings, and passed out this poem to help serve as an example. As she was passing it out, she was telling us to read it, take a minute to think about it, and then we would discuss it. Now, I wouldn't say that poetry is my strong suit, but I would say I'm adequate enough. However, when I glanced at the words on the page that was handed to me, I thought there was some kind of mistake. I thought I must have gotten a copy that the printer had messed up on. I glanced at the person's copy next to me. Nope. Same thing. I felt a little panic. "Oh crap," I thought. "I can't even READ the poem, how am I supposed to analyze it?" But I pulled myself together. "Jackie," I thought/told myself, "You're a smart cookie. Figure it out." So I looked at the letters on the page, and I began to figure it out. Now I want YOU to look at it:

l(a by e.e. cummings

l(a

le
af
fa

ll

s)
one
l

iness


It's weird at first, isn't it? I attacked the parentheses first, knowing they meant something: "a leaf falls." And then I pieced together the remaining letters: "loneliness." I had figured out what it said, now I had to analyze it. Obviously, the image of a single leaf falling is a lonely one. I had also noticed that the only complete word on the page was "one," emphasizing the loneliness. I had initially thought that the l at the beginning was a one, and I don't think that was an accident on the part of the author, either. He knew the l's looked like ones, and this further supported the loneliness. This was about as far as I got when the class started discussing it. We talked about the inability to read the poem aloud (when poetry is known for the ability to share it verbally), and the fact that it could not be verbally expressed to another supported the isolation theme. One could only understand it by reading it themselves. We also talked about the fact that the loneliness begins before the leaf falls (the letter l is at the very beginning) indicating that the falling leaf isn't the cause for loneliness. The leaf falling is a tangible object expressing an intangible concept. Isn't this cool?


I hope you guys aren't bored with me. Because I have another piece of writing I wanted to share with you guys. But this is a very short story that I read for a literary analysis class:

Butterflies by Patricia Grace

The grandmother plaited her granddaughter's hair and then she said, "Get your lunch. Put it in your bag. Get your apple. You come straight back after school, straight home here. Listen to the teacher," she said. "Do what she say."

Her grandfather was out on the step. He walked down the path with her and out onto the footpath. He said to a neighbor, "Our granddaughter goes to school. She lives with us now."

"She's fine," the neighbor said. "She's terrific with her two plaits in her hair."

"And clever," the grandfather said. "Writes every day in her book."

"She's fine," the neighbor said.

The grandfather waited with his granddaughter by the crossing and then he said, "Go to school. Listen to the teacher. Do what she say."

When the granddaughter came home from school her grandfather was hoeing around the cabbages. Her grandmother was picking beans. They stopped their work.

"You bring your book home?" the grandmother asked.

"Yes."

"You write your story?"

"Yes."

"What's your story?"

"About the butterflies."

"Get your book then. Read your story."

The granddaughter took her book from her schoolbag and opened it.

"I killed all the butterflies," she read. "This is me and this is all the butterflies."

"And your teacher like your story, did she?"

"I don't know."

"What your teacher say?"

"She said butterflies are beautiful creatures. They hatch out and fly in the sun. The butterflies visit all the pretty flowers, she said. They lay their eggs and then they die. You don't kill butterflies, that's what she said."

The grandmother and the grandfather were quiet for a long time, and their granddaughter, holding the book, stood quite still in the warm garden.

"Because you see," the grandfather said, "your teacher, she buy all her cabbages from the supermarket and that's why."


Now. Is that not a remarkably striking story? When I was done reading it, I wasn't even sure what it meant, but I knew there was something amazing about it. I found it very intriguing -with the line the grandfather told the neighbor "she lives with us now" and when I read about the little girl writing about killing butterflies, and then, apparently, drawing a picture displaying this, I was curious. What kind of little girl killed butterflies? And the suspense for the grandparent's reply...and the confusion I had over the grandfather's response. What did he mean? Did he mean that people who didn't have to grow their own crops didn't understand them? I obviously didn't understand them...and I definitely buy my food at the supermarket. This story interested me so much, I had to do a little research. And guess what? I found out that butterflies lay their eggs in cabbage, and when the caterpillars hatch, they eat and destroy the cabbage. That's why farmers, such as the little girl and her grandparents, would kill butterflies. And it all made sense. I don't know why I'm so fascinated with this story, but I am. I like the sparse and stark, though. What did you think of it?

I have some more stuff I really want to write, but I will leave it at this for now.

A Jack Attack Review: Blue Valentine

I have been looking forward to seeing Blue Valentine for MONTHS. MONTHS, I SAY! When I heard about the premise: dual story lines - the past and the present - of a couple's relationship (I find these kinds of things very interesting) and then I heard it had Ryan Gosling (who I absolutely adore) and Michelle Williams in it, I was completely sold. So I watched clips, read reviews from film festival screenings, and waited.

Then there was the whole NC-17 rating debacle, delaying its release even further, and then it was FINALLY screened in theaters on December 29th, but on a very limited release. So, I waited, checking the movie theaters here in Denver daily, until I saw that it would be playing at the Mayan Theatre (thank you, Mayan!) this past Friday, January 14th. I immediately made plans to see it after I got off work that day.

So after all of this waiting, I began to find myself getting worried as I drove downtown to the movie theater. Was this going to be one of my cases where I hyped something up so much, I was only bound to leave disappointed? I was upset, because I had to stay 20 minutes later at my work, and I ended up showing up one trailer before the movie started and the place was packed. I ended up with a crappy seat in the very back, but it was stadium seating, so I was pretty high up and I had a clear shot at the screen without (what seems to be almost always) someone's big head in the way.

So are you ready for me to actually tell you about this movie? Here we go: this movie does something that is very hard for me to explain. The director's name is Derek Cianfrance who I have never heard of, and as far as I know, has never directed any other major motion picture. But I thought he was amazing. I think my two favorite shots are the very first scene and the very last scene and, well, there was also a certain scene where the camera is set inside, looking through a window, watching the couple embrace outside on the sidewalk, that was so beautiful it made me want to cry. Cianfrance is able to capture a feeling so well and so clearly and so simply and so elegantly. I have trouble articulating my thoughts here, but with the simple clips that open the scenes, I am able to know exactly where I am and what I should feel. Does that make sense?

And the acting is amazing. I didn't know if I could love Ryan Gosling any more than I did, but guess what, I can. He was so authentic and real and heart-breaking. And Michelle Williams was fantastic, too. The film, in part, revolves around day-to-day living that is involved in a relationship, and doesn't have the typical Hollywood romance. This is okay with me, but there was one thing that kind of bothered me. I felt like, in order for this film to really resonate with an audience, it needed to be universal, and I felt there was a certain aspect to the story that created a distance between the audience and the characters. (I don't want to give anything away here, because I walked into the movie not knowing this so I don't want to spoil it for anyone else.) When this turn in the plot happened, it bothered me a lot, and it made me start viewing the story differently. I feel like the direction that it had been going within the film would've had a greater emotional intensity.

It was well-acted, visually well-executed, but I still left feeling like something was lacking. I haven't really put my finger on it. I guess I would attribute it to what I mentioned above, the distance I felt at a certain point within the film, but even so, the closing scene really stuck with me. It was as though I could feel the intensity of the moment in my chest, the weightlessness of the point where there are no thoughts, only feelings. So...with that kind of connection at the end, I can't say that this film wasn't good. I've thought about it since, I've even dreamt about certain scenes. But I thought it could have been better. Perhaps I am being too nit-picky.

Ellie Playing

Because I don't really have time to write a real post because I'm insanely busy with finals at school, I'm going to post a video of Ellie that I took about a week ago. She's being a nutter-dog. I don't blame you if you don't watch the whole thing, but I thought it was cute. But again, everyone thinks that their own furry children are cute.

What Not To Wear: Jack Attack Edition

These are certain fashion choices/trends you will most definitely not catch me sporting any time soon:

1. Visible bra straps. I don't know what it is, but it irritates me to no end when a girl wears something where you can see her bra straps. Either wear a strapless, some sort of cover up, or no bra at all. Seriously. What's worse is when the bra is a completely different color than the top, so it stands out that much more. Like a bright pink bra with a black top. Uh-uh. I have no idea why it bothers me so much, I can't trace the origins of my abhorrence to visible bra straps, but I think it looks cheap and sloppy.

2. Animal prints. Any kind of animal print: leopard, cheetah, tiger, giraffe, zebra, etc. I find animal prints (in fashion, and actually, in decor as well) to be the most tacky and the most chintzy display ever. To me, nothing screams "I have no taste!" more. (Sorry to anyone reading this who owns animal prints. It's nothing personal.)

Perhaps you noticed, to be fair, I put two pictures up for the animal print. The first one is more an example of what we're more likely to see on the street, and the second are designer creations with animal print. I can honestly say I don't like either, even the "high-end" animal prints. Ugh, they hurt my eyes to even look.
3. Fur/Feathers. Yes, big surprise, I don't like furs or feathers. I think feathers look campy, and I think fur, more especially, is extremely gaudy. But not only do I dislike the aesthetic of both, I would never, ever wear any fur based on morality issues. (Doesn't it kind of creep you out to touch real fur or feathers? It definitely creeps me out.) Even faux fur and synthetic feathers I wouldn't wear. I just don't care for it.

4. Skins. (Things are about to get preachy in here, just to forewarn.) You know what I'm talking about: crocodile skin, snake skin, leather/suede, elephant skin (!) etc. While every other fashion trend on this list is banned from my wardrobe because I don't like the aesthetics of the item, this is the one item where (for the most part) I don't think it looks bad, I am solely opposed to it for humane reasons. The hardest one would have to be leather and suede, though, because if I'm being honest, I think leather looks really chic and cool. And it's really hard to buy boots or purses that aren't made (even partially) of suede or leather. But I'm going to take a stand here and say I won't wear leather or suede because I don't support killing animals for fashion. (I have a polyurethane jacket instead of a leather one.) The snake skin and the crocodile skin I'm not tempted by, they don't appeal to me as much, but I still don't agree with them (even though I am totally freaked out by both snakes and crocodiles) I don't think their skin should be used for boots, belts, etc. But the elephant skin!? I didn't even know that elephant skin boots even existed until earlier this week. You ready for my story? Okay.
Earlier this week, I helped a woman at my work who came in to return a pair of boots that she decided she didn't want. She didn't have a receipt for her item, but the original price ticket was still on there. Whenever this happens, I'm supposed to put the ticket numbers into a program that tells me what the product is (so I can make sure it is the correct product) being returned, ya dig? So anyway, that's beside the point. I noticed these boot were particularly expensive, $150.00 expensive. I thought it was odd that they were so much because I could tell right away that they weren't leather (which is obviously expensive) but I couldn't tell what they were made of; the texture felt and looked odd to me. So I put the ticket info in, and lo and behold, the computer told me I was holding elephant skin boots in my hands. I seriously felt like throwing them on the floor after I found out, I didn't even want to touch them after that.
But then I got to thinking, how could elephant skin trade even be legal? I know ivory is most definitely not legal trade, and1 elephants are ENDANGERED animals. Both the African and the Asian elephant are endangered. So I did a little research when I got home. Turns out that elephant skin trade is completely legal in the United States. I was/am so pissed about it. While I am sympathetic to bovine, I am so much more emotional about the idea of elephants being killed for fashion.


I'm sure there's more, but this post is getting pretty along. Maybe I will make a second edition. We'll see.

terms of endearment

During my orientation for my current job, my manager talked about how we shouldn't use terms of endearment towards the customers. No sweetie or sugar etc, because people can find it to be diminutive or condescending. It got me thinking about it, and you know what? It's never bothered me when someone calls me hon, and in a weird way, I kind of like it. Only from older women though, not men. (Except, I think some older men can call you hon without it being creepy.)

One lady at my work calls people all sorts of pet names. It cracks me up, because hers are pretty unconventional. She calls a lot of people "dear heart" and if she really likes you, she calls you her "sugar lump." I'm pumped on it. (That's probably because I'm a sugar lump and not a dear heart.)

But it got me thinking about whether or not I ever do that. I didn't think I called people by any pet names. (People I don't know, that is. I call my boyfriend babe, and every once in a while I'll call him a couple others, mostly as a joke e.g. "boyface" and if I feel like being really obnoxious: "peach pit.") But I decided I would make a conscious effort to notice whether or not I ever said any terms of endearment. Turns out, I do. Not to adults, but to kids. I hadn't even realized it. But I noticed that I almost always call little boys "buddy" when I'm talking to them, and little girls are either "honey" or "sweetie." I wonder how long I've been doing that.

But now the question is, are people getting offended if I call their kids that? Would you get offended if someone was calling your kid buddy or honey?

secrets, work shop, and missionaries

Do you know what's cool? Yesterday, I was in class, and we were discussing an exploratory essay we are soon going to be working on, and my teacher brought up six word memoirs (which I have read, and I think it's totally awesome) and a student asked my teacher if he had ever heard of Post Secret. Another girl in my class said, "Hey, that guy is on campus today." And I got super pumped and asked her what time he was going to be giving his presentation and she told me it was right after our class. So I ditched my fiction work shop class (Because how often am I going to be able to hear Frank Warren give a presentation? Never, that's how often.) and I went and watched his presentation. It was awesome.

He talked about how Post Secret got started, and what it was all about, and he shared post cards with us that hadn't been put on the website or in the book. (I have been following Post Secret pretty much since it started, five years ago.) The last portion of his presentation was an open mic to the audience to share their secrets. Seriously. I wasn't sure how personal people were going to get, but my goodness, did they get personal.

Some people kept it light (thank goodness, because there needed to be some relief) and one guy said he didn't like using urinals because he didn't want other guys looking at his junk. One girl said she still slept with her teddy bear. But some people shared some really personal secrets. One girl shared about her ex-boyfriend, who was a cop, who held a gun to her head and abused her. Several people talked about how they used to cut themselves. Then there was one girl that walked up to the mic holding a baby. She talked about how her little girl was turning two weeks old tomorrow, and every day she considered herself blessed because she loved her so much. Then she said she had an abortion when she was seventeen years old, and she can't help but but think every time she looks into her little girl's face what her other child would have been like, and she was filled with so much guilt and that she felt terrible and then she started crying. And then I started crying, not because I related to her story or anything, but it was such an emotional thing she was sharing with us and I felt as though I could literally feel her pain. (I consider myself an extremely empathetic person; I honestly believe that I can really feel other people's pain.)

It was really awesome and I'm so glad I got to go to it. He's traveling around the country doing presentations, so I would highly recommend going to one if it's in your area.

What else? Well, I had my short story work shopped in my fiction work shop class and I was absolutely terrified. But it went okay. I didn't get ripped apart, and most of the responses I got from my class mates were really nice. My harshest response was from a boy who said he felt like "I gave him a chunk of excellently cooked meat, but I didn't cut the fat off first." Hey, I can live with that. Now I have to work on my second short story, which is up for work shop at the end of October.


I had a Mormon missionary come up to my door today. The dogs were barking like crazy, and I went to the door to see what they were barking at and there was a person standing there and he scared me half to death and I actually jumped and shrieked. It was pretty embarrassing. He kept on saying he was sorry he scared me, but then he went into his whole spiel.

He asked if I went to church, and I said no. He asked if church had ever been a part of my life, and I told him yes, it had been. Then he went on to say that people may stray from church due to different things happening in their lives, but Jesus was the way. He asked if I had ever read the book of Mormon, and I told him I had.

I could tell he was a little surprised, and he asked me what my thoughts had been. I have to say, I think I was pretty polite. I told him I didn't agree with a lot of what Mormons believed in. He pressed further, and said, "You say that with a smile on your face. Why is that?" And I just told him that anything I had to say about it would probably offend him, and I didn't want to do that.

He then told me that there were a lot of misleading ideas about what Mormonism was, and gave me a a little pamphlet and said I could contact them if I was interested. I said thank you, and when I thought he was going to leave, he said, "Can I help you with anything?" I was confused about what he meant. Spiritually? Emotionally? What, exactly, was he going to help me with? Then he said, "Can I take out your trash or do some sort of chore for you that you need help with?" And I actually thought that was really sweet. I just told him that was very nice to offer, but I was okay.

Those Mormons. They sure try to butter you up, don't they?

Doggie Tales: Maggie

Full Name: Maggie Mae Harris

Breed: Yellow Labrador (but she was really white-colored)

Birth date: Maggie was born on January 24th of 1996 and she passed away on October 28th of 2009. She was 13 years old.

Likes: going anywhere with my dad, her soccer ball, her red rubber toy, swimming, fetching, pretty much playing with anyone, anywhere, anytime.

Dislikes: beans, music boxes, raccoons...and there isn't anything else. She was a really easy-going and happy dog.

All about Maggie: We got Maggie when I was nine years old. She was the cutest puppy you ever did see. Really, she was. Look. She was the runt of the litter and she was so small that the tiny purple collar we had bought for her was too big and my dad had to take out his knife and make a new hole in order for it to fit.

Me and my brother with little baby Maggie.

In truth, we came up with the name Maggie from the movie The River Wild. The yellow Labrador in that movie was named Maggie and we thought that dog was badass so we named our Maggie, Maggie. Then we decided her middle name (because in my family, our dogs are family members so they get full names) should be Mae, like The Beatles' song "Maggie Mae."

Maggie when she was still a young doggie.

Maggie didn't bark for a long time. We weren't even sure if she could bark until one day, probably 3 months after we got her, we brought out a soccer ball to play with and Maggie barked at it. She loved playing soccer. She would bite and chew the ball and run around after it, and if you kicked it and it got past her, she would go crazy and bark at it. She learned how to pass the ball to us by hitting it with her nose, so when we would tell her to pass it, she would.

Maggie seriously loved sitting in her chair.

Maggie was really smart. She is the smartest dog I ever had. I had read in an article that you could measure your dog's intelligence by doing this test: you show your dog a treat, you have them watch you put it under a rag or piece of cloth, and then you let them go after it. Depending on how your dog gets the treat shows you how intelligent they are. If they use their paw to move the rag off of the treat, they're really smart. If they try to use their nose to get the rag off the treat, they're average, and if they try to get the treat by picking the treat up with their mouth while the rag is still over it...they're not so smart. I immediately wanted to test Maggie. Right away, she used her paw to move the piece of cloth and she got the treat. So she was super smart, at least, according to that test she was.

Here she is, in her chair again, only older.

But she did other smart stuff, too. One time I was wearing a hat, and she had never seen me in a hat before, so she wanted to see what was on my head. She kept jumping on me to try to get it, until I scolded her and told her not to jump anymore. This was when she grabbed a hold of my sock with her teeth and began yanking on it. I leaned down to swat her away, and when I leaned over, she grabbed the hat right off my head. Clever little dog, huh?

Me and Maggie when I was about 12 or 13.

Maggie also ate everything. I mean everything. We had a really big strawberry patch and we would sometimes find her in the patch eating the strawberries right off the vine. The only food she would not eat was beans. When we tried putting it with her dog food, she would eat all the food around it and leave the beans alone.

She went really white when she got older.

For some inexplicable reason, the only thing that Maggie was scared of was music boxes. Isn't that strange? I remember one time when she was allowed in the house (because she was mostly an outdoor dog) I had wound up and opened one of my music boxes and Maggie completely freaked out and ran away from it and would refuse to come near me until the music stopped. And the only thing that would make her mad (because dogs can get mad) were the raccoons that would come at night and eat her dog food and wash their hands in her water bowl. She would be inside at night during the winter, but when she heard them out on the porch, she would go berserk. One time, she got into a fight with one and the raccoon split her nose wide open. Poor, Maggie. But ooh, she hated those raccoons.

And her black nose turned pink.

The two main things about Maggie's personality are: 1. she was the sweetest dog who didn't have a single violent bone in her body. One time a dog down the street tried to attack her while we were all on a walk, and instead of trying to fight back, Maggie just shied away and moved behind my dad. My dad had to fight the dog off to protect Maggie because she would have just let it bite her. She loved EVERYONE. She was a really friendly dog.

This is a picture of Penny, our other dog who was one of Maggie's puppies, and Maggie.

The second thing was: all she wanted to do all the time was play. She wasn't too big into pets. If you tried to pet her, she would just shove her toy at you, instead. An hour after she had given birth to six puppies, she picked her favorite red toy up and tried to get us to play with her. (That favorite red toy, by the way, was probably the hardest dog toy to find in the world! It got lost one time so we seriously spent months trying to find a replacement toy. When we did finally find one she was so stoked! I couldn't even find a picture of it on the internet to put up here.) Maggie always wanted to play fetch or tug-of-war...she stayed a puppy in her heart, even when she was getting older.

Wasn't she cute?

As she became an old dog, Maggie had trouble walking because of her arthritis, and my parents told me she hardly got off her bed anymore except to do the basics. Whenever I would go visit my parent's house, I would go outside to visit Maggie in the yard, and she would come out and do her best to play with me. My mom and dad would come out and marvel that she was actually out and trying to play. Even though it hurt her poor old bones to do so, she would come out to try to play with me because Maggie loved me. It makes me tear up just thinking about it. The day we put Maggie to sleep was one of the saddest in my life, and thinking about her still makes me cry. The whole family misses her very much. I love you, Maggie Mae.

My very last picture of Maggie Mae.

dictionary.com

I spend an unusual amount of time using dictionary.com. I use it for scholarly purposes: I look up the meanings of words, and I use the thesaurus section every single time I'm writing a paper. I use it to make sure I'm spelling words correctly, and I also use it to help figure out how to pronounce certain words. (I have often pondered why some words are pronounced by a woman, and others a man. Why don't they just use the same person for all of them? Maybe they didn't want to have a gender bias.)

But I also use it for entertainment purposes. I like to check out the Word of the Day (today's was "burlesque" but I already knew that one so I was kind of disappointed) and the Question of the Day. I also like checking out the "The Hot Word" blog. As you can see, I use it a lot. I'm a giant word dork. But I think it's kind of an interesting website in general.

There's little "Did you know:" factoids at the top of the pages, and I found one that said: Did you know that pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis is the longest word we have? I'm still unsure if that means it is the longest word on dictionary.com, or if it is the longest word ever. Either way, that is one crazy long word, right? (You should go check it out just so you can click on the little microphone thing to hear the guy say it aloud. It sounds funny.) I had to click on it and find out what it meant. It is the term used for people who have lung damage that involves inhaling volcanic ash.

So check out http://www.dictionary.com/. It makes me feel smarter.

Customer Service

I have spent about seven (Seven? My goodness. How did that happen?) years working customer service, and until recently, my experience in customer service was only in banking. Now I work in retail. I have come to realize that customer service is very different in these two institutions. The way customers treat me is very different, too.

At the bank, for the most part, customers were civil and polite. But when they lost it, they really lost it. I mean....explode status. They'd scream and yell and get in your face and tell you they were going to get you fired or call the police on you (seriously) and cause a giant scene. And you were expected to remain calm. And I learned how to do that. Because hey, I could kind of understand why people got upset sometimes. Money can be an emotional thing.

In my short experience in retail, it seems to me that customers are a lot different. In general, they are not as civil and polite. I haven't had anyone scream or explode on me in retail, but I have just plain rude customers all the time. For no other reason than they want to be, I guess.

This is the theory that I have come up with: I think bank tellers kind of hold this position of power, and so people feel like they should be nicer to them because they "control" their money. The person at the register at the department store does not hold any such power, therefore, you don't need to be as nice to him or her. What do you think? Valid?

Here are some of the people I have come across in retail lately that are just inexplicably rude:

• I had a girl interrupt me while I was in the middle of ringing up another customer, and ask me for a job application. I told her I would get her one as soon as I was done helping my customer. She sighed, and made a big show of having to wait. I was the only checker, and had a line of other customers waiting. I quickly grabbed a job application off the stack and handed it to her. She didn't say a word and left the store. Not even two minutes later, the phone rang, and I could tell right away that it was the same girl on the phone. She asked to speak to the manager. I transferred the call. My manager came up to me later to tell me about it. The girl told him that I had given her an application that was in Spanish, and she was offended that I had automatically assumed that she couldn't read or write English. Seriously? I just don't understand who would even get pissed about that. I think any normal person would just say, "Oh, excuse me? Do you have one in English? This one's in Spanish." It was obvious I hadn't looked at the stack and made a conscious choice that she should receive a Spanish application.

• For some reason, the counter surface at my work is the worst surface in the world to write on. No exaggerating. No one can ever sign their receipts because of that damn surface. I put out a clipboard for customers to use, because that works better to write on. I also have three or four pens in a cup that a customer can choose from. I had a lady who kept on trying to sign her receipt (unsuccessfully), but wouldn't use the clipboard. She kept on asking me to give her different pens, looking for a "better" one. With every new pen, I suggested that she use the clipboard, but she kept arguing with me that it was the pens that weren't working. After the fourth and final pen, she literally (and I'm not taking any liberties here, she really did this) threw the pen across the counter at me and said, "I don't have time for this! Just get me a pen that works." I must admit, I did not respond as gracefully as I should have. I said, with a definite edge in my voice, "I did give you a pen that worked. I gave you four pens that worked." (I test every single pen when I first come in the morning. I know my shit.) I took one of the pens and scribbled on a piece of paper using the clipboard where it worked perfectly. "See? It works. That is why I told you to use the clipboard." But why did she have to get so rude about it?

• Okay, this next one wasn't actually a rude customer towards me, but I saw someone be INCREDIBLY rude to one of my co-workers. It was actually just this morning. This lady came up to my counter with baby clothes and she asked me whether or not I thought a particular outfit was unisex, because it was a gift and they didn't yet know if it was a boy or a girl. I said, yes the colors were unisex, but based on the ruffle in the front, it was more for a girl. The lady seemed unsatisfied with my answer, and looked at my co-worker and said, "How about you? You would probably know. You're pregnant, right?" My co-worker slowly turned and her and I made eye contact and it was as if time had slowed down to a painful speed as I waited to see how my non-pregnant co-worker was going to react. "No. I'm not pregnant." she said. Okay, these things happen. And they're awkward and embarrassing for everyone involved. But this next part is the worst part. Instead of the lady apologizing or changing the subject or doing anything remotely near the realm of good manners, she said, "Oh, you're not? I guess you just have a big belly on you." Then she turned and winked at me as if it were a joke. I was horrified. I don't think I hid it very well, either, because she then softly mumbled "Sorry." But who does that? Honestly?

the itty bitty tittie committee

Breast implants have been on my mind a lot lately, since I know someone close to me who recently got a boob job. I, myself, have very tiny boobs. We're talking pretty small. But I would never get a boob job.

This is a shout out to all the celebrity women out there who obviously have enough money to get a boob job, but choose to stay 100% natural.

Ali Larter (for Hollywood...they're tiny)

Charlize Theron (in my opinion, I think she may be the most beautiful woman on this planet...and her boobies are on the smaller side)

Evan Rachel Wood (I think she's gorgeous.)

Freida Pinto (the actress from Slumdog Millionaire)

Thandie Newton (I've always thought she was pretty.)

Gwyneth Paltrow (she even showed them off in Shakespeare in Love)

Natalie Portman (I absolutely adore her. When I was trying to find a photo of her where you could see she was on the smaller side, I had a hard time finding one where you would notice it. A lot of her fashion choices help hide the fact that she's small chested. I am definitely going to emulate.)

Kate Hudson (I love the fact that she has such small boobs and she doesn't even seem to care.)

Keri Russell (Not much up top, but she's still beautiful.)
Portia de Rossi (She is one of the first celebrities I remember noticing had tiny boobs because I watched Ally McBeal when I was a kid. And I thought she was one of the most gorgeous women ever.)

Rose Byrne (She is also really flat chested but she's stunning.)

Mena Suvari (While I fluctuate between whether or not I think she's attractive, one things for sure: I give her kudos for being brave enough to show her tiny tatas in American Beauty.)

Debra Messing (I love how there's an episode revolved around how small her boobs are on "Will & Grace")

Gwen Stefani (she had really tiny boobs...now they're quite a bit bigger since she had her kids.)

Keira Knightley (Another person who has no boobs who I think is so pretty.)

A Jack Attack Review: Inception

I watched Inception on Saturday, but I felt like I needed to give myself a few days to fully digest it and mull it over before I wrote anything about it. Really, with any movie, I like to wait a couple of days before I give an "official" opinion about it. This is because I like to give my brain the ability to reflect on it if needed...and if I find myself not thinking about the movie a couple days after I have seen it, then that tells me something. It means it's either boring, fluff, stupid, or just a plain time-waster. Inception is none of those things. I could give you a ton of superlatives to describe it, but that still wouldn't even touch the surface of how awesome this film is. I can't stop thinking about this movie. I've become kind of obsessed with it.

BUT, let me just say, that I can understand why someone might not like this movie. It is easily one of the strangest movies I have ever seen...and that's saying a lot. (I have seen A LOT of movies.) But the strangeness is part of what attracts me. There's nothing else like it. It's original. How often does that happen in Hollywood now adays?

Also, I could see some people not caring for it because it is complicated. It is a very intricate and elaborate film, and I can see how people can become lost within it. I'll admit, there are parts I'm not sure I fully understand. It's definitely not a movie you can go to and just sit back and watch. You need to have your brain turned on, you need to be actively thinking and absorbing everything that's going on to help you understand what's happening. But, again, this is just another reason why I liked it.

I mean, in its most basic form, Inception is a heist movie. Leonardo DiCaprio's character and his team break into people's minds through their dreams and steal ideas and information. But they take on a job that is just the opposite: planting an idea in someone's mind while in a dream. But it is much more than a heist movie.

The acting (especially by Leonardo DiCaprio...why doesn't he get more credit?) is AMAZING, the visual effects are stunning (there is a fight scene that is unbelievably badass), the content is absolutely mind-bending...it was just...crazy. I'm seriously considering seeing it a second time.

I'm not going to spend any time explaining the plot, because it's too complex, and I think the viewer needs to find out for themselves. There is a ton of stuff I could say about this film, but I will hold off so you can make up your own mind. I will say that my brother and I have had crazy conversations about what we think this film means and what we think is really happening within the film.

The thing I loved most about this movie is that it made me think. The main idea/question the film leaves you with is: What is reality?

It is not a simple answer.

Jack Attack is Lovin':

If you haven't noticed, I kind of like to make lists. It's a weird thing I do. I was trying to think of a new list I could come up with, and I decided I was going to make a list of things that I've been obsessed with lately. So...this is what the Jack Attack has been loving lately:

Coldplay. I have been listening to Coldplay A LOT the past month. I have quite a few of their albums: Parachutes, A Rush of Blood to the Head, and Viva la Vida. But I've been stuck on Viva la Vida most recently. I really like the song "Strawberry Swing." Check out the music video, it's a trip.

Potstickers. I have been on a real potstickers kick. It's all I want to eat all the time. So, I've been making and consuming a lot of potstickers lately.
Documentaries. I have been watching soooo many documentaries this past month. Here are the ones I enjoyed the most: The September Issue which follows the editor of Vogue (Anna Wintour, who inspired Meryl Streep's character in The Devil Wears Prada) as they plan their September layout, No Impact Man which follows a man and his family as they decide to live a year of their life completely green e.g. no motorized transportation, generating no trash, and not using toilet paper, and I also liked Waiting for Armageddon which is about a bunch of Evangelical Christians who believe the world is soon coming to an end. One documentary has been on my Netflix queue for months, but there's such a long wait list I haven't gotten it yet! It's entitled The Cove, and it won Best Documentary at the last Academy Awards. It investigates the fishing industry in Japan and how they are slaughtering dolphins. I really want to watch it, but I guess I just have to wait for that one.


"Big Love." I just started watching this television series, but I'm already kind of obsessed with it. I can't wait until I get more discs in the mail from Netflix.

Celebrities Back When & Now That

Mickey Rourke back when he was sexy:

Mickey Rouke now that it looks like you could smell him from 10 feet away:
Kathleen Turner back when she was a smoldering seductress:

Kathleen Turner now that she has turned into a man:
Val Kilmer back when he was hot enough to be the Ice Man:

Val Kilmer now that he has become 8 months pregnant:
Janice Dickinson back when she was a beautiful model:
Janice Dickinson now that she had a plastic surgeon make her look like a freak:

Church Giggles

Want to hear one of my favorite memories from church? (When I went to church, that is.) Here we go:

My mom is a religious woman. As a result, my brother and I went to church every Sunday for 18 years. One summer, our church was getting new wood floors installed, so we held our Sunday services in the basement. The basement door was wide open for anyone to come in, because the church we attended wanted anyone and everyone to stop in.

One Sunday, a homeless man shuffled into the basement and settled himself in the pew behind my mother, my brother, and me. (Just an aside, my brother and I were about 16 and 17 at this point.) We always sat near the back, so there wasn't anyone else around us. The man kept falling asleep during the service, and we could hear him snoring behind us. This didn't really bother us, though. In fact, we felt pretty bad for him.

This particular Sunday happened to be communion. Perhaps you are not familiar with communion, so let me explain it to you. At least, let me explain how my church practiced communion. (Because it varies from church to church.) Our preacher would hold the loaf of bread, and one of the older church members would hold the cup of juice (we used grape juice instead of wine) and the congregation would form a line in front of them. We would go up one by one as the preacher would tear us off a piece of bread, tell us, "This is the body of Christ given to you. Eat this in remembrance of him," and we'd bow our head and move over to the cup where the member would say, "This is the blood of Christ shed for you. Drink this in remembrance of him," and then we would dip our piece of bread in the juice, and then walk over to the prayer benches. There, you would pray and ask for forgiveness for the sins you had committed since last communion and you would promise God that you would do your best to not sin anymore.

So, anway, this whole process would be a little cramped in the basement, so instead of the prayer benches, we would go back to our pew to pray. We had a different preacher that Sunday because our regular preacher had business elsewhere. This substitute preacher did not tear off a piece of bread for us, but instead held out the loaf to us so we would tear off our own piece of bread. (Unsanitary, I know.) My brother was in front of me in line, and I saw him try to tear off a piece of bread, and he ended up breaking off the tiniest little crumb. I could tell just by looking at him that he wasn't sure what to do. He hesitated there for a moment, not sure if he should break off a bigger piece or just continue on his way to the cup. It was like I could see the thoughts in his brain. He decided to move onto the cup, and when I saw him try to dip that tiny little crumb into the cup, I almost lost it.

Church giggles are really hard to suppress. Harder than any other giggle. And I was trying really hard not to laugh out loud. And when we walked back to our pew together, we both could not stop giggling about it. We were both sitting there with our shoulders shaking, trying really hard not to laugh out loud. My mom slid into the pew and ask-whispered why we were laughing. We managed to tell her in between fits what had happened. She shook her head and started to giggle, too.

But this was when the homeless man behind us woke up and heard/saw us laughing. He leaned over to us and said, "Stop laughing at me." Teddy and I both looked at each other with the most bewildered looks on our faces, and then turned around in the pew to look at him. The homeless man got even more upset. He got louder, "Don't look at me! Turn around!" My mom said hurriedly, "Don't look at him! Don't look at him, kids. Turn around!" Teddy and I both turned around, but Teddy and I could not control ourselves. We started laughing even harder. The homeless man kept on telling us to stop laughing. My mom got really worried, and she told him, "Oh, no. They're not laughing at you. You see, my son got a really tiny piece of bread at communion and he had trouble dipping it into the cup and they're laughing about that." And hearing my mom trying to explain the situation to him only made us laugh more. This was when he started pounding his fist and saying, "I don't like people laughing at me!" and he was eyeing my brother as if he were going to fight him.

Luckily, church ended within the next minute or so, and my mom told us we needed to go home, because we still could not contain ourselves. To this day, every once in a while, one of us will point at the other and say, "Don't look at me! Turn around! I don't like people laughing at me!" and we will all start busting up. Ahhhh...church giggles.

A Look Through Media at Women in the Middle East

I watched a really intense movie last night. It was called The Stoning of Soraya M. and it was extremely powerful. I've always kind of had an interest in regards to women in the Middle East. Back in my freshman year of high school, I read a biography entitled Princess: A True Story of Life Behind the Veil in Saudi Arabia which was written by American-born Jean Sasson who related the story of a woman she met while in Saudi Arabia. I hadn't known much about women's rights in the Middle East before then, and that book really opened my eyes. Since then, I've had a desire to learn more. I read Reading Lolita in Tehran a few years ago, which is amazing, by the way. Once I'm finished reading my current book (The Collected Stories of F. Scott Fitzgerald...I find everything he writes absolutely delicious) I'm planning on reading a book my mom just sent me in the mail entitled Unveiling Islam, which is more of a look inside Muslim life and beliefs than a focus on women's rights, but I'm interested in learning more about that, as well.

Have you ever seen the movie Not Without My Daughter? It will totally freak you out. It's based on a true story of an American woman (played by the amazing Sally Field) who was married to a Middle Eastern man who had immigrated to the United States. She and her husband and daughter go to the Middle East to visit her husband's relatives, and her husband decides they are going to stay there... permanently. This woman can't bring her daughter back to the United States with her, because Islamic law states that her husband has full custody and he gets to keep her. She loses all of her rights in that foreign land. It's frightening, and you should watch it.

The movie I watched last night was based on a true story concerning a woman named Soraya, who lived in Iran and had a husband who wanted to divorce her so he could marry a fourteen year old girl. She refused to get a divorce because she knew there was no way she would be able to support her family without his financial help (because he wouldn't pay her anything once they were divorced). Her husband rallies other men in the village to figure out what they can do to convince Soraya to divorce him. They offer her a job cleaning a man's house...that way she can earn her own money and eventually divorce him when she has made enough to live on her own.

So, Soraya works for this man, knowing this is the only way out of her abusive marriage (her husband regularly beats her) while still being able to take care of her children. Well, her husband says that the wait is too long for her to save enough money, and he wants to get rid of her. He asks his friend to help convince the people in the town that his wife is having an affair with the man whose house she is cleaning. A woman cheating on her husband is considered a serious offense, and is punishable by death under Islamic law.

Soraya's husband convinces his friends to say that they saw his wife with this other man, and he even goes to the man and threatens to kill him and put his son (who is mentally challenged) in an institution if he doesn't tell everyone that he had an affair with his wife. The man is frightened, so he tells everyone they had an affair, even though it is nowhere close to the truth. The men in the town have a trial, declaring Soraya guilty of adultery, and have decreed she must die.

As you can guess by the title of the film, she is stoned to death. I knew people were stoned to death in the Middle East, but I always just pictured it as the person running around and people throwing rocks at them. This is not the case. They buried her waist deep into the ground, and tied her arms behind her back, leaving her completely helpless.

Like I said, I knew from the beginning of the film what was coming, but when the scene came where they showed her being stoned to death, I lost my shit. I started bawling. (And I am not a crier.) At first, they take turns throwing rocks at her, beginning with her own father. After that, her husband throws a rock that hits her right in the head, sending blood down her entire face. Then, her two sons both take rocks and hit her with them. Then, all the men in the village begin throwing stones at her. It was so brutal. To think that something like that happened . . . is still happening . . . makes me feel sick. To think that we, as human beings, can inflict that kind of pain on another person, and get enjoyment out of watching them suffer, is sickening.

The husband never even ended up marrying the fourteen year old girl, and the town soon found out that the alleged affair had been a lie. But no one seems to be too upset about it except Soraya's aunt. The day after the stoning, a French journalist was passing through the village, and Soraya's aunt tells him the entire story, because she wants the world to know what happened. The journalist tapes her recounting of the entire event, but when the men of the village find out, they try to steal it from him. He eventually gets away with tape intact and that is how Soraya's story is known.

Is that not the most awful thing you've ever heard? When I hear about these horrible events, it makes me want to do something, but what, I don't know. What can I do? The change has to come from within that society, and I don't see that happening. One thing is for sure, it makes me grateful that I was born in the US of A, baby. Sure, we have our problems, but we have a lot to be thankful for.