Post Scripts and Duct Tape

I haven’t been writing. I had this neat idea that the elephant post was going to be the first in a long series of short daily entries about silly things.

My bad.

I haven’t neglected my blog solely in favor of lazing around, I have also legitimately been busy at university. I’ve been learning about gifts causa mortis, product costs, group polarisation, and other impressive-sounding technical terms. I have managed to write a few things in my journal over the last week, but none of them are substantial enough to get their own entry so I’ll just post them all as one. It’s like a diary of my week, but in the form of thoughts instead of events.

As a person who has worn glasses nearly every day of her life for nearly seven years(and a year or two of my earlier childhood), I cannot come up with the words to describe how amazing it is to use eyeglass cleaning spray and cloths. I am quite accustomed to my world shifting from unclear to clear in as much time as it takes me to glance too far up, but that is nothing compared to the magical power of an eyeglass cleaning kit. Sometimes I forget that the world has this much detail.

In watching uncommonly large amounts of British media this summer, I concluded that the majority of the variation in English accents comes through each individual’s pronunciations of the letter “r” and vowels. And I mean accents used by English speaking people, not just accents used by English people.

It’s PPS, not PSS. “Post script script” is not meaningful in the slightest. People should learn what abbreviations stand for before they start adding letters all willy-nilly.

My life motto seems to be “ulterior motives.”That doesn’t make me a Slytherin, just an especially vicious Ravenclaw.

Sometimes I’m bothered by the way the internet uses my searches and visited websites to show me “relevant” ads. My goodness, can’t a girl casually browse the Tiffany website one evening without being bombarded by wedding ring ads forevermore?

My mother’s first reaction to a pair of sandals I purchased this summer was not about their stylishness, but about the lack of treading on the bottoms. I completely ignored her safety concerns. Last week, I stepped into a puddle of someone’s spilled drink.  I took one of the most comically fantastic falls of my life, landing flat on my back with a drink-soaked shirt and a quickly blossoming knot where my head bounced off the hardwood floor. You’ll never guess what shoes I was wearing. Sorry, Mom.

I know it is technically correct, but “duck” tape just looks wrong to me.

I am okay with the fact that The Doctor’s machine is called a TARDIS, but the phrase that makes up the acronym seems incomplete. “Time and relative dimension(s) in space” is not the name of a machine. It’s a description of the elements in the universe with which the machine most often interacts. It’s like calling a mug a “tea and fluids of similar viscosity.” TAFOSV? Yeah, no.

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About Katherine

Ravenclaw, INTJ, and a bit whiney.
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