'Don't Care How, I Want it Now'

I got into the office at ten Saturday morning and for a full on hour I read Zach Braff's blog. So I thought I would share some of his sweetness and humour that made me laugh out loud. This was my favourite post.

I woke up today with one of those headaches where it's hard to see. I did manage to open one eye, however, to peek at the time to see that it was 9:30. I lay there for a minute contemplating rolling over once again and returning to the wonderful dream I was having when my brain suddenly kicked the door in on the Dolly Parton song streaming through my head to remind me that I had a library book due in half an hour. I jumped out of bed, threw on some clothes, made myself a sandwich, got my bike out, waited outside the bathroom while the person in there finished showering so that I could brush my teeth, hopped on my bike and sped off to grab the book off of my desk. At the stroke of ten I ran into the library, slammed the book down, patted it twice, smiled sweetly at the security guard and returned out of breath to my office.

In other news, I saw Charlie and The Chocolate Factory Saturday night with Mark. I can't say that I enjoyed it more then the first one, but I did enjoy it. I really don't want to go comparing it to the original though. This was a new adaptation of the book, which shockingly I've never read, not the movie. I thought the kids in this one were great. Mike Teavee was perfect and for some reason I just really liked his dad as well. I thought Noah Taylor, who played Charlie's dad, was fantastic. I just looked him up on imdb and it seems he played Hitler in Max. If you've never seen that film I highly suggest it, not because it is particularly outstanding but I just found it really interesting. Ok, back to the movie. Visually I thought it was amazing, I've always been a very visual person (duh, I study Art History) and therefore I just really appreciate the effort that goes into cinematography, I especially enjoyed the saturation of colours for Augustus Gloop and the evaporation of colour for the Bucket house. The oompaloompas were decidedly less scary in this one though I feel as if Burton was striving to make them creepier by emphasising their deviousness. The only thing I could have done without was the songs. They ruined the flow. I think over all the film felt a bit disjointed but I still recommend it. Freddy Highmore is a great little actor and Johnny Depp's Wonka is spooky and hilarious. For my money you can't really beat Gene Wilder, but his Wonka was different. He was a haunted, lonely adult who at the end suddenly warms and becomes this possible father figure. The Charlie in this film doesn't need a father figure however, he has one, so Burton reverses the roles which was interesting. Kind of like Edward Scissor hands now that I think about it. Burton even makes a reference to that film in the beginning when Wonka turns to the crowd suddenly with an extra large pair of shears in his hand. I think I was the only one in the theatre to laugh out loud at the part, which come to think of it, happens quite often to me...

And for those of you paying attention. I didn't make my July 31st dissertation deadline. I decided I rather do a good job on this then a piss poor one.

Where it All Went Wrong

It's freezing in St. Andrews and there are two red sail boats bobbing out in the water outside my office window. I wonder if they could possibly be colder than myself, sitting in this drafty old building alone searching through old books on Italian art. I feel my slightly self-perpetuated funk slowly drifting away, erm by the way. So not to worry my friends, I'll be back to my chipper self soon enough.

So as promised here are the messy, drunken photos from Tuesday night (or Friday night as Jamie kept insisting to me)



It started off innocently enough, with Steve picking me up at my house to meet the Melville crew for drinks at the Jigger.



With the drunken arrival of Jamie however, one pint soon turned to three...



Which turned into five at the Cellar where we met Crawford and Javier.



Do you remember that Saturday Night Live sketch with Mike Myers and Nicole Kidman where they play 6 year olds tied to a playground jungle gym? Mike Myers says to Nicole, 'You're the Devil.' I've had that line running through my head for a week and it just about sums up how I felt about Jamie that night.



Yeah, I don't know. Jamie giving Crawford a piggy back ride down the Lade Braes. Tell me again why I hang out with so many boys?



By Thursday I was much recovered from Tuesday night's reverie and decided to spend a relaxing day at home reading my new copy of Harry Potter. I get to the bottom of page 192 and look to page 193, as you do, but much to my chagrin, it wasn't there. That evening I went to exchange it and wouldn't you know? They were out of stock. I was able to procure a copy by Friday though and finished reading it yesterday. I really don't find the need to extrapolate once more on here about my love for Harry Potter but I will just say this, it was good. It was snuggling in front of a fire on a cold Winter's eve, running through freshly mowed grass on a warm day, catching a smile from a cute stranger good. Good.

And I thought I would take a moment to make a shout out to blogger, whom I heart so dearly for making this site free and completely usable for a dunce like me. If I could afford it I would totally buy this shirt and wear it with pride.

Forwards From Papa

Do you know how many hits I get from people searching for Munchichis? Too many.

The past few days...yeah I don't know. I'm in a funk. So I'm posting this because it's funny and true and reminds me of a story my grandfather used to tell me where the mom would dole out all the food to her family leaving herself with none and her family upon seeing this would insist on giving part of their portion to her and in the end she would always get more. That's because women are smarter. See how that works?

11 PEOPLE ON A ROPE
Eleven people were hanging on a rope under a helicopter, ten men and one woman. The rope was not strong enough to carry them all, so they decided that one had to leave, because otherwise they were all going to fall. They weren't able to name that person, until the woman gave a very touching speech. She said that she would voluntarily let go of the rope, because, as a woman, she was used to giving up everything for her husband and kids, or for men in general, and was used to always making sacrifices with little in return. As soon as she finished her speech, all the men started clapping their hands.......

Anyway, I should have some rather messy photos from this week up one of these days.

What's Up With That?

Anyone remember Jiffy Pop? Man that was good stuff. (That's not as random as you think I was sitting here thinking that it would be nice to have some popcorn when Crawfy and I finally sit down to watch the Evil Dead trilogy but we don't have a microwave then I began to wonder if they still make Jiffy Pop cause, man that was good stuff and would really come in handy)




I haven't been doing much the past few days besides sun-bathing, walking on the beach oh and trying to finish my dissertation. So here for your viewing pleasure are a random sampling of pictures. The above is the view up Butts Wynd towards St. Salvator's. I just really thought the clouds were pretty.



Crawford at a bbq that one of his office mates threw in the garden of the Medieval History department.



Me not watching golf and laying in the grass in the garden of my department editing my paper.



Succumbing to the Open only to capture pictures for you, my fans.



View from the West Sands at all the tv cameras.


So many people in town. It's kinda fun but at the same time I couldn't ride my bike to work today because of all the people and cars.



How close I was.



How close I wish I was. I heart 12x zoom. I felt like such a punter lurking around the edge of the course trying to catch a glimpse, soon after this is when I turned right back around and escaped to the chilly darkness of my empty department.

No You Can't Go Back to Constantinople

Watching the aftermath of the terror attacks in London on television a few days ago I couldn't help but cry. It brought back so many memories of 9/11 which took so long to get over and thinking about it I don't know if I ever really did. I might sound mad but seeing the Queen on TV visiting the victims somehow really comforted me. Maybe it was her pristine lavender dress and that perfect white hair or simply those immaculate white gloves but I think more than anything else it was just a comfort to see this lovely, kind looking granny walking through the hospitals knowing that she is the Queen and in effect, like all our granny. God that does sound mad.
Update: I had to post this link from Deb about the outrageous things Fox news commentators had to say after the attacks in London. I can't even begin to understand how people watch that ridiculous channel.

In other news, the G8 Summit has ended and aid has been doubled to Africa to 50 billion. Though all demands of the Make Poverty History campaign certainly have not been met, at least a big step was made that will hopefully mean that, according to Bob Geldof, 10 million lives will be saved. That is if the aid is used in the proper fashion. Remember the campaign not only wanted more aid, but better aid. It is just sad how the only thing that could be promised from this summit was more money but no change of policy.

For the past few days St. Andrews has been utterly amazing. It is warm and sunny and beautiful. And on most summer days in St. Andrews the sound of bagpipes drift through the air. Slowly the town is beginning to fill up with tourists for the Open. Come this weekend the place will be a madhouse. In fact many of the uni buildings are closing Thursday, including mine. Apparently I'll still be able to get in with my key though I might have to hop the wall into the ground to do it.

Oh and I nearly forgot! I think I am going to Istanbul in September. Anyone want to join or have a couch I could crash on for a week?

Edinburgh 50,000: The Final Push

FYI: Posted a sort of review of the final Live 8 concert over on The Music Slut today so check it out.

Also, on the back of my jumping for joy that the Olympics are coming to London, disaster strikes my favourite city. I think my mom summed it up best today when she said "What is wrong with these people?"

MAKE POVERTY HISTORY

'Sometimes it falls upon a generation to be great. You can be that generation' -Nelson Mandela



Saturday was the MAKE POVERTY HISTORY rally in Edinburgh.



The rally started at 11am in the Meadows. The masses of people all walking together toward it was amazing.

G8 countries are 13% of the world's population but cause 50% of the world's greenhouse emmissions.

People streaming into the Meadows.

Crawford buying his anti-capitalism t-shirt.

Pete Postlethwaite talking to the thousands of people gathering in the Meadows.

Sara and Javier listening to some of the speakers.

I think what moved me most about today was not only the masses of people who gathered in Edinburgh despite there being no concert there but the differences in the people who came. So many older people you wouldn't believe it. Church groups and families with children playing, teenagers head to toe in white and hippes banging drums all coming together with such politeness, happiness and purpose.

'Take back the government from the corporate agenda' - Ken Wiwa







Javier dancing to the sounds of Salsa Celtica. A Celtic band that infuses latin music. I thought they were great.

My gang on the lawn.

Javier, sporting his new anti-capitalism t-shirt, Crawford and Jamie listening to the vintage sounds of Texas.



Eddie Izzard hosted the event for a bit and stayed on to throughout the day to help make announcements.



Me, Jamie, Joe, Javier, Sara and Crawford in the Meadows.

Gael García Bernal giving a speech, speaking partly in Spanish.

Around 1 we decided to go and queue for the march around the city. We waited for an hour to have the chance. It was well worth it.

One of my favourite posters of the day. Can we really call it democracy when 8 men in a room decide the fate of the world? They do not speak for me.

Jamie getting hit with a Peace flag.

Javier and I still waiting, but happy about it.

Free Trade is Not Fair Trade.

‘History will judge our leaders by the decisions they make in the coming weeks,’ said Nelson Mandela.

On the move. We head out from the Meadows toward the Royal Mile.

A child in Africa dies every 3 seconds. That is more then a cool advert with your favourite celebrities, that is truth and I refuse to believe that something cannot be done.

Remember Ken Saro-Wiwa.

Today Crawford and I wore our Zapata t-shirts "It is better to die on your feet then live on your knees."

The view down to Prince's street past the National Gallery. This march shut down an entire city with double the amount of people in London. It's hard to believe that it wasn't broadcast, I think it would have been so powerful for the concert people to see.









Edinburgh Castle white banded.





The sound of silence as we pause for a minute in our march for the 30,000 children in Africa who lost their lives today.



Back at the Meadows and about to say goodbye to Jamie who was headed home.



Crawford and his fellow Environmental Accounting friend, Shawna.

After the march around the city we went back to the meadows, met up with some of Crawford's friends and ended up taking part in a world record breaking ceildh dance, Eights and Reels, or G8s and Reels. So. Much. Fun. And such a great way to end an amazing event.



I seem to only ever go to one pub with Crawford when I am in Edinburgh, the Blind Poet. We headed here after leaving the Meadows for a couple of pints.



After which we headed to Shawna's place for some food and to watch the end of the Live8 London concert.





Sunday was the G8 Alternatives Summit that Crawford bought us tickets for. I thought it was a really productive way to end the weekend, by actually sitting and listening to intellectuals talk about the issues and what could be done. The highlight of the day was hearing George Monbiot speak and the crowd giving him a standing ovation.

Throwing in the Towel

St. Andrews Castle, My Old Friend

I was determined to do work today even though I stayed up into the wee hours of the morning partying it up for Crawford's birthday. As I was about to fall back asleep at my desk Shahrina comes in to my office with a scheme to get my free into the castle with her Scotland pass. And who am I to pass up free?



The fog had just rolled in lending a spooktacular atmosphere to the castle.



Only Shahrina would pose all cute in front of a dungeon.



'What's up?'



Spooktacular.





This picture is too sappy even for me.







Somehow Shahrina convinced me to go back into the mine. Something about being scared to go by herself.



Is all I have to say.



This time around I made it down the ladder into the main part of the mine. Let me tell you, that shit is scary. We booked it out of there immediately.











My pal, St. Andrew, getting shoved off the Cathedral during the Reformation. I can't get enough of it. Instilling the statue with panic is sheer comic genius.

After the castle, and my successful deflection of Shahrina's begging to go up St. Rule's with her, I went back to the office for an unsuccessful afternoon of reading. I have to figure out someway that I don't have to write this dissertation.