Monday, September 26

the complete idiot's guide to understanding ethics

You scored as Hedonism. Your life is guided by the principles of Hedonism: You believe that pleasure is a great, or the greatest, good; and you try to enjoy life's pleasures as much as you can.

'Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die!'

More info at Arocoun's Wikipedia User Page...





Strong Egoism




Justice (Fairness)








Divine Command


What philosophy do you follow? (v1.03)
created with

This quiz made a very vague distinction between Hedonism and Utilitarianism. Not that I'm an expert, but from what I've been studying in the past few months, I think my Hedonism and Utilitarianism results should've been the other way around. If Anthony reads this, I'm sure he'll be delighted to see that the links go to

Lately I've been in a mood... I feel like I don't hate academics as much. I might even start reading extra philosophy and info about Roman religion. Which reminds me...

Today I had a discussion with gram about removing "under god" from the Pledge of Allegiance. She was saying that "even the Muslims believe in a god. We're not just going to remove it for the atheists." Slyly, I pointed out that atheists might not be the only people who have a problem with it. What about people of any religion who truly believe that church and state must be separated? What about the polytheists? Skirting the pagan issue, I used Hindus as an example, albeit one I poorly illustrated by mentioning, "Ganesha and, uh, all of those." Gram said that I don't believe in that anyways, all those little sprites wandering around, and I said that maybe I do. At this, Jeff said something uncharacteristically unintelligble about "no such thing... idols."

Mind you, I'm not one of those militant "we must see no vestige of your religion in a public place" folks. Separation of church and state is important to me, but at the same time I don't get angry at President Bush mentioning god in his speeches. Like President Bush I do not, but I'm not going to get angry at him for having beliefs and expressing them. It's the political/ religious agendas that are no good. To me, being vague and half-assed for the sake of popularity really isn't preferrable.

Sunday, September 25

the plot in the pumpkin patch

A college junior comes home for the weekend to find that the older brother she always loved hanging out with finally got his first "real job" and is now a yuppie. What will happen when their loving but oblivious mother sends them off together to find a pumpkin for Halloween?

I don't know either, and so I am potentially screwed for creative writing. The choice was between two scenes, one of which I had to elaborate on and turn into a full story. The other one would make a funny, awesome story, but unfortunately, it would probably have turned into sci fi. NO GENRE FICTION, she says. ART, NOT ENTERTAINMENT, she says. WRITE STORIES WITHOUT REAL PLOTS, she implies.

There might still be a mouse living in my room, and I haven't been in there since Tuesday morning. Cleaning awaits me as soon as I open that door... *shudder*

Theory is so much easier than reality.

Went yard sale-ing today and found a Gen 1 My Little Pony, which I think I already have somewhere around here, and a fish tank which is smaller than the one I have. I might give Dan the 2.5 gal if he decides he wants to get some fish.

up too late

The "Homie Dog Pound" toy machine at the IGA was broken, but I still ended up with Aikido, the black dog with a black belt. He will join Wolfgang in a pile in my car. If I find a working machine in another supermarket, I will keep trying for Clown Pitty, the West Highland White Terrier with a sad clown face.

My first batch of veggie burgers ended up a lot like falafel-- crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside. This happened because I overcooked the brown rice and barley, which made the patty mixture too moist. At broiling temperature, only the outside cooked. I still had some mixture left, so I added oatmeal until it was the consistency of meatballs, and I ended up with a tasty sort of falafel-burger which went well with BBQ sauce and pepper jack cheese. Dad said something like, "You'll come back to us someday," as if I were a non-edible sheep straying from the flock.

Wednesday, September 21

herbivore like whoa

There are stages of denial. Are there stages of vegetarianism? I have now been a veggie for about 48 hours and so far I have went through:

1. Disgust at the realization that I've been eating dead bodies for 20 years. "Meat is Murder" by The Smiths is what triggered this. I've listened to the song a thousand times, but it nevery fully hit before.
2. Decision to stop eating dead bodies, but not dairy or eggs. That is, if I liked eggs.
3. Disbelief that I no longer eat meat. It was very surreal getting dinner at Donovan, because normally I would have gotten something with meat, but I only ordered rice and carrots.
4. Defense towards my decision which, completely as I expected, was met negatively by my parents.
5. Excitement at all the fun recipes I'll get to try out. I love cooking.

Various people*, upon being told about my decision, immediately questioned me and tried to convince me I had made a wrong decision, as if I hadn't thought this out. In fact, this was something I considered a few months ago, just to try out. So two nights ago, when I had my epiphany and spent a few hours trying not to throw up, the choice was obvious; my thinking had been done months ago, and there was no reason not to. It's not as if I was particularly enamoured of meat anyways.

Conveniently, I already have a huge pot of vegetarian chili in the fridge. I've been making my chili vegetarian for a long time now, just because my mixture of peppers, tomatoes, corn, and beans is more flavorful than meat.

There is a mouse living in my bedroom.

*My parents and non-barbershop Mike

Monday, September 19


I already posted this twice in my livejournal, but I thought I'd put it here too because it actually interests me. This is probably the best politic ideology-labelling quiz I've seen. Some are too in-depth and confusing, others are too simple. The word "socialist" often has negative connotations, but I'm not too surprised that it was my result. There's this contempt I have for the very rich, those people with millions and millions of dollars, who only spend enough of it on charity to not look like arses. If you've earned 100 million dollars, of course you're entitled to spend it on the house of your dreams, car of your dreams, children's educations, really awesome swimming pool, etc... But even after buying all these things, a huge amount of the 100 million will still be left over, and that should be filtered down to society.

You are a

Social Liberal
(78% permissive)

and an...

Economic Liberal
(21% permissive)

You are best described as a:


Link: The Politics Test on Ok Cupid

Kristin Lee versus the Alternate Universe Tim Guy

Whatever happened to "the customer is always right" or, at the very least, confirming that the customer is wrong? This morning I drove by the Tim Horton's/ Shell Station on Killingly Street and the sign advertised Tanks (the extra large, served in a lovely styrofoam cup) for $1.09. Tanks are usually $1.90, so this was apparently an accident, but Tim Horton's is still obligated to sell the Tank for $1.09 as advertised.

Me: So, your Tanks are on sale, eh? (Note how I was trying to be nice. I could have come right out and said, "Someone fucked up your sign.")
Tim Guy: Uh, no, they're the usual price.
Me: Well, your sign out there says $1.09.
Tim Guy: What sign? (There was only one sign, and I pointed to it.)
Tim Guy: Oh. It doesn't say $1.09. It says $1.99. That's the usual price. (It wasn't.)
Me: I checked it twice.
Time Guy: The other 9 must have blown off.
Me: No. There are three digits. One. Point. Zero. Nine.
Tim Guy: I put up the sign this morning and it said $1.99.
Me: That's not what it says now. (As the guy obviously had poor comprehension skills, I gave in and bought Dan and I each a medium coffee instead.)
Me: Any idea what "Happy People W Antedam" means?"
Tim Guy: What?
Me: That's what the other side of the sign says.
Tim Guy: Well you see, the numbers blow off. (This, to him, was sufficient proof that he had won the Tank argument.)

I surrendered, and sat down to scratch a Crossword ticket with Dan. Mark my words, if that mistaken sign is still there tomorrow, I will be merciless, and I will have my ultra-cheap Tank.

Sunday, September 18

magic animal vortex and the furs of mother russia

Right now I'm confused because Mike sent me cryptic, magical animals:

Mister McBrit: I'm downloading David the Gnome.
Mister McBrit: To watch.
Mister McBrit: :]
hobbitsubculture: i've never seen it, but i know Dan loved it
Mister McBrit: Rupert was my favourite.
Mister McBrit: How I loved that show.
hobbitsubculture: maybe i'll download it just so i'll have some idea of who this rupert is
Mister McBrit: Here: (Sorry, couldn't post the picture. But know that it features a white bear and a badger, both well-dressed, sitting on a rock with swirling stars around them. They look confused.)
hobbitsubculture: that looks familiar, whatever it is
Mister McBrit: Goodnight, Kris.
Mister McBrit: Tired.
Mister McBrit: :P
Mister McBrit is away at 1:24:10 AM.

Which one of these animals is Rupert? Are they both Rupert? Is Mike trying to threaten me with a seemingly innocent picture of a swirling, magical animal vortex which will swallow me whole and deposit me in the upper left-hand corner of nowhere? Should I be alarmed like those well-dressed creatures sitting on the rock? Or did he somehow know that it would make me happy to speculate the meaning of this picture?

I've been spending a lot of time on livejournal lately, mostly reading and commenting and doing the random question thing.

Mother Russia's premier music downloading website, has a retrospective album, Should God Forget, by the Psychedelic Furs. This is all I've been listening to for the past few days.

Monday, September 12

fun with msn

My Prizm has a prism, courtesy of Daniel.

The "Are you a Flirt" quiz from MSN says that I know how to flirt when I want to, and I know how to keep men attracted with my sexual energy. This seems like it could be useful for manipulation purposes, although I'm quite certain I've never consciously flirted with anyone.

MSN also had an article on cell phones for kids. Big companies are marketing cellies just for kids, even kids as young as six, with bright colors and educational games. Apparently some parents think it's a good idea to give a six year-old a cell phone, in case of emergency. Now, unless a kid has terrible parents, when is she/ he going to be in a situation where there is neither a land phone nor an adult with his/ her own cell phone?

Dear Dan,
You are the best person to ever exist. I had so much fun with you today on our 31st monthiversary, just being sappy, playing with your hair, and beating you at chess. I love that we know how to make each other laugh, like when I told you earlier about the anti-towel. You're the smartest person I know, even though you made stupid moves which allowed me to take your queen and your bishop one after the other. You're also handsome and wonderful, so wonderful that I wish I could buy you one of those bags that Mary Poppins has. You're the only person in the entire world who I would trust with such a bag. Really, think of the power. Power corrupts, you know. It's really a good thing there wasn't a sequel to Mary Poppins, because then we would have had to watch her in a downward spiral as she becomes corrupted and tries to steal entire countries and put them in that bag. Think of the horror when the entire country of Luxembourg is wiped out by that lamp she carries around! Think of her entire army of storm troopers, rushing out of that bag to decimate the good penguins of that weird cartoon segment in the first movie! Anyways, the point of this is that I love you more than anything, especially because I know exactly what you'll think of my Mary Poppins tangent.

Sunday, September 11


Today I went on a number of small errands. I was very happy to go out and buy paper towels, yogurt, and apples, then pick up my fishbowl at the Quiray's, and then get Half & Half at Lil Gen, because I was driving my very own car!

2001 Chevrolet Prizm, gold/ tan/ beige. A Toyota Corolla in all but upholstry. 3 speed automatic, tape player and radio with excellent audio controls, and high-pitched whining noise when the lights are left on.

I've put on a Mickey Mouse head Union Jack antenna ball, a RIC English Major window sticker, and a coconut scented dream catcher air freshener.

Last night I went outdoors, and for a second I thought someone was visiting. The family hasn't owned anything but station wagons for the last ten years, so seeing a small sedan in the driveway usually means that someone's over.

Monday, September 5

best. historical. dude. ever.

I'm Joshua Abraham Norton, the first and only Emperor of the United States of America!
Which Historical Lunatic Are You?
From the fecund loins of Rum and Monkey.

I yoinked this quiz from the livejournal of AJ, who happens to be an even bigger asshole than I thought, judging by his callous and narrow view of hurricane Katrina's devastion. Just because one person can't comprehend feeling compassion for people one has never met, doesn't mean others feel the same. And to assume that a person who does care about what happened only cares out of an obligation is just pretending to have an insight. Sure, there are people out there who may only act as if they care, but they aren't the entire world. The whole depressing view reminds me of Hobbes' idea that people will, in a natural state, only look out for themselves. I tend to be more partial to Kant, because it's a fairly liveable philosophy, but when I see people like AJ, I wonder if maybe Hobbes was the one who had it right. Even a few such self-centered people can tip the balance of the entire world.

I only realized a few months ago why the comic strip is called "Calvin and Hobbes." Stupid of me. Actually, I still don't know why, but I only recently got the reference

Sunday, September 4

decades and puzzle pieces

Today my grandma turned 85, and she requested that her whole family come to church with her for the occasion. One moment in church, I had a revelation; Mary Kay, one of the church ladies, handed gram a potted plant, which she reached out shaking hands to accept. I remember not that long ago, one day when I went over for a visit, gram said her hands used to be like mine. As she spent forever reaching out those hands to grasp the plant, I wondered if she was remembering the smoother, stronger hands she once had. It's one of those thoughts that hangs around the subconscious and is never fully realized until it is understood so completely that to explain it seems so stupid, because it's just an obvious fact, more obvious than the sky's blueness. In that moment, I connected the old woman I've known all my life to the stories she always tells about times before my memory. I could never fully comprehend that gram was my age once, even with the pictures to prove it. Of course, without my knowing it, she has always been carrying around the memory of her 20 year-old self, and it has been a burden on her old fingers to remember that they were once young.

Hey Dan, did you catch that I wrongly used the word "subconscious?"

scene focusing on setting

I'm posting this on my blogger because the version of Word on this computer is wonky, and because I can acess it more easily from school. It's my scene focusing on setting, although it doesn't done yet, and I'm pretty sure it's entertainment, not art.

After thirty-five minutes of traversing a labyrinthine mess of sticky escalators and fake plants, Star was at last able to confirm that the mall directory has in fact been manufactured on another planet. One her left, plastered on the window of Tropical Bliss Tanning, was a collage of brown bikini-clad women, shining advocates of glamour, volleyball, and skin cancer. To her right, a women's clothing store sold clothes to match newly fried skin. Sandwiched between these peddlers of transmutation was the reason Star had come to this mall in the first place: Madame Zella, psychic guide.

Two floors higher than the mall directory claimed, Madame Zella's storefront stood out from the rest of the mall, an oasis of mystical commercialism in the midst of the glamourous, yet mundane, commercialism. Satin curtains of purple and ebony made it stand out like a bruise on the lighter, candied skin of the rest of the mall. The letters on Madame Zella's sign recalled rotting circus wagons and unemployed clowns, even as they guaranteed access to the wisdom of the heavens and lucky lottery numbers found in tea leaves and palm wrinkles. It was a portal to other worlds to paths illuminated by celestial light, and yet, the store fit all the same building codes as those around it.

Star yanked her right foot from the gummy tiles of the mall and stepped over the threshold, through a tinkling beaded curtain of faceted black beads, onto a gritty doormat with an Eye of Horus on it. Another step, and she was through the plastic cascade, which she now remembered seeing at Spencer gifts. The inside of the store was hung with black tapestries with prominent Eye of Horus and zodiac motifs. A rotating fan in the corner ruffled the draping cloth, occasionally revealing a muted paisley wallpaper.