To Better See the Horror

Gasp! We've had three days of sunshine! According to the all knowing twitter it's the first time it had happened in over 279 days. All this sunny weather and the impending DOOM of rapture© day got me into a little bit of post apocalyptic mood. I wandered about the neighborhood and went to the scariest places I could find, so as to note them as places to avoid when we're running away from the zombie hordes.

Also, a few weeks ago i made an emergency preparedness plan.

Redesign

Are you reading this on facebook or perhaps your rss reader? Then you haven't yet seen the fabulous new redesign of my blog! Countless hour went into it and I can't decide if I like it. Trying to strike a balance between nice to look at and not overly girly/manly is more difficult than I anticipated.
I dislike that making something look cool has to mean that it sould be grey, shiny and covered in penises. Alright the penises are figurative but the sentiment stands: just because I'm a girl and appreciate asthetic doesn't mean I want my page to look like a scrapbook.
Sooo...combine templates with my limited knowledge of html (obtained at minority science camp in '95!) and it's difficult to  avoid a generic mush of webpage.  Go take a look. Did I do ok? Are the waves too much? Are you saying to yourself "Yes Gaby we all understand you're half Japanese no need to remind us"? What do you think of my header? I made it using Paint. What do you think of my header now? Comment!

http://youroxenhavedrowned.blogspot.com/

A Foggy Weekday Morn

Pea Soup Morn (sld 1)
Originally uploaded by dulcenea

I've never seen fog like the fogs we get here in Oregon. Describing it as "Pea Soup" doesn't do it justice. It's more accurately described as "Solid Wall of Non-existence". It can be particularly unnerving around bridges when you have to just trust that there is another end (that doesn't end in the maw of some hideous beast). This past morning it was just a light regular fog.

The Industrial Complex has a human face after all

Though apparently it's terrified by what it sees.

The John Hurt moment

Dedicated to my sister who is in the John Hurt way at the moment.

Postcrossing

Did you know?

- My city has 12 bridges

- My boyfriend’s a jerk because he won’t let us have kitties (he isn’t really)

- I’m a fan of Mumford & Sons though not particularly sociable

- I disdain postcard makers that don’t realize that room to write on a postcard is at a premium

- I have a deep and unwavering affection for a boy named Pavel in Belarus

Well now you do, and so does some person in Taiwan.

My friend Maggie recently sent me a link to Postcrossing. It’s for those of us who always wanted a pen pal from some faraway place but failed miserably at corresponding on a semi-regular basis. (Sorry little blonde girl in Ireland whose picture I think I still have; I’m sure you were a really nice 10-year-old 20 years ago, but I barely manage to return books to the library, so there was really no hope for our epistolary friendship). With Postcrossing, there's no need for all that pesky follow-up. If you can manage to muster up a paragraph or even a couple of sentences, slap it on the back of a postcard and (here’s the crucial step that I am close to mastering) mail it to a registered Postcrossing user, then in a few weeks' time you’ll get a postcard back from another random person on the other side of the world.

If the postcards I have received are any indication, most people must expect to receive pretty postcards and aren’t particularly interested in the message on the other side. But honestly, I don’t understand why you would pass up the opportunity to confuse, amuse, love, or possibly irritate a total stranger who is patiently awaiting a card and an introduction from somebody half a world away.

Hopefully, right now there is a boy named Pavel* in Belarus who realizes that he is loved... or at least not too terribly annoyed by my distracted musings.

*Why yes, I am proud that I managed not to ask Pavel to call me and leave a message of him saying “Nuclear Wessels”.