Well, I got sick of Turkish Summer. I called it Desperately Imperfect for a while because that's what it was, but now I'm done. This blog has moved to:
Deal with it.
apocryphal |əˈpäkrəfəl|
adjective
(of a story or statement) of doubtful authenticity, although widely circulated as being true : an apocryphal story about a former president. See note at spurious .
• (also Apocryphal) of or belonging to the Apocrypha : the Apocryphal Gospel of Thomas.
armistice |ˈärməstis|
noun
an agreement made by opposing sides in a war to stop fighting for a certain time; a truce.
ORIGIN early 18th cent.: from French, or from modern Latin armistitium, from arma ‘arms’ (see arm 2 ) + -stitium ‘stoppage.’
Türkçe Summer has moved to www.apocryphal-armistice.blogspot.com
Monday, October 18, 2010
Thursday, October 14, 2010
PSATs (I Got A Splinter From An Onion Yesterday...Isn't That Pathetic)
Okay, I'd written a full post and was about to, um, post it, but then something happened and, considering that not many of you are going to read this all the way through, I had to put it at the top. During lunch today, I and a couple other people made ice cream with the chem teacher. He poured a lot of milk, cream, sugar and half of one of those little bottles of vanilla into a big bowl, gave me a huge, thick pair of gloves and a wooden spoon, and told me to sit down. The madman (this is the same person I got my guinea fowl from) proceeded to open up a huge flask of liquid nitrogen - food grade, he assured us - and pour it in while I stirred. Even with the gloves, it was freezing and I couldn't see what was going on in the bowl for all the cold, white vapours billowing out. I felt as though I was brewing some ghastly potion. Anyway, after about three minutes of this we had some rather lumpy-looking, but very proper-tasting ice cream, which we proceeded to consume and distribute joyfully to the population of the hallway! Geekiest fun that I've had in a while. Okay, here's the original post:
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Sunday, wake up/Give me a...
...Cigarette/ Last night's love affair is looking vulnerable in my bed...
Marina and the Diamonds, people. Look 'em up. I spent far too much time listening to Guster last night, actually, and missing the guy who gave me the tracks and who now isn't replying to any of my emails. But on to merrier things, if only slightly:
My God, what an awful week that was. Everyone here was so unhappy at the end of Friday, and we went a little nuts with our free time. I'm sort of curious to see how they'll all behave today - Sunday is homework day, of course. I had an evil essay which I'm sure I did badly on, a chemistry test on which I got a 75 percent (though my chem grade is somehow up to an A- now) and there's another enormous project looming for English. It's the same way for everyone else. Worse. But I shook it off pretty well.
Friday afternoon I... oh, dear, I can't even remember what I did right after classes ended. This is worrisome. Anyway, Friday night I did some stargazing with some friends. We talked about black holes and comets and The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy like proper nerds, and the sky is so clear up here, we had the milky way all to ourselves. There were shooting stars, the grass was dry for some reason, and so we stayed out there until it was too cold for any more.
Oh, wait, before that I'd been watching Kill Bill: Vol. 2 with another friend, but he had to go and get his foot X-rayed half way through for reasons to do with the perils of organized sports, so we finished that last night. He made dinner, I did dessert (if you want people to love you, make them profiteroles with ice cream and chocolate ganache - half the dorm was ready to climb into my newly amazing double bed) and we need to finish another film today.
I also have to start writing an essay, do some chemistry coursework and a little maths today, but that'll happen - I'll fit it around a cappella, instrumental ensemble and callback auditions. Yeah, I made it into - oh, God, I haven't even told you people about that yet, have I? Well, there's a boy here who's directing The Importance Of Being Ernest (which you can read here if you haven't already) and auditions were yesterday. I picked a monologue of Eve's by Mark Twain - it was very drily funny, and it must have gone well because by evening he'd posted the callback list and I was on it. Being the only person in the school with a real British accent helps just a bit.
Marina and the Diamonds, people. Look 'em up. I spent far too much time listening to Guster last night, actually, and missing the guy who gave me the tracks and who now isn't replying to any of my emails. But on to merrier things, if only slightly:
My God, what an awful week that was. Everyone here was so unhappy at the end of Friday, and we went a little nuts with our free time. I'm sort of curious to see how they'll all behave today - Sunday is homework day, of course. I had an evil essay which I'm sure I did badly on, a chemistry test on which I got a 75 percent (though my chem grade is somehow up to an A- now) and there's another enormous project looming for English. It's the same way for everyone else. Worse. But I shook it off pretty well.
Friday afternoon I... oh, dear, I can't even remember what I did right after classes ended. This is worrisome. Anyway, Friday night I did some stargazing with some friends. We talked about black holes and comets and The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy like proper nerds, and the sky is so clear up here, we had the milky way all to ourselves. There were shooting stars, the grass was dry for some reason, and so we stayed out there until it was too cold for any more.
Oh, wait, before that I'd been watching Kill Bill: Vol. 2 with another friend, but he had to go and get his foot X-rayed half way through for reasons to do with the perils of organized sports, so we finished that last night. He made dinner, I did dessert (if you want people to love you, make them profiteroles with ice cream and chocolate ganache - half the dorm was ready to climb into my newly amazing double bed) and we need to finish another film today.
I also have to start writing an essay, do some chemistry coursework and a little maths today, but that'll happen - I'll fit it around a cappella, instrumental ensemble and callback auditions. Yeah, I made it into - oh, God, I haven't even told you people about that yet, have I? Well, there's a boy here who's directing The Importance Of Being Ernest (which you can read here if you haven't already) and auditions were yesterday. I picked a monologue of Eve's by Mark Twain - it was very drily funny, and it must have gone well because by evening he'd posted the callback list and I was on it. Being the only person in the school with a real British accent helps just a bit.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
I Should Be Doing Homework
I just realized that I never posted this. I took it weeks ago on the bus back from a weekend at home. There's another long weekend coming up in a couple weeks. I'm sitting on a wide, high-up windowsill in the dorm lounge right now, and waiting for structured study to start. I think I might have failed a chemistry test today, and I'm facing an evil essay whose only grace is its comparative shortness - it's still killing me. With all that in mind, I should probably take my leave now, lovely reader, much as it grieves me.
Hoş çakal.
Monday, October 4, 2010
What We Do Here
Yesterday, after getting up off my downstairs neighbors' rug - there was a Saturday-night sleepover. You should see my nails - and dragging myself to the cafeteria to make up for the dish duty I'd forgotten about the night before, I begged off a cappella with a sore throat that's still bothering me and went for a walk with the guy whose hair I dyed a few posts back. We took a couple pictures while roaming the grounds, and this is a celebratory post because I can now upload them. I was having to do it by email before, which meant limiting it to about three photos per post. Unacceptable. But the tech guys here are all-knowing and I can now do whatever the hell I like with photos, as well as access the iTunes store and finally watch Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. I have to keep this really short, because I have a chem test on Thursday and an English paper due Friday that I haven't even started, but here's what we did.
Oh, and my Maytag model asked me to do it again. He's dyed his hair since, and I haven't done much with these photos, but here they are anyway.
I'm also filling out my application for the NSLI-Y programme again. I don't think I could graduate from here if I did a year or semester in Turkey, so I'm going for a summer in Tajikistan. I need to know more middle-eastern languages.
Oh, and my Maytag model asked me to do it again. He's dyed his hair since, and I haven't done much with these photos, but here they are anyway.
Friday, October 1, 2010
A Post With No Clothes
I like clothes, people.
They're nice to pick out and throw together and talk about and think about, and fun to make statements with, and an easy way to confuse the hell out of people by changing them twice a day between classes (guilty). But do we honestly have to wear them All The Time? I am really goddamn sick of this whole keeping-on-your-clothes thing in the dorm. My wing is one straight, long corridor and my room is right at the end of it. The door to the upper lobby's usually open, and yes, I wrap myself in a towel and dash across the hall to get to the showers. Who's it going to hurt? So bloody what if someone sees me? It's a towel, people. I wear outfits that cover about half as much of me and nobody blinks. And if somebody with a penis happens to see somebody without one while they're basically wearing a floor-length dress, is it really apocalypse? At home I don't have to put up with this shit and I can make breakfast naked if I want. I'm not used to worrying about who might see me - I just don't care.
But one of the residential staff - that is to say, the teacher whose apartment is on our wing - just stopped me and said I have to be 'more conscious of how covered up I am'. Christ. I don't tend to show an indecent amount of skin in general - up here you can't, you'd freeze to death most of the year - but that doesn't seem to be the point. Nobody has a problem with shorts and tank tops around the lounge. We live here, after all, and casual dress is to be expected. It's not a big deal... who cares what the person sitting next to you is wearing? Maybe you can see shoulders and, may the good lord preserve us, a little cleavage! My god, how awful! No. Nobody acts that Victorian when it's about what people are wearing to schmooze. But when you're dashing from the shower room with wet hair and flipflops to your bedroom and are, in this shameful towel-wrapped state, exposed to the view of whomever should turn in your direction for a duration of perhaps ten seconds, you are an irresponsible, loose, slutty troublemaker. Why do we have to be so... closeted, I guess, about our bodies? There's no great secret about them. I don't mean to bitch, but, god, Americans. H-y-p-o-c-r-i-t-e-s. Your culture orders us to be as promiscuous as we can possibly contrive to be, but the moment anybody, especially a woman steps out of line with the rest, or fails to find anything to be ashamed of about her body, you become Puritanical prudes and slut-shun the hell out of her. I know I'm technically one of you, but I feel so much more European in this respect. Give it a break. These double standards can be damned. If I'm allowed to go out in a short skirt and camisole but can't be in a towel on the girls' wing, what else can they restrict? Only read controversial books in public where you can be supervised? Don't be a Jew where someone might see?
Okay, I know those are different. Those are 'real' issues, you might say, but this is the same principle - it's people being scared of anything they consider abnormal, of anybody having the guts not to be ashamed of what everybody else hides. Really, it's so unfair. It's ridiculous that I should even have to be writing this, and I know it's not the end of the world that I might have to throw on a bathrobe tomorrow morning. It's just stupid.
So I don't sound like a totally boring bitcher, and also so I can attach a relevant photo to this post that's not porn, I'll tell you what else I did today. This is the beginning of '80s weekend here, which meant dressing up for school today and a fantastic dance this evening. Tomorrow there's a movie marathon planned which includes Labyrinth, and while I'm sure you're shaking your head at this point because it's full of bad memories of half-hearted spirit weeks and theme days wherever you go/went to school, I can say that, if today is any indication, the people here - students and faculty - pull it off. There were some amazing costumes (everyone came to me for solid-coloured tights. That's right, I'm the legwear queen here. Remember what I said at the beginning of this one? I like clothes.) and a record player in the lounge was set up. I spent my free hour between tech and chem dancing to Thriller, King of Pain, Hip to be Square and Eye of the Tiger instead of studying for a quiz on solubility of ionic compounds. It was amazing fun. And there was more of it all at the dance tonight... and let it be known that I love, have always loved and will always love Wham!'s Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go. Anyway, I'm utterly exhausted from way too much dancing, after which there was a costume competition with 5 prizes. I won one of them, and I guess I could go ahead right now and do that thing fashion bloggers do where they break down their outfits and say what's from where:
-The shoes are, quite obviously, just converse. They were a present for getting into the Turkey program.
-Socks are Gap kid's. So I wear my little brother's clothing. What'ya gonna do about it?
-The tights were a birthday present. I don't know where they're from but I love them.
-The skirt was a Wet Seal impulse buy for a ridiculously tiny amount of money. Yes, I'm ashamed, but I'm not sorry. Thought I'd never wear it anywhere...
-The sweater's American Eagle, but was handed down to me from one of my mum's friends, and I think it might actually be a 1980s piece.
-You can't really see it, but the blue beads were a present from my teacher in Turkey. She gave us all a little something and knew I was into retro jewelery. Miss her so much.
My prize was this Smurf shirt. It's my new favourite oversized tee.
That's all for now. Night, everyone!
They're nice to pick out and throw together and talk about and think about, and fun to make statements with, and an easy way to confuse the hell out of people by changing them twice a day between classes (guilty). But do we honestly have to wear them All The Time? I am really goddamn sick of this whole keeping-on-your-clothes thing in the dorm. My wing is one straight, long corridor and my room is right at the end of it. The door to the upper lobby's usually open, and yes, I wrap myself in a towel and dash across the hall to get to the showers. Who's it going to hurt? So bloody what if someone sees me? It's a towel, people. I wear outfits that cover about half as much of me and nobody blinks. And if somebody with a penis happens to see somebody without one while they're basically wearing a floor-length dress, is it really apocalypse? At home I don't have to put up with this shit and I can make breakfast naked if I want. I'm not used to worrying about who might see me - I just don't care.
But one of the residential staff - that is to say, the teacher whose apartment is on our wing - just stopped me and said I have to be 'more conscious of how covered up I am'. Christ. I don't tend to show an indecent amount of skin in general - up here you can't, you'd freeze to death most of the year - but that doesn't seem to be the point. Nobody has a problem with shorts and tank tops around the lounge. We live here, after all, and casual dress is to be expected. It's not a big deal... who cares what the person sitting next to you is wearing? Maybe you can see shoulders and, may the good lord preserve us, a little cleavage! My god, how awful! No. Nobody acts that Victorian when it's about what people are wearing to schmooze. But when you're dashing from the shower room with wet hair and flipflops to your bedroom and are, in this shameful towel-wrapped state, exposed to the view of whomever should turn in your direction for a duration of perhaps ten seconds, you are an irresponsible, loose, slutty troublemaker. Why do we have to be so... closeted, I guess, about our bodies? There's no great secret about them. I don't mean to bitch, but, god, Americans. H-y-p-o-c-r-i-t-e-s. Your culture orders us to be as promiscuous as we can possibly contrive to be, but the moment anybody, especially a woman steps out of line with the rest, or fails to find anything to be ashamed of about her body, you become Puritanical prudes and slut-shun the hell out of her. I know I'm technically one of you, but I feel so much more European in this respect. Give it a break. These double standards can be damned. If I'm allowed to go out in a short skirt and camisole but can't be in a towel on the girls' wing, what else can they restrict? Only read controversial books in public where you can be supervised? Don't be a Jew where someone might see?
Okay, I know those are different. Those are 'real' issues, you might say, but this is the same principle - it's people being scared of anything they consider abnormal, of anybody having the guts not to be ashamed of what everybody else hides. Really, it's so unfair. It's ridiculous that I should even have to be writing this, and I know it's not the end of the world that I might have to throw on a bathrobe tomorrow morning. It's just stupid.
So I don't sound like a totally boring bitcher, and also so I can attach a relevant photo to this post that's not porn, I'll tell you what else I did today. This is the beginning of '80s weekend here, which meant dressing up for school today and a fantastic dance this evening. Tomorrow there's a movie marathon planned which includes Labyrinth, and while I'm sure you're shaking your head at this point because it's full of bad memories of half-hearted spirit weeks and theme days wherever you go/went to school, I can say that, if today is any indication, the people here - students and faculty - pull it off. There were some amazing costumes (everyone came to me for solid-coloured tights. That's right, I'm the legwear queen here. Remember what I said at the beginning of this one? I like clothes.) and a record player in the lounge was set up. I spent my free hour between tech and chem dancing to Thriller, King of Pain, Hip to be Square and Eye of the Tiger instead of studying for a quiz on solubility of ionic compounds. It was amazing fun. And there was more of it all at the dance tonight... and let it be known that I love, have always loved and will always love Wham!'s Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go. Anyway, I'm utterly exhausted from way too much dancing, after which there was a costume competition with 5 prizes. I won one of them, and I guess I could go ahead right now and do that thing fashion bloggers do where they break down their outfits and say what's from where:
-The shoes are, quite obviously, just converse. They were a present for getting into the Turkey program.
-Socks are Gap kid's. So I wear my little brother's clothing. What'ya gonna do about it?
-The tights were a birthday present. I don't know where they're from but I love them.
-The skirt was a Wet Seal impulse buy for a ridiculously tiny amount of money. Yes, I'm ashamed, but I'm not sorry. Thought I'd never wear it anywhere...
-The sweater's American Eagle, but was handed down to me from one of my mum's friends, and I think it might actually be a 1980s piece.
-You can't really see it, but the blue beads were a present from my teacher in Turkey. She gave us all a little something and knew I was into retro jewelery. Miss her so much.
My prize was this Smurf shirt. It's my new favourite oversized tee.
That's all for now. Night, everyone!
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