What House are You in?

Posted that on Tumblr then realized the grammar fail. I apologize:

In What House are You?

(Phew, all better now)

So, when people ask me what house I’m in, my answer is, “Griffinclaw”—because I haven’t been sorted on Pottermore and other house quizzes are often inconclusive, and because I’m REALLY indecisive. I mean, I’m a bit of an intellectual elitist, but I’m quite loyal, and at least as brave as Neville. So, when people ask me my house, I say, “Griffinclaw,” and that’s generally accepted (at least begrudgingly). But it occurred to me today: what if my house was, “Slythindor”? That just wouldn’t be acceptable, right? …I’m pretty sure the Ministry of Magic would obliviate my memory and send me to Pigfarts.

Economizing your Matchbook

On Thursday I decorated a mason jar to serve as a candle holder. I really like it and I'd really like to use it, but we're not supposed to light candles in the dorms, and I don't have a lighter.

Now, my birthday was a few weeks ago, so while my parents were visiting we got a cake and covered it with candles and had a little party in my dorm. Since we've got a ton of candles at home, my mom left the birthday candles and the book of matches in my possession, on the off chance I might need either while at college.

Perfect, right? I was just jones-ing for some candle-light, and now I've got matches, so I'm all set, yeah?

Not so much.

In the past week for my expository writing class, I read The Time Machine, by H.G. Wells. Personally, I find the Time Traveller in this story to be an idiot, for many reasons, but specifically for his usage of matches. Upon realizing that they amuse the cute futuristic species and scare the frightful futuristic species, he burns through them faster than a spark on a line of gunpowder. He has no thought for whether he may or may not need them, and wastes them all. When he happens to stumble upon another matchbook, he proceeds to accidentally burn down a forest with them.

Thus I'm perplexed--I mean, I can't just go lighting matches 'cause a little candlelight is pretty. What if I need them for some abstract use somewhere in the future? I've only got eighteen matches. I've got to economize my matchbook.

College Photography and Politics

I realize I've neglected this blog since I've started college, but now I've got something to write about.

This is a post about the failure of first impressions, cool stuff, and politics.

My first year photography seminar had me reading from a book called Blink, by Malcolm Gladwell, about the importance of a physical first impression: the snap judgement you make about a person when you lay eyes on them for the first time. The book offered the example of not believing that a hefty athlete was actually a hardcore intellectual. However, this psychologist named Samuel Gosling did a study concerning personality traits, and compared what people said about themselves with what their friends said, and what complete strangers who got to look at their dorm rooms for fifteen minutes said. His results showed that glimpsing a dorm room was the most informative. You can know a person for a really long time and know them really well, but if you see where they live, without them in it, you can make more accurate conclusions about their personality.

Similarly, another example to support an honest snap judgement made without witnessing the actual person in question focused on screened auditions for orchestras. Before a curtain was placed between those judging the auditions and the musicians trying out, very few women were in professional orchestras (we're talking late 20th century here). Once the visual presence of the musician was removed, and all the panel could observe was the music being played, those listening could isolate the one thing that mattered about the audition: the music. Instead of seeing a dented instrument, a cheap model, a nervous shuffle to the stand, an odd embouchure, they'd hear how well the piece was played and judge solely on the sound. Such a change in the audition process introduced many more women into professional orchestras, because conductors and the like assumed that women could not possibly play better than men. They were proved wrong.

(All of that is my little summary of the reading I was assigned from Blink, by Malcolm Gladwell: I encourage you to read it.)

Now, Gladwell came up with some fascinating stuff, but how does that tie into politics, you ask? Immediately after reading and writing a brief reflection on it, I went on Facebook to see that the page, "Miss Representation" (for the documentary on women's social presentation: check it out) had posted an article from the Washington Post on the attack of Michele Bachmann's manicure. I won't start on that issue per se, but rather tell you the thought that stemmed from it:

It occurred to me that with women working their way into politics and up to the white house--or one party or another trying to play a uniqueness card that could counter Barrack Obama's--we fall back on stereotype to judge them. We don't worry about Obama having a midlife crisis amid the debt crisis and running off with some vivacious young blonde, but our society is legitimately concerned that a female president might have a mood swing and destroy a relationship with another country, or ruin the state of the union by entering menopause early from the accelerated aging that comes with being president.

If I were Michele Bachmann I'd say, "I know that in this job I'll chip more than just a nail or two, so I want to make sure I've got enough nail to chip." (Though as a girl I'm not a fan of her nails. Just sayin'.)

However, I'm digressing a little bit. Even with the snap judgements made about having a Y or second X chromosome, it occurred to me to have a blind debate. Let the candidates sit in their pajamas or a suit, hair gelled back or bed-headed, and talk through just a microphone, sitting in a booth backstage, so no one can be distracted by their snaggletooth or eye bags or manicure while they're discussing something as important as the future of our country.

I realize this is unrealistic and a really strange approach, and there's most likely a better way to do this, but my point is: what would elections be like if we didn't see our presidential candidates initially? If we heard their positions before we saw them? Let's focus on the competence of our president before his or her closet.



wheeeee citation (because I didn't read the entire book before writing this post, and if you actually want to read the part i'm talking about, you'd want to know page numbers): 
Malcolm Gladwell, “Listening with Your Eyes,” Blink, (New York: Back Bay Books, 2007) pp. 245-254

Etsy Opening: Get Ready. Get Pumped. Get Taped.

I have now opened my shop on Etsy, Adherently Awesome. Here you can purchase the wallets or other duct tape creations I've made, order a custom wallet, or suggest custom duct tape pieces. If you have any questions, you can contact me at AdherentlyAwesome@gmail.com.
Please enjoy the tape!

Also, if you like my poor cartooning, check out the "Too Literal" page for more puns :)

My Love/Hate Relationship with Hyperbole

So. I hate hyperbole. Sure, it's beautiful and adeptly describes situations that are comedic, poetic, or frustratic (Yeah, I made up a word for the sake of parallel structure, so sue me. -- please don't). But-- it's terribly inaccurate and tears apart the severity of situations, turning life into an over-dramatized performance. "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players" (huzzah for Shakespeare). 

I do love hyperbole. Nothing makes me happier than throwing out the most absurd analogy to depict a preposterous position, a tangle of diction to distill discomfort and disconcertion (More word-crafting. Deal with it). I'll tell you with the utmost certainty that the contact juggling I witnessed today was the coolest thing I've ever seen. I mean-- it was freaking awesome. (But was it really the coolest thing I've ever seen? Well, I've never seen a guy literally lit on fire (before today), but I doubt it really was the coolest thing I've ever seen).

But still, hyperbole kills the very impact of words. Because we use such extreme terms to describe mundane--or at least much less intense--events/situations, we force our language and diction to shape more emphatic ways to express ideas that are slightly more awesome/depressing/scary/strange than the ones for which we already used hyperbole (Or we re-use hyperbolic statements and equate situations with unequal quantities of severity). By using extra-emphatic diction to describe less-emphatic scenarios, we degrade the very meanings and connotations of the words we use.

The Degree of Scandal.

It occurred to me that in Aldous Huxley's Brave New World, there is the concept that "everyone belongs to everyone," which is just a euphematic way of describing socially encouraged sexual promiscuity. (I don't judge.) However, the promiscuity is limited in the society Huxley created by male-female couplings. Women are expected to have fleeting relationships with as many men as they wish, and men with many women (though not at the same time). There is no discussion of promiscuity outside the bounds of male-female relationships.

Granted, Brave New World was written in the early '30s, so the idea of promiscuity in general was probably less scandalous than the idea of homosexuality or any non-M/F-sexuality (However, I cannot be sure, I'm not from the '30s). That though, the different degrees of scandalousness, is absolutely fascinating. The idea that one idea is taboo, but another is double taboo. Like, for example, swear words that have different levels of gasps attached to them if used in front of parents, or certain audiences. A child says shit-(aki mushrooms) and parents' eyes get wide and they direct the youth toward the preferable "shoot,"-- but a child drops an F bomb and parental units tweak as if miniature grenades just burned the soles of their shoes, and proceed to take away privileges as if they were candy. Why is there that distinction?

It makes sense though, due to the cliche which discusses the many shades of gray in life. It's the difference between belching and mooning someone at a black tie event. Society is just wonky.

Belated disclaimer: I have not read Brave New World in a year, as it was summer reading for AP English, so my recollections are probably hazy.

A Word I Realized I Didn't Know, Starting with the Letter "A"

I've spent a lot more time on YouTube in the recent months, and thus have heard a lot more talking than usual (I've been plowing through vlog videos, not music videos, ergo the extensive words flowing toward my ears). In doing so, I've come to realize there was one particular word that I had seen a lot but never known really what it meant or how to use it. The word, you ask? "Albeit." Now, if you've read the word, you have probably read it to yourself with the proper pronunciation. However, whenever I read "albeit" to myself, it would be spoken in my head as if it were, "ALL-BAIT."

So yeah, I've always pronounced albeit as "all-bate" (my fail-phoenetic spelling isn't critical). Therefore, when I heard one vlogger say something sounding like, "All bee it," on more than one occasion, used similarly to what I read as, "ALL BAYT" (yeah there's gonna be a different phoenetic spelling every time I say it), I thought, "HM, that's probably the same word... WOW CATIE, you're foolish."

So I did what any child of the interwebulous generation would do, and Dictionary.com-ed it, realizing that I already had a general sense of the definition of "albeit" and thus I shall be able to read it and understand it as it is being used.

However, I also realized that, when reading it, even from now on, I will probably still read it pronouncing it in my head as, "Awl-Baet."

Apparent Automotive Incompetence: Another Rant (Yes, I Need To Stop Being an Angsty Teen. I'm Sorry)

It really disgusts me how much of a bad reputation teenage drivers have. Yes, we are the least experienced, but we are the most aware. Driving schools force gruesome images down students' throats and make them fear getting into accidents. Most teens could probably name someone who has been in an accident, and are ever reminded of how easy it is to get in an accident and how scary it is, but we have just been taught that it's really easy to not be in an accident if you follow the rules and pay attention. In spite of being newer, the knowledge is fresh in our minds, and the standards are going up--at least, they have in Massachusetts.

Meanwhile, the adult drivers who glance at us with tired dislike are often better drivers, but they also are likely to have acquired bad habits in their years of experience and may drive slightly more assertively (aggressively) as a norm. A friend of mine was in an accident in which the other driver, an adult, crossed the yellow line, and he got pinned with the surcharge on his car insurance (the appeal is coming up) because those recording the accident assumed it was his fault due to his age. What bull is that?

Today I was pulling out of a parking space, looking out my side mirror and over my shoulder non-stop. One black SUV drove by the back of my little green four-door while I was backing up, and I saw another, smaller car pulling into the parking lot. From the path of the car it seemed indubitable that this car, I shall name him Herbert, was not going to hit me. I pulled out with a sharper curve, so that I would end up perpendicular to the row of cars, in my 'lane,' if you will, and completely out of Herbert's way. When 75% out of my spot, Herbert honked at me, and I glanced back to see nothing wrong, except Herbert continuing on his path by me, with his driver giving me a brief glare. I realize that I am a teenager and thus stereotypically appear incompetent when it comes to driving, but there was no chance that I was going to hit Herbert unless I really wanted to, though I don't particularly fancy automotive accidents and repair costs.

ALSO, the law was just passed in Massachusetts to make it so that anyone under the age of 18 cannot so much as hold a cell phone while driving. Undoubtedly there will be a few idiots who do it anyway, but I won't speak for the outliers. It's the majority, who follow the law, and will thus be less distracted than the adults who are allowed to use cell phones for phone calls while driving. No one is permitted to text anymore, but adults, those drivers who are 18 or older, can make phone calls. One hand one the phone, dialing, putting it up to an ear, the other hand on the wheel, eyes flitting downward to ensure that the right contact is selected.

How can anyone maintain the stereotype that all teens are automotively incompetent when the laws regarding our driving habits are more strict? Most teens do not want to break the law, and they follow it. I've heard of under-eighteen drivers having someone else answer their phone, and responding to texts. We're not as incompetent as we're made out to be. Please be aware, but not any more wary of us than other drivers. Every driver has the potential to be distracted, careless, or idiotic.

Political Drama: A Rant

I'm sorry, but basically the main reason why I was looking forward to leaving high school was that I would get to leave the petty drama behind. However, I had not paid much attention to our political system and such, so I was sorely mistaken that I could avoid drama queens and misplaced blame.

Today while listening to NPR, I heard one politician assert that raising the deficit ceiling is the President's responsibility, that it's "his problem." (This politician shall remain nameless for the purpose of this post)

I'm sorry, but-- his problem? That very phrasing might as well have come out of the mouth of a sophomore girl in a particularly bitchy mood (pardon the swear usage, it was the only way to concisely and accurately convey the sentiment, sans this lengthy disclaimer). I though we would have learned this lesson a long time ago-- the one about not placing blame and just stepping up and getting the job done-- haven't we?

With that kind of talk, it's as if everyone spilled a little nail polish on the floor of the Oval Office, and we're saying, "Hey, it's Obama's house, he's gotta clean it up." No. I hate to pull the "This nation was founded on the principals of blah, blah, and blah," but I'm doing it.

This country was created because we didn't want one person to decide everything. Yes, figuring out how to solve our budget issues is one thing, not everything, but still, we have fifty separate but united states with representatives specifically for the purpose of working together to come to consensuses about issues important to everyone. I'm pretty sure having money as a nation is important to everyone.

We all learned in high school English classes that by pinning all the brainstorming responsibilities on one person and relying on them to do the work often results in something you don't believe (At least, I'm enough of a nerd to say to myself, "I do not agree with this interpretation" mid-presentation). By senior year we figure out how to at least start to discuss differing ideas with our peers and produce a mutually acceptable concept or at least agree that both viewpoints are valid. Good to know that adults have thrown that all away, I'm really looking forward to the "real world."

Also-- sports. If the defense on a football team (yeah America, say it with me-- football, but not our fake football) says that it's all up to the forwards to win the game, then the team will loose every time. I can guarantee it (unless you're playing a REALLY bad team, or your forwards are REALLY good). However, I'm thinking that Obama isn't quite superhuman, so he can't be expected to take care of everything. It's most certainly not his problem. It's all of ours. It's our country, and we all have to live in it, unless we want to live somewhere where health care makes sense (~cough~ CANADA ~cough~) oops, did that just happen? Yeah it did, I said it.

Personally I think our time, our teenagers time, and our politicians time is better spent not naming names, and it's better spent working together and really trying to figure out what will make our country function, and not just delay the bitter aftertaste.

No one likes a tattle-tale.

Time to Spice it Up: A Harry Potter Nit-Picking Interlude

Okay, so this blog was started with the idea to promote my duct tape sales, but from now on I'll run off on tangents, starting right now, with a little rant about J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter.

Specifically, I find movies' usage of wands troubling. Each of the wands used in the movie seems to reflect the character by whom the wand is used. While that is fine and dandy for adding subliminal, visual characterization connotations for each witch and wizard, it breaks all the rules about wands laid down by the way magic work in the wizarding world. "The wand chooses the wizard," as Ollivander and Dumbledore always say, and thus the crafter of the wand cannot possibly carve the wand into a likeness of its future holder. Why would Ollivander carve a wand with vines and flowers on it, when the wand could choose a more aggressive, less nature-loving wielder?

My main problem with the wands is the wand of Lord Voldemort. It's off-white, and resembles a bone. However, Voldemort's wand, until he procures the Elder Wand, is the wand with a core the same as Harry's. Voldemort's wand with a twin core is the same one that he procured as the eleven-year-old Tom Riddle, a boy who was far from becoming the most evil wizard of all time. An eleven-year-old boy would not have been handed a bone wand to try out at the wand-maker's shop, unless it's a shop outside "The Evil Baby Orphanage" (John and Hank Green Nerdfighter Reference... if you don't get it, I encourage you to do the research via YouTube and Google. Look now, you can finish reading later).

The characterizing aspects of a wand are the core, the wood, and the length. Adding decor to it is nice to look at, and it probably does help those who have not read the books understand a bit more about the character, but it just doesn't make sense if you understand how wand dispension (I'm pretending it's a word.) works.

Buona Notte.

Show (-Off) and Tell

I'm really pumped to post this, because it is the reason why I started this whole, blog extravaganza!

Okay, let's be honest: it's a blog, not so much an extravaganza.

But, I would like to show you (again, let's be honest, show off) my most recent wallet. A good friend placed an order for a large wallet with made of shiny silver and plaid duct tape. I hadn't thought of that color combo, but it turned out quite well. Thus, this is what you can expect from any of the "large" wallets I make. Each wallet is 4" x 8", with a cloth-lined pocket for cash, seven cloth-lined pockets for credit cards or whatnot, and a slot to put an ID.

I'm Lame: "My First Post"

Hi there, oh marvelous audience consisting of no one!

I am Catie, but you can call me Gribbs--or Catie-- whichever floats your flotation device.  But I'm pretty sure your flotation device gets adrift by means of the sort of blowy, "wshouhhhh," I'm-blowing-up-floaties sound, so maybe just stick with Catie or Gribbs.

So I was an insecure nerd and read some search-engined searches on what to post as a first blog post. The interwebs told me to state my purpose or what to expect from my blog, so here we are:
 My intent in starting this blog is get some publicity for the duct tape wallets I sell, and the other products I make from Duct Tape and other craftsy things I do, while babbling on about my perspectives on life and such.

I've been thinking for a while now that it would be a really good idea to start a blog--that somehow I would benefit greatly from having my own blog--I mean, its shoving streams of my own words into the interwebs, how cool! But I never thought about what I was going to write.

"I'm gonna make a blog! I'm gonna make a blog! I'm gonna-- blabber on in the most dull bit of babble anyone has ever read".... So I applaud you if you've proceeded thus far. I invite you to comment and give me feedback on what I post here.

The composition of this post in a very out-of-order fashion because I realized I should give you a reason to read again another day when I'm not so cyberspacially green. I realize this mini-paragraph is rather non sequitur, but I think it emphasizes the lack of organization that reigned the writing of this post... and I really wanted to keep the phrase, "cyberspacially green."

Carpete diem.