I Am a Fish and Why Winter is Humbug

I don't like Winter. There, I've gone and spit some humbug in your eggnog but it had to be said: I hate winter.

When I was a young, sticky hobbit it was an even tie between the sheer delight of presents and the moist, toe-curling horror of that snow that finds its way into the thought-impenetrable fortress of snow suit and woolen wear. Now we don't even have snow, just skeletal trees and naked fields and COLD. I mean, COME ON. Winter's only excuse for being a season is having snow. Without those postcard-perfect flakes of natural disaster dandruff its just the inedible cone without the ice cream, the bread minus Nutella, the hot water without the hot coco. Its a shameless sham of nature!

Lately I've felt much more like a Christmas hermit than a Christmas caroler. Or maybe a lone-wolf caroler who can't sing worth a sprig of mistletoe (which, did you know, is poisonous if ingested? Yup, I've gotta rain on all the parades.) My hours are spent building pockets of body heat with blankets in which to read, baking cookies and toffee, and (when i'm feeling really brave) entering the warzone that is last-minute Christmas shopping. Another little known holiday fact I might have made up: Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer wasn't born with that scarlet nose, he got it while wrestling over the last Polly Pockets Glam Set with an irate Aunt.

I'm seriously considering making a last-minute addition of one of those artificial sun lamps to my Christmas list. Right up until lunch time the watery-dregs of sunlight are trying their best only to be swallowed up by what I like to call THE BLACKNESS. Or Bob. We are so well acquainted now, after all. Its a little like being one of those needle-jawed fish with a bad overbite and glowing headgear in the depths of the ocean so far from the surface that they never see the light of day, blindly navigating grottoes of nibbling predators. Clearly I need a shot of Christmas cheer, straight into the vein. And to stop watching creepy Discovery Channel documentaries.

Christmas isn't all seasonal depression and money-mongering, of course. There is also the constant merri-go-round of sickness. But really, there are perks to the shiver-some months. For example, our Christmas tree. I'm not sure why but dragging oversized shrubbery into my living room every year brings me joy. Something about the nonsensical idea of trees in my house combined with the fairy-light fire hazzard sparks the inner pyromaniac and warms my heart. Christmas lights in and of themselves are pretty grand, too. Not the huge house displays of strobe-light rainbows that aren't safe for the epileptic-prone to see, no. I like the simple white lights looped around roof-edges, window-sills, and railings. Its like a hundred lightening bugs frozen in time.

So guzzle that eggnog, wear your "I'm at home, the neighbors can't see me" clothes in public under your winter coat, and remember the true reason-for-the-season: raw cookie dough. I mean Jesus's birthday. But cookie dough is important, too.

Merry Christmas,

Hannah

PUT. DOWN. THE. CAMERA.

The camera was a glorious, life-changing invention. It captured people and places and memories and has become as much an everyday part of life as breathing and tweeting. However with every great invention (and sci-fi movie) there is a dark side. Introducing: Camera Crimes.

1) Baby Pictures

It is a truth universally acknowledged that everyone loves an adorable baby picture. Don't even try to deny it, boys, you know those peachy little chipmunk cheeks and anime eyes melt your macho hearts like butter on a hot engine or rifle or...something else manly. And what parents wouldn't want to capture the overwhelming cuteness of their baby before it grows into a terrifying toddler, an emotionally distraught middle schooler, and worse *shudder* a teenager. However there is a fine line between too cute... and torture.

Exhibit A: Good Baby Photo

Exhibit B: Bad Baby Photo

(Do you not SEE this? Obviously the small child is being eaten by a care bear.) 

You see adorable semi-nude baby photography. I see cold, shivering, sticky hours spent forced to cuddle with a wicker basket. Just imagine how this kid is going to react when he gets older. "You did WHAT? You took nude pictures of me stuffed in a peppermint jar and posted them on the internet?! MOM!"

2) Instagram
 Ahhh, the fabulous social media website and facebook tool that allows you to take pictures of anything, and I mean anything, put it through a variety of filters for instant photoshop, and show it to everyone you know. It only crosses the line to ridiculous when you begin taking pictures of everything else and calling them art. Like dirty dishes, ketchup bottles, and boogers.

Exhibit A: Good Instagram

                                           

Exhibit B: Bad Instagram

Inanimate objects are only the gateway drug which, as everyone knows, leads directly to...

3) Selfies

Exibit A: Good Selfies

Note: If you are someone who occasionally posts pictures of themselves on various social media networks please don't be offended. There is a difference between a tasteful picture of yourself and...the below. Most likely, hopefully, you are the first kind. 

Exibit B: Bad Selfies

The "Just checking my Facebook and accidentally took a picture..."

The "Oh! Coincidentally high enough to show cleavage!"

The "I turned it sideways so its totally justified!"

The "Peek-A-Boo Abs"

And you aren't fooling anyone with your "Unfiltered! <3 nbsp="nbsp" span="span">nonsense  If its unfiltered than why are your eyes violet and the edges of your face blurry? These kinds of pictures induce a want in the general public not to shoot people with cameras but just flat-out SHOOT people. Also, adding song lyrics does not make it ok. 

It is not flattering. It is not appealing. It is not sexy. Just say NO to duck lips. 

*Note: Not ALL girls*

Ladies and Gentleman, think before you click and post. Your future self will thank you.

Off to instagram my teddygrams,

_Hannah

P.S. Here's a nice serving of self-deprecation for anyone feeling offended (or convicted) after this blog post:

Quack, quack.

Fine Honeys and the Voice From Above

Being a librarian isn't horrible. Besides the shelving and removing petrified pizza pockets from clever hiding spots its pretty peachy. I'm sitting here, way too early to be awake (7:30 am, don't judge me. Its like the middle of the night if you aren't a morning person), munching on a granola bar I dug out of my mother's teacher closet and listening to the priest praying in Mass over the speakers. I would go somewhere else until the nasal droning was over but being a Catholic school building that my homeschool co-op only rents and thus there is a speaker in every room it would be futile. I think even the bathrooms have speakers installed. Honestly I'm just glad that the bathroom stalls have doors this year. Though perhaps the only time when its harder to pee without a door is when it sounds like a priest is praying above your head.

I've been thinking lately (Stop looking so shocked, I do use my cerebrum at full capacity every once in a while, just to make sure it still works) about the word "Beautiful". Sure its a lovely, positive word that, when complimented as beautiful or possessing something of beauty, will draw a grin. Yet I can't help but notice that it has become a scapegoat word. 

Scapegoat Word: The word to use when you can't think of a better one, the socially accepted praise word. 

(Definition as according to the Hannah-Hoo Dictionary, circa 1995.) 

Don't get me wrong, its flattering to be called or have something I've created called beautiful. (Though that's not the usual word people use to describe my blog. Quirky, nonsensical, and charmingly insane are the more common.) At the same time its similar to other scapegoat words like, "Wow", "Ok", "Nice", "Cool", and "Interesting". Like when someone shows you a picture of their newborn and its looks more like a mildly hairy Chinese dumpling than a baby but, due to having some social graces, you say, "Oh, how nice, she's beautiful!" See? Scapegoat words.

Due to this lack of imaginative positive descriptors I have complied a list of alternatives. It doesn't matter if you are complimenting a loved one, a painting, or yourself in a mirror. Get creative and give "Beautiful" a vacation (I'm talking to you, One Direction.) Whatever kind of compliment you choose to substitute with, try to be sincere. Like a convincing lie a convincing complement, even when trying to be nice about an ugly baby, must have a grain of truth. 

Gorgeous 

Swagalicious (Warning: Only acceptable if you are a multi-millionaire Canadian pop singer)

Awe-inspiring

Bewitching

Charming

Classy
Exotic

Dazzling

Graceful

Delightful

Elegant

Altruistic 

Enticing

Exquisite

Fascinating

Foxy

Worthy

Beloved

Grand

Lovely

Creative

Radiant

Ravishing

Resplendent

Stunning

Sublime

   and my all time favorite: 

Pulchritudinous 

Note that these words won't quite fit into all compliments. "Oh my Golden Goldfish, your eyes are _______!" would fit the majority in a way that "Guurl, you such a fine honey. *$#@, that booty be _______!" would not. Though perhaps if the delinquent backstreet boys that hang about outside the metro started upping their complements they would have more takers. Expletives and crude terms will get you nowhere but "My fair lady, your gluteus maximus is of a most rotund and aesthetically-appeasing curvature. Please, allow me to court you." will at least produce a slap instead of a spray of mace.

I hear the wild call of librarian, it sounds like sharpening pencils and the beep of a book scanner. Suddenly I feel the urge to wear a nametag, buy clothing with excessive amounts of brown 'n' beige, and wear sensible shoes. I might have to go deface some math books to regain my Hannah equilibrium. Or do my worldview class homework which consists of reading the textbook and trying not to burst out laughing when reading about "Pantheistic Worldview". Or, as I accidentally said in class, the "Panty-istic Worldview".

Cuddling Hedgehogs,

Hannah