Been Away – Once 15 September 2008
Posted by Suzi Moonlight in Once.Tags: backpacking, belgium, brussels, cologne, england, europe, france, frankfurt, germany, london, paris, salisbury, travel, uk
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It’s not that I’ve only been away once. It’s that I’ve been away, and it was a once type thing. Here we go:
I once went to Europe with little notice and very little money.
Someone told me they were going overseas with a backpack and no agenda. Of course, I asked if I could go along. I got back a little while ago. I went to England, Belgium, Germany, and France. I’d never been out of the states before.
I believe it is my duty to tell anyone who’s never been overseas the simple truth. Europe stinks. If you’ve been to London or Paris, you know what I mean. You come back with all your pretty pictures and show them to everyone and tell them everything was beautiful and the food was amazing, but you don’t tell them the whole story. You don’t want them to know how bad it is over there. How the streets smell like urine worse than the dirtiest public bathrooms in the U.S.. You don’t tell them that Paris smells like urine and dog poop. How the major cities are decaying before your eyes. You don’t tell them that there are very, very pungent people everywhere. You don’t want them to know that you spent thousands of dollars to go to cities that have a few historic structures, but smell like a restroom you wouldn’t use no matter how badly you had to go. You don’t tell them that. I will.
Seriously, don’t ever go to Paris. I have the choice here of spoiling your dreams of romantic Paris, or letting you make your own mistake and finding out how bad it is first-hand. I think it would be reckless and wrong of me not to let you know. It’s disgusting. Paris is neither romantic nor beautiful if you have any sense of smell what-so-ever. London smells like millenniums of people (okay, men, at least mostly) peeing in the streets. It has all built up over the years and the sun hits it and it is horrible – truly horrible.
Please, heed my warning. I didn’t have a lot of money to spend over there, so I don’t have to pretend or try to impress people. I can tell you what I saw – and smelled. I would never go to Paris again. I would go through London to other places, only because it’s cheaper to fly in there. I would never go to Brussels again. Brussels is a post-apocalyptic city. It was dirty, smelly, and decaying. I told someone I was going to post that, and they said Belgians would come and kill me. I seriously considered it. It was a very dangerous-looking city.
There, that’s my warning. I don’t know what else I could say to stop you from going to those places, so let’s move on to the good part.
Like I said, I didn’t have much money. I wasn’t planning a vacation this year, but when the opportunity popped up, well… I jumped. I bought all those tiny bottles of things, dug out a backpack I’ve had for years but hadn’t used, took out my never-used passport and left. We traveled by train so much it felt like the ground was moving for days after we arrived in a city. We stayed at a couple hostels and a few hotels. In Europe especially, the hotels are just about as cheap for two people as a hostel would cost. We had an amazing time, despite the smells. The London Underground was so easy to use, it was like it was designed for children. The trains were fairly inexpensive and went nearly everywhere.
I loved Germany. I went to Frankfurt and Cologne. I went to Salisbury in England and loved it. I would highly recommend any of those cities.
Would I ever go overseas again? That’s a tough question. It was an interesting trip, but I was genuinely shocked with how dirty and smelly it all was. After I came home, someone told me the most they can take of Europe is ten days, tops. They couldn’t tell me that before I left? I was there longer. It will probably take me a while to get over it, or forget just how bad it is over there.
I was once a Chinese Vampire Baby 8 June 2008
Posted by Suzi Moonlight in Once.Tags: animals, kids, pets, robotron, vampires
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I should start with, I once used to read a blog called Hollywoodactor.com. In my last post, I mentioned it. Now the whole site is gone. Well, the page is still up, but all the posts are gone. I had nothing to do with that, honestly. It had been around forever, so I don’t know why it’s not around since I mentioned it.
About the title of this post, I’m not Chinese. As a baby, however, I looked Chinese. Strangers would ask my mom if I was adopted, seriously. I had very slanted eyes. I don’t now, so I don’t know why I did then. When my first teeth came in, they were my fangs (incisors?). Until more teeth came in, I was a Chinese vampire baby. I’m sure my mother loved it.
I once owned an iguana. I know what that makes me sound like. I’m not one of those crazy reptile people. I do like reptiles more than birds, but I never wanted to have a reptile.
I’m not great with pets. I go from over-protective to ‘how long has your water bowl been dry?’ I treat pets like people. That doesn’t mean I dress up my dog. It means, my dog understands terms or concepts that are necessary. She doesn’t know ’sit’. She doesn’t know ‘beg’ or ’stay’ or any of the things people teach dogs. She knows ‘wait’ or ‘one minute’ – either words or holding up one finger. It means, I can’t take you out just this second, but I acknowledge the request and will get to it in a minute. She knows ‘mine’. That means whatever I am eating, I am not going to share it with her. I use this for things she’s not allowed to have. She knows ‘bad bone’. It means whatever I have (like chicken) has bones she cannot eat. She doesn’t like those phrases, but she knows what they mean and will sulk away. She knows ‘this way’ ‘that way’ ‘mailbox’ ‘later’ ’short walk’… terms that make both our lives easier, because it puts us both on the same page.
I was talking about an iguana though, wasn’t I? The sister of a friend got an iguana from her friend. Her friend had let her dogs chase the iguana through the house, then didn’t understand why it wasn’t tame. She couldn’t handle it, so she gave it to my friend’s sister. My friend’s sister had no idea what she was in for and after the second time of getting a tail-lashing, asked my friend to please take the iguana. It was wild. It would bite and lash, constantly. My friend already owned an iguana and thought she could handle both of them. She couldn’t handle the wild one. I like reptiles. I’m pretty good at taming animals, but iguanas live about 9 years and require a lot of space – they get about five feet long. She had to ask me a few times.
I took the iguana. I named her… damn, I can’t put that… after the dog in the movie The Lost Boys. I built her a cage. I fed her and ignored her for about 3 weeks to give her a ‘chill’ period. Then, I cut a hole in the top of the cage and put a stick coming out of it. After a while, she started climbing the stick and hanging out on top of the cage. I would pet her occasionally, but ignore her mostly. I wanted her to get used to not being hassled. Eventually, I built her a stand. It was a leveled ‘home’ with lighting, a heat rock, a bed area. We had a few fights, but they were fair fights. She would climb on my desk and throw everything off of it, to claim it. I would put her back on her stand, rub my desk and bob my head. The iguana form of ‘mine’. I only had to do that twice and she got it. My friend would come visit sometimes. One time my iguana bit her. She tried to pet her while she was sleeping. I was so proud. That meant, I hadn’t broken her spirit to tame her. She wasn’t submissive. She was confident. Good for her. I gave my friend some antibiotic cream, but couldn’t help beaming.
I once broke a million in Robotron. Some day, I hope to have a real Robotron machine. I loved that game. I just realized recently that the theme to Futurama has sound effects from Robotron. The theme is based on the song Psyché Rock by Pierre Henry. If you know Robotron, listen to this and you’ll hear the level changes from the game.
I once appeared to have the power of resurrecting the dead. I was at a friend’s house with her kids. A bird flew into the sunroom window. We all ran down to have a look. I picked up the bird to show the kids. They all gathered around and petted it. Yes, I know the bird could have lice, but how often do kids get to pet wild birds, even dead ones? I let them pet it. Then, I felt it wiggle a little and closed my hands. I opened them, and the bird flew away. The kids watched it, then turned to me and stared like I was magic. It was magic. The whole thing was magic.
Only One Really Astounds Me 12 May 2008
Posted by Suzi Moonlight in Once.Tags: code, dancing, desk, drawings, girls, handbook, left-handed, patent
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I once got a desk off the back of a truck headed for the dump. I had a desk at the time and didn’t believe I needed another – or a different one. My friend called:
Friend: I think you’re going to want this…
Me: I have a desk.
Friend: It’s solid wood, about 50 years old, stained Mahogany – you like Mahogany.
Me: I have a desk.
Friend: It’s left-handed.
Me: I’ll be waiting outside.
I’ve mentioned before, I’m left-handed. I don’t search out left-handed things, but when offered I’ll take them. Thing is, I don’t get how a desk that’s atleast 50 years old could be left-handed – it is, but I don’t get it. We’re talking the 1940’s. In a book I read recently, the author said there are still parent who will discourage their child’s use of the left-hand for writing. Growing up, there weren’t many left-handers in my classes. Our school had, maybe, two left-handed desks. The desk my friend gave me is a huge (executive) desk with glass on top. Being very old, that means some professional likely had the desk custom-made. Even more unusual, there is a smaller (though far from small), dropped area. I suppose it’s for a typewriter, but it fits a keyboard wonderfully, with the monitor sitting on the area above it. It’s almost as though the desk was custom-made for me.
I once filed a patent. It is for a [adjective, adjective] photo frame. I have to leave out that key part, not for fear someone would steal my idea, but because I could be found through it. Prior to filing the patent, I filed a Provisional Patent. The design garnered the interest of [major corporation], but after talks they decided it would be easier to take it. They told me they didn’t believe the patent would be approved, based on ‘prior art’ – meaning, it seemed a logical step in development. I had a search done. No similar prior art. I filed the patent. It will probably be a few years before I know if the patent is approved. I’m sure [major corporation] has looked over my filing. It showed up in a Google patent search recently. Kind of neat.
I once cleared a dance floor. Seriously. Like you see in movies. I have no idea how or why it happened. I can dance, but most everyone can. My sister can’t. She has this odd way of dancing that looks like dancing, but is completely off-beat. I’ve tried to imitate it, but it’s very hard. The beat calls you to it, so I can only do it for a few seconds. It’s really an amazing talent on her part.
I was at a club with a friend, and we were dancing. The song started, Mony, Mony – Billy Idol’s cover. It was an old song, but upbeat. Since I usually went dancing with him, we were in-synch on moves. I could change styles mid-song, and he would be right behind me. We were dancing a little jazz-era fun thingy. I don’t have dance training, but I can usual imitate anything I see dance-wise – idiot savant. I was laughing, because it was fun popping around, then I looked up. Everyone had left the dance floor. It wasn’t like the way everyone leaves the dance floor when Straight Up is played – that song is totally undanceable. They were all lined up around the railing surrounding the dance floor – watching us. It was completely, utterly frightening. I’m shy. Seriously. I don’t like attention. This was a wall of eyes. I thought my legs would just stop moving. My body would freeze, but the beat was going and so was I. Another guy I knew leaned over the railing and yelled, “I wanna dance with you!” and pointed right at me. Yes, it’s interesting, several years on, but at the time? Horrifying. Honestly.
I once dated a guy who claimed to have the ‘girls’ handbook’. He described it as a translation dictionary for what girls say, and what girls really mean. Problem is, I never got my copy, so I didn’t know I was supposed to talk in code. I don’t know the usual games. If I’m mad at someone, I tell them why. When I say, ‘I’d like to be alone.’ That’s what I mean. I don’t mean anything else. He was very, very confused by me. I hope he threw the damned thing out.
I Once Encountered a Fibonacci Golden Ratio Poetry Annoyance 8 May 2008
Posted by Suzi Moonlight in Once.Tags: coincidence, fib, fibonacci, fibs, golden ratio, poetry
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I
do
not like
the onslaught
of coincidence
including this fib you read now
Writing Onces 25 April 2008
Posted by Suzi Moonlight in Once.Tags: emotions, lying, writing
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I mentioned in my explanation of this blog that I once wrote a book. I did. It was published. I wrote it under my pen name [insert pen name here]. It’s a collection of short stories, leaning towards speculative fiction. It wasn’t a vanity publishing, but my friend does own the company. My friend wanted a new book, but none of her authors had anything ready, so she asked me to put together something. I got to design the cover myself and the layout. The [unusual layout] was a little hard to do, but she pulled it off.
There are a few once things I can never post. There would be too many [blanks]. I once wrote a website [genre of webpage] to [can't even dance around it] that spawned numerous other [similar webpages]. Mine was first, and the Wayback Machine proves it. My best friend said I was crazy for making [that specific type of page to that specific thing], but the flood of copies proved I’m not… well, either that or there are a lot of other nutcases on the net. Oh, and no, it had nothing to do with bizarre culinary tastes of internet icons.
Incase you haven’t noticed, there are a few [blanks] in this blog. Everything in it is the truth, that’s why I’m a little vague on the specifics. Okay, everything is true, except my last name isn’t Moonlight, but is it really necessary to point that out?
I was once asked to write a short piece for [insert semi-famous magazine here] for an article about what people do on an average day. Some of the people were very famous. I am not. I sold my 15 minutes on eBay to an anonymous bidder. (Damn, I should really do that!) My piece was about being the tech for [my domain name] and things I do on the net.
No, I’m not famous. I just leave things out that people I know might find. Not like crazy stalkers, they all know my website. One of my friends is sure I have a blog somewhere. Problem is, I can’t lie. She knows I can’t lie. I’ve never had a good enough memory to be able to lie. I would get caught very, very easily. An hour later, they could ask me the same question, and I’d have no idea what I just told them.
It is very hard to get around answering, “You have a blog somewhere. I know you do.” Luckily, that wasn’t a question, so I answered it with, “You’re crazy. I blogged for years before it was even called blogging. Why would I go back to it now?” Unbelievably, she bought it. If she seriously wanted to know, she’d just ask me directly.
While I can’t lie, I can avoid a vague question. If the asker (whatever spellcheck, you don’t recognize the word ‘internet’ either) isn’t paying attention, this will work, and people often aren’t paying close enough attention. However, I find it entirely impossible to lie when the answer is ‘yes’ or ‘no’. I can think the answer I would like to say, but it won’t come out. The truth pops out, and there’s not stopping it. See, that’s the kind of thing I don’t want people who know me to find out. I could be put into awkward situations by anyone armed with that knowledge.
I recently saw a report about children lying. The report said, lying is part of the emotional development of humans. They learn emotions through lying. Learn to judge people’s reactions and guess what the person wants to hear.
If the report was right, look around at your friends. The highly emotional ones, those are the liars. The more reserved, they are the honest ones. Out of four of my friends, this holds true. They are the extremes. My other friends fall somewhere in the middle, not too emotional, not horrible liars. My one friend, who has no idea what truth is, is also the most emotional person I know.
My friends often comment on my… lack of emotions. I’m a little stoic but, oddly, I am also easily amused. So while I may not cry about something they would, they don’t get excited about the silly things I do. I can talk about an unusual bug like I saw the face of God, but that doesn’t count if you don’t cry when your dog gets hit by a car. I didn’t see the point. It wouldn’t bring the dog back. I was more concerned with how I was going to get him home to give him a proper burial. I had to console my friend. “It will be all right. He didn’t even know what hit him.” Everyone thought it was her dog.
Now, I’m afraid I’ve painted myself as a horrible monster who doesn’t care when her dog dies. I did care. I was sad about it, but there were details that needed to be taken care of at that moment. Which would be better, to sit on the curb and cry my eyes out, or get my dog out of the street, home, and buried? It would have been wrong to leave the dog lying there in the street and selfishly cry about it. He was a good dog. He deserved better.
