Today was Dad’s birthday. So here is a big HUZZAH to my one and only father, a truly wonderful person. And no, you’re not really that old, Dad….

I got him Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band by the Beatles, and last night I sat down to wrap it. Normally, I love wrapping presents. I love to pull my secret stash of lovely papers, ribbons, and bags out from under my bed and use the colors and textures to create beautiful packages.

I think my gift-wrapping muse must have been away last night, however (must have been past her bedtime), because I somehow managed to let this atrocity make its way into Dad’s hands:

Sure, the blue pinstripe paper is nice. Yeah, the green ribbon is pretty. Even those bubbles and diagonal lines actually looked pretty cool by themselves. But the problem is I DID NOT KNOW WHEN TO STOP. In my late-night delirium I scribbled more and more and more silver lines that I thought would add “balance,” and discovered instead when I stopped to survey my work that I had created a Frankenstein-like patchwork of a present that looked like it had been puked upon by a Magic-silver-Sharpie-cat to boot.

Brian must have been suffering a similar absence of muse yesterday, because he showed up at our house with a present that looked like he had run a Smurf through a pasta maker and topped this poor box with its gruesome remains:

All in all though, I think Dad had a good birthday. We did fun birthday-ish things like having pancakes for lunch and lasagna for dinner, and watching two (count ‘em, TWO!) movies of rock concerts. (Stop Making Sense, a concert of the Talking Heads filmed by Jonathan Demme and The Last Waltz, The Band’s final concert as filmed by Martin Scorsese: both excellent films.)

We also went by Circuit City again so Brian and Dad could look at CDs and movies and stuff, and I ended up buying the soundtrack for Walk the Line, a movie with which I am very enamoured. Oh, for you photography buffs out there: I also spent some time playing with the Canon Digital Rebel XT they had on display there. I love how quickly it turns on and off and responds to the shutter button. It’s a little bit annoying that you can’t see anything on the LCD until you actually take the shot, but I guess that’s the hazard of an SLR, eh? I also loved the manual focus. I felt like I could be a lot quicker on the draw with that camera than with our sadly sluggish Powershot G2. And, as an added bonus, it fit very nicely into my smaller-than-average hands. I played with some of the nicer models of Nikons and Canons there, but they honestly were so bulky that they just would not work for me to use for an extended period of time. So, long story short, I am very interested in the possibility of getting a Digital Rebel…

Anyway, happy birthday, Dad! Maybe next year we’ll be a little bit, uh… less creative with your presents.

For seventeen years, I have successfully hid my true nature.

If you were to meet me on the street, you would probably think I was a normal, perky, dainty, well-adjusted young adult. You would almost certainly not guess the horrifying truth, that I spend more hours in front of the computer each day then I do moving—That I have read almost every Star Wars novel in existence (up until the midpoint of the New Jedi Order series, because I lost interest and really, who wants to read about those Yuuzhan Vong dudes anyway?) and have watched the original trilogy so many times that I can easily picture the intimate details of each character’s facial expressions in any given moment of the films. It’s true—I have distinct geek tendencies. And the first sentence of this post was pretty much a lie, because anyone who knows me even a little bit knows about the geekiness.

And now, it seems, my not-so-secret lifestyle is catching up with me. Over the last several… days? weeks? months? I’m not even sure anymore… my eyes have been growing increasingly strained. I’ve noticed myself squinting at bright lights and rubbing my temples trying to relieve the pressure. I have a hard enough time doing my schoolwork as it is, but when I pick up a book and all the words crowd together on the page, it becomes a Herculean feat to concentrate on reading it. Even surfing the web and writing on my blog have become semi-painful experiences.

Today it was worse than it has ever been, and after a day of shading my eyes from the overcast sky and squinting at words on pages and wearing sunglasses indoors (Sunglasses! Indoors!), I think it is probably time to admit that glasses are likely going to be a part of my near future. I spent the afternoon imagining horrible situations in which I visited an eye doctor, and he informed me that glasses wouldn’t help, and really all I needed to do was stop using computers altogether or else I would LOSE MY EYESIGHT FOREVER. Can you imagine? I don’t know how I would cope without my computer. (Take a moment to let the pathetic-ness of that statement overwhelm you.) I mean, not only do I do a fair amount of my schoolwork on it, but web work is (hopefully) going to be a significant part of my income this summer and goodness knows I would miss blogging.

We will just have to see. In addition to being something of a geek, I am also something of a hypochondriac, so it is entirely possible that I am exaggerating this whole situation in my head. More likely than not, I will go to get my eyes checked and they will say, “You crazy person! You have twenty-twenty vision. It’s all in your head,” and I will go home dejected and wondering whether they were telling me the truth. But there’s also that other possibility, that I will end up fulfilling my geek destiny and earning the nickname “Four-eyes.” *Sigh * I guess we all knew it had to happen someday. I just thought it might at least wait till after my mid-life crisis.

Oh, and, while we’re on the topic of making myself sound ridiculous, why don’t you check out the most ridiculous picture of me you will ever see in your entire life (I hope):

Imagine my embarrassment. Here I am feeding you all these cool, artistic pictures of myself and Natalie has the gall to capture my “flustered goose” look. Oh well. Serves me right.

Last Friday evening, Brian, Melanie, and I went to the Da Vinci Code. If we Julians are known for anything (besides being computer geeks), it is for being movie buffs. When gathered together for some occasion or other, Dad, Brian, and I frequently get into conversations that require a run to imdb.com to sort out who played what in which. So it was fairly natural that when the next big movie that people would be hitting each other upside the head about came out, we would be there.

Many Christians would argue that I should not have gone to see the Da Vinci Code at all. And I can, honestly, understand and respect that opinion. But the way I see it, paying for a movie ticket does not necessarily mean you are endorsing the film you are about to see. In fact, I think it is valuable for Christians to understand what they are up against. (I would argue that this theory does not apply for films that feature gratuitous sex or similarly tasteless content.) But even though I feel okay about seeing the movie, I am more than a bit disturbed by the freedom which Dan Brown (apparently) feels he can play fast and loose with history. I am also afraid that this slick package of a movie will only encourage what seems to be the general consensus on Christianity these days: namely, that it’s great… for those poor souls who are stupid enough to need “faith” as a crutch or an escape from reason. Those crazy Christians… they want to believe in their “version” of Jesus so much that they’re willing to steal and murder to protect it.

So why did I go to see this movie at all? You could partially chalk it up to “train wreck appeal.” I knew that whatever this movie did, it was going to do it in a BIG way and make a big impact on future opinions and conversations. I guess I just wanted to be a spectator to all that. Another, sillier reason is that Brian and Melanie (my brother and sister-in-law) were going, and I wanted to go with them.

And, for all its existential faults, the movie was entertaining. The puzzles that the characters had to solve to follow their treasure hunt were very outrageous and fun. I enjoyed watching them figure it all out. But at the same time, every time Dan Brown’s agenda would rear its ugly head, it became a lot harder to enjoy the movie.

Speaking of “train wreck appeal,” you know what else was really entertaining? Watching this movie with Melanie. Every time this one certain creepy albino character appeared, Melanie would practically jump out of her seat. At one particularly tense moment, as the theater lay in expectant stillness, ALL OF A SUDDEN this certain creepy albino character leaped out of the shadows to grab another character’s throat, and while all of us were surprised, Melanie actually shrieked “OHNOO!!” so loudly that the entire theater could distinctly recognize her voice. Everyone momentarily forgot about the movie, turning instead to look at Melanie who was sinking deep down into her seat. I could hear pockets of giggles and snarky comments drifting towards us from all over the theater. The amusement I derived from this entire situation was only compounded by the fact that fifteen minutes later she screamed AGAIN when the same character appeared onscreen. This time, the couple sitting next to us could barely contain their laughter.

(Please don’t kill me, Melanie. It was a story that needed to be told. )

Just to remind anyone who forgot (or who never knew), my car got stolen a week and a half ago. We recovered it on the same day in fine condition—except it was missing its hood. You can read about the whole thing here.

A couple days ago, I finally got my car back from the body shop. And I would like to complain about the fact that it was done three days later than they told me it would be, but I don’t really have the heart, because it came back looking better than it did the day I bought it. Mom drove me down to the shop, where all she had to do was sign a form authorizing our insurance company to pay for the work. Needless to say, she had no qualms about signing that form.

I was extremely impressed with the service at this body shop—and I honestly felt a little guilty since I didn’t even have to pay for it. I mean, I knew they were going to give my car a new hood, but I didn’t know they were going to wash it, vaccuum it, dust it, and set its clock to the right time! After I finished admiring the hood’s paint job and the shiny exterior of the car, I opened the door to a new-car-smelling interior and noticed a plastic bag sitting on the eerily-clean back seat. “Oh!” I was thinking, “That must be the goody bag where they left chocolate mints and shampoo and a new toothbrush.” In actual fact, it was the bag in which they had deposited all the CRAP they had pried off the various surfaces in my car. (Including, but not limited to: melted breath mints, empty candy wrappers, and a tube of chapstick that I didn’t even know existed.) That was a little bit embarrassing.

Luckily, though, we had a terrific rainstorm this afternoon, so I was immediately able to begin the long, arduous process of tracking all that mud back into my car. So no worries.

All in all, I have made out incredibly well in this whole “stolen car” ordeal. So, uh, car thief dudes? If you’re listening… first of all, you suck. But second of all, could you please take some part of my car every couple of months? Next time take the timing belt or something. On second thought, that was replaced not very long ago. How about the tires? Or maybe just the door that has a dent in it? That would be good to replace. Thanks!

(P.S. That was a joke. If anyone takes my car again, they will die a slow and painful death. Okay, probably not, but I will look very very sternly in their general direction. Beware stealing my car.)

I greet you after an almost-week-long hiatus with… a plea for your money.

Well, sort of. It is really more a plea for your attention and consideration. (That’s not to say, of course, that I wouldn’t be delighted should you decide to contribute to a “new laptop or digitial camera for Erin” fund. You didn’t hear that, Phil!) Let’s be honest: I know that almost every day some non-profit organization or other tugs at your heartstrings and tries to guilt you into donating money. And I know that there are ten million worthy causes out there, all of them vying for your support. So I am naturally hesitant to add my voice to that cacophony, and I am only doing it now because 1) what I am about to tell you about is a cause near and dear to a friend’s heart and 2) it’s a cause that very few people know about. And although this cause needs money, what it needs even more than that is attention, so that is what I hope to provide.

A few weeks ago I was visiting Philip, a fellow web designer and long-time friend. He let me in on a project that his brother and a few friends were trying to set in motion. Phil told me how his brother Jonathan had taken a few trips to Mongolia in the last couple of years, and how he had discovered on his last visit that the government had decided to cut funding for Mongolian children’s schoolbooks (at least in the rural area that Jonathan was visiting; I’m not sure how widespread the problem is). This meant that families who were already struggling to put food on the table could no longer afford to send their children to school.

“Well, no wonder,” you might think, “textbooks are freakin’ expensive.” They are in the U.S., that is. But the amazing thing is, one of these textbooks, a book that a Mongolian child can use for a whole school year, costs only $20 U.S. So Jonathan and a friend have started a non-profit organization, EduRelief, in an effort to raise awareness about this problem and to help some of the children that Jonathan visited. As the poignant video that they put together reminds us, $20 does not go that far in the U.S., but it can send a child to school for a year in Mongolia.

Like I said, I know there are many valuable ways that you can be generous with your money. And this is not necessarily the one that would be best for you to invest in. But it is a worthwhile cause, and because Phil and Jonathan and their friends are currently making a phenomenal effort to get the word out about this problem and its easy solution, I thought that I would give them a hand.

In case you are interested, next week, the week of May 22-28, EduRelief is calling for a week-long coffee boycott. They have observed that many college students spend roughly twenty dollars a week on coffee (whoa), so for every person that decides to give up their coffee for a week and donate that money instead, that will be one more child going to school next year. They’re hoping to reach enough people with this challenge that Starbucks will actually see their sales appreciably decrease next week. (I am honestly a bit skeptical about that, but very willing to be proven wrong.) You can read more about this challenge here.

Now, personally, I think any organization that asks poor caffeine-addicted individuals to give up their sole source of energy for a week is off their rocker. Think how sorry they’ll feel a week from now when the reports of car accidents and failed classes are pouring in from students all over the country. I’m in a bit of a quandary since I have given up coffee for the most part anyway, but perhaps I will give up fast food for the week. I’m sure you fellow non-coffee-drinkers can think of a fitting way to participate.

In all seriousness, though, give EduRelief some thought. Don’t worry if you can’t give money right now—you know what your financial situation is better than I do. And I honestly don’t think this is a question of “right” or “wrong.” The simple fact is: there are some kids who want to go to school, but can’t because they are missing the price of a week’s worth of coffee. Sure, there are a lot of people in the world who need a lot of things, probably many of them more desperately than these children need their textbooks. But if you feel moved to help monetarily or by spreading the word, by all means do so. You know where to go.

I am not trying to pressure you or make you feel guilty. I won’t think less of you if you don’t help. But I do hope that you will at least give the matter some thought, and maybe mention it to a few of your friends in case they would be interested. I just want to help get the word out.

/Plea over. Return to regularly scheduled programming. (P.S. Let me know how those of you who have decided to give up coffee next week are doing! I would like to laugh in your un-caffeinated faces! )

Well, I did it. This afternoon we delivered my application for 20 Below to The Register Guard.

For those of you who don’t live in Eugene (or for those of you who do but don’t know about it anyway), 20 Below is a weekly section of our local paper, The Register Guard. It is written by, about, and for teens. Every year they accept applications in a kind of contest to see who will be on their teenage news team for the following school year. And every year that I have been eligible I have kicked myself as I watched the application date go past and didn’t do anything about it. So, since next year is going to be a little bit of a break from school for me, and the year after I will be starting college, I figured it was now or never.

Just for good measure, I applied for both writer and photographer. I personally feel like writing is my stronger category, but I honestly have no idea what they will think. I would be thrilled to be accepted to either position.

This whole process has been very humbling, and a lot more challenging than I thought it would be when I set out on it. For some reason, the ease with which I share my thoughts here escaped me when I tried to write my application pieces. I think I must have had stage fright or something; my fingers turned to lead and every sentence I typed ended up sounding weighty and contrived. I had to work harder than normal to make it sound “natural” and interesting. I did end up being pretty happy with the pieces I submitted—but of course I’m not totally saitisfied with them. I don’t think I ever would have been, no matter how long I worked. And now I’ve had to send them like little children off to their first day of school, hoping that their good qualities shine through and that they don’t get their feelings hurt.

I have been thinking about and puzzling over this application for several weeks now, ever since I learned that today was the deadline. Early on, I wrote the editor of the 20 Below program to ask him if it would be acceptable to adapt a post from my blog to submit as the required story with my application. He told me he thought that would be fine… as long as I don’t have a cult following of thousands of people who would already have read it. (Not yet, eh? ) I originally planned on modifying my infamous “Tossing My Proverbial Easter Cookies,” because I am particularly fond of its comic timing. But after Wednesday being the eventful day that it was, I decided to write about my car instead.

I am still not sure that was the right decision. I second guessed it to the moment that I handed off the envelope this afternoon. And I continued to second guess it all evening at work, thinking over the contents of my story and picking them apart. I know that I could be a great member of the 20 Below team. I know it. But I’m just not sure that I gave them what I needed to prove it. Only time will tell.

But there’s nothing I can do now. It’s gone. Sealed in its little envelope, sitting somewhere in Register Guard headquarters, waiting to be read by some important person. At least I know this much: whatever the outcome of those two humble applications we dropped off today, I can’t say I didn’t try.

And no matter whether or not I become some big-shot newspaper writer (haha), I know I will continue writing here. That may be more fulfilling in the long run anyway.

(P.S. I did talk about my website in my application, so it is entirely possible that one or two folks from the Guard might make their way over here. I know they’re probably really busy with all the applications and may not take the time to check it out, but if any of you are here from 20 Below: Hi! I hope you’re considering me for your team. But don’t worry, I won’t be too mad at you if you aren’t. )

This is the reward I get for leaving my window open again today.

More baby spiders in my room.

Grand.

teensy bit of sarcasm

I almost can’t believe everything that has happened today. It hit me in the face from almost the moment I woke up. I got up, got dressed, put on my makeup, grabbed my schoolbooks, and walked outside to my car… except my car wasn’t there. I stood there, unable to move or blink, staring at the empty stretch of curb in front of which my car should be parked. My mind raced: Could Dad have taken it? No, he already took his car today. Could Elijah have moved it? He still has a key to it, but I knew he wasn’t in town this morning. Could there be any reasonable explanation at all? I doubted it.

After what seemed like years, I turned around and walked back inside. I woke Mom up and explained the situation to her.

“Mom… I’m trying not to freak out… but my car’s not outside.” And then, as I knew they would, the tears started streaming down my cheeks. She quickly got up and jumped into action. I called Elijah to double-check that he hadn’t moved my car; and, of course, he hadn’t. Then I sat there at the kitchen table, numbly listening while Mom called the police and described my beautiful car to them.

“Yes, it was a 1995 red Honda Civic. The last time we remember seeing it was around 6:30 last night.”

Sure, she could give them the physical paramaters of my car. But could she really make them understand its soul? Could they possibly realize how important it was to me? That it was my baby? That I scrounged up every penny I had to pay for it? That it meant freedom and independence? That it had carried me and my friends up to my brother’s wedding and back? Could they possibly understand?

This is certainly not the first time something like this has happened on our street. We live in a relatively nice neighborhood, but even so we regularly get reports of some neighbors’ car being stolen or vandalized. Just a few months ago, as I wrote about before, Elijah’s bag was stolen out of his car on our street. We never recovered Elijah’s bag, but I knew that the Eugene police have a pretty good recovery rate for stolen cars, and several of my friends who have had their cars stolen later got them back—usually sans radio or anything else of value. So this morning I held out hope that they would bring my baby back to me… but I kissed my stereo and CDs goodbye. Honestly, though, at that point I didn’t care if they were gone as long as I could get my car back.

Ten or fifteen minutes of numb contemplation later, a policeman arrived at our house to get our full report. He was very friendly and understanding as he asked us for details. He told us that the chances of recovering my car were “fair,” telling us they could find it in days, weeks… or never. He also warned us that should we happen to find the car anywhere, we should not get in it or drive it anywhere, because now that it was reported the police would not hesitate to pull anyone out of the car at gunpoint.

After the policeman left, Mom called our insurance company to let them know what had happened. While she was on the phone with them, one of our neighbors came to our door. She lives just down the street from us, and regularly walks her dog past our house. She was hoping to find out why the police car was here (she knows us, so I don’t think she thought we were being busted or anything. I think she knew something must have happened to us. ). I explained to her that my car had been stolen, and she said how sorry she was, and I figured that was the end of it.

Not very long after that, I saw her walking back up our driveway. I wondered what she wanted now… and when I went to answer the door, she asked me, “Erin! What’s your license plate number?” I told her. “I found your car!” she exclaimed. I couldn’t believe my ears… needless to say, I grabbed my cellphone and bolted out the door after her.

She led me to a neighborhood less than a mile away from our house. And there was my baby… pulled hastily over to the wrong side of the road, a foot or two away from the curb… and missing its hood. I ran up to it, hardly able to believe my eyes. As disturbing as it is to see your car carelessly tossed aside with all its innards exposed, I was just so happy that I had found it.

My neighbor waited there with me while I called the police. The policeman hadn’t even made it down to city hall, so they had him turn around and come back. The woman whose house the car was parked in front of came out to talk to us. Turns out she and her husband had been puzzling over the hood-less car in front of their house all morning, and were getting ready to report it to the police. Also, her husband had noticed a car hood on our street, down the road from our house, when he went out jogging this morning. Mom went to check it out, but it was a black, beat-up car hood—probably the one they switched out for mine.

Crazily, they didn’t even take the CD-player. It looks like they might have tried to, because the faceplate was off (but still in the car) and the rim of the CD-player was halfway pried off. I’m not sure why they stopped trying to take it out, but I’m glad they did. It still works fine. My sunglasses and CDs were even still in the car… I guess they just really wanted the hood.

So anyway, our neighbor continued on her walk and the nice woman whose house we were in front of offered to let me wait for the police in her house. I actually really enjoyed meeting her and her little daughter, and she even ended up asking me if I could babysit sometime. It’s funny how things work out… I probably would have never met her if my vandalized car hadn’t been deposited on her doorstep.

The policeman finally showed up again. He dusted for fingerprints and determined that the thieves had been wearing gloves. He also extracted a shaved key that had broken off in the ignition—it was scary how much it looked like my key when we compared them. And I wonder if they left the car because the key broke off, or if they were always planning to abandon it once they got the hood. We’ll never know, but either way I have been extremely fortunate in this whole situation.

Here is my hood-less baby once we got it home:

Besides finding my car so quickly, we got some more good news. Our insurance policy will completely cover the cost of replacing the hood. All I have to do is make an appointment with a body shop. That, obviously, has taken a huge load off my shoulders. They’re even going to provide us with a rental car.

Something about this whole ordeal has really struck me. Although the people who thought it would be a good idea to grab my car, rip off its hood, and abandon it were acting really despicably, there are some really decent people who stepped out of the woodwork to help me in this situation. I am so grateful and indebted to my neighbor who took the time to find out why the police were at our house and thought to ask if the car she found was mine. Who knows how long it would have taken us to recover it otherwise. Also, the woman who let me wait in her house was so nice about everything that she made the situation as pleasant as it possibly could be. The police officer, too, was very friendly, and I’m so thankful he took the time to help us. I know that several of my friends also heard about the theft this morning before we had found the car, and I know they were worried about me and hoping it would turn up. Thank you guys for your support.

It’s really nice to know that there are so many people who are willing to pitch in and help you in a situation of need. Thank you everyone. And I’m so glad to have my baby back.

(Oh, and before anyone mentions it: yes, I will be purchasing a lock for my steering wheel.)

So, you may or may not have visited my HTML love-child, The Jade Sabre, but it has been lying dormant for more than three years. For those unaware, The Jade Sabre is about, as I so timelessly described it, “Mara Jade and all things Star Wars.” And it was the testing ground for my html skills for its first three years of existence. Now it’s pushing six, and doesn’t have much to show for it except dust… oh, and being the number two result on google for “Mara Jade.” (The first one is the official Star Wars site.)

But anyway, I still regularly get mail from the Jade Sabre; none of which I reply to, of course, because it is always from fans asking me crazy questions about Star Wars, the answers to which I might not have known even when I did remember all that stuff. But today I received a particularly helpless-sounding plea from a myserious soul named “Gweniveve.” She was succinct:

“Why haven’t you updated your site lately???”

Apparently she felt that her reprimand may have been too harsh, because two minutes later a revised message appeared in my inbox:

“Why haven’t you updated your site lately?? It is a great site though”

Thank you for the addend, Gweniveve. I appreciate it, and so does the Sabre. And, in answer to your question, I did update something on The Jade Sabre this very evening! I, ah… I updated the link on the homepage so it links correctly to my blog instead of to Lylium.com. Shameless, I know.

I just discovered that I have a population of tiny spiders living in my room.

I found three on my window, and two on webs inside my lampshade.

TINY.

FREAKING.

SPIDERS.

Somebody will pay for this.

(Just in case you don’t remember, read this.)