I’ve mentioned before that I don’t like TV news. So until today, I’d never heard of Mika Brzezinski. Well, if everyone on TV news was like her, that might convince me to start watching.[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3T34hzHJG2c]
WARNING: Read no further if you haven’t yet read Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.
Only two weeks to go. (And no, although I can’t wait, I’m not counting down the days like bookstores and libraries are—I had to look that up to be sure. Really.) It’s time to talk about Harry Potter.
I just re-read all six books in order so that they’re fresh in my mind. There are a lot of random things I didn’t notice when I read them initially. One good example: in Book 5, after Ginny tells him that she’s broken up with Michael but before she tells him she’s now seeing Dean, Ron casts Harry “an oddly furtive look” as he tells Ginny to choose someone better next time. So all of Harry’s worrying throughout Book 6 was unnecessary, because it looks like Ron actually did want Harry and Ginny together!
But enough with the romantic stuff. Here are some other thoughts I have upon re-reading all the books, and some speculation I have for the final one:
Snape
After re-reading Book 6, I’m really not sure what to think about him. If he is a double agent, I’m not sure what side he’s on. But maybe he’s on neither side and was just in it for himself the whole time.
One thing did jump out at me, though. I’d forgotten that the Unbreakable Vow he made with Narcissa Malfoy wasn’t just that he would protect Draco—it was also that he’d fulfill Draco’s mission (to kill Dumbledore) if Draco couldn’t. So if Snape didn’t kill Dumbledore, he would have died.
And that’s interesting. Maybe it wasn’t as much a matter of killing Dumbledore as it was staying alive himself. I’m also torn on whether or not Dumbledore knew that Snape would kill him, or if Snape killing him was part of a plan. Dumbledore did ask to see Snape, after all, and when he was talking to Draco before Snape showed up, he was definitely stalling. His last words, “Severus…please…” could be him asking Snape to kill him. But the book does say that Snape, before he kills Dumbledore, has “revulsion and hatred etched in the lines of his face.”
So I really don’t know. I do think, though, that Snape was probably in love with Lily, even if he did call her a Mudblood in that flashback. It would explain why he hated James so much, and since Lily stuck up for him, it would make sense. But if Snape is capable of love, that means he can’t be completely evil, right?
My head hurts thinking about it. Congratulations, J.K. Rowling, you got me thinking.
Look of Triumph
One of the weirdest moments in the whole series. It’s in Book 4, when Harry is explaining to Dumbledore what happened when Voldemort return. After Harry explains that Voldemort now has Harry’s blood and the protection his mother left him, he thinks he sees a “look of triumph” in Dumbledore’s face, then thinks he must have imagined it.
At first I wondered if Dumbledore was evil, but now, after reading books 5 and 6, I don’t think that would make any sense. I mean, it wouldn’t even be a cool twist—it just wouldn’t make sense. So my best guess is that Voldemort having Harry’s blood will somehow aid in his downfall. Dumbledore probably knew something that he never told Harry.
House elves
This is one plotline I never quite got. Logically, it seems like the house elves should all be freed, or at least paid for their work, but I feel like at this point, wrapping that storyline up would take half the book. There are so many issues complicating the matter—house elves like Kreacher who are loyal to Death Eaters, house elves like Winky who don’t want to be free. Also, while Hermione is all righteously indignant about elf rights, most other people are ambivalent on the issue at best. Harry even used Kreacher and Winky to tail Draco in Book 6. So I’m really not sure where this plotline is going.
Behind the veil
I took a class in college on young adult and adolescent literature that discussed the books we read, including Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, as they pertained to the hero archetype, and one part of that is the hero visiting the land of the dead. So I definitely think we’ll get a glimpse behind the veil, and that Lily, James, Sirius, and Dumbledore will all appear in some form.
Then, of course, there’s the matter of who dies. I had to read what J.K. Rowling has said about the matter. What she said, I think (I’m too lazy to look for the actual quote) was that the last chapter will reveal the fates of the surviving characters, that one character got a reprieve, and that two characters died whom she didn’t intend to die.
That probably means that more characters die that she did intend to die—I’m pretty sure she didn’t decide to kill Voldemort randomly. So who survives?
The Death Pool
–Ginny. I think Ginny is more likely to live than anyone else. I just think it would be too cruel if Harry broke off the relationship to protect her and then she died anyway.
–Ron or Hermione. I don’t know. I just don’t see it happening. Just a gut feeling. If one of them is going to die, though, I’d say Ron is more vulnerable.
–Harry. There’s so much speculation about whether Harry is going to die, but I don’t think he will. I just…don’t think it would fit with the tone of the books. It is true that the books keep getting darker, but they still maintain this hopeful quality. One word I’ve never used to describe HP is depressing. And Harry dying, even if he died heroically, would be depressing. Unless it’s just in the epilogue and he dies of old age or something.
–Draco. I think he’s a very real possibility. Now we know that he’s not completely evil, so of course that’s just asking to be killed by Voldemort or a Death Eater. However, I can also see him being the character who gets the reprieve—maybe his not being evil is what enables him to live.
–Snape. Another very real possibility. Whether his death will be a good or a bad thing is yet to be determined.
–Neville. I can completely see Neville dying. In Book 5 he got to be part of the showdown at the Ministry, and I want him to have an even greater heroic moment in the last book. And I think the fact that the prophesy could also have meant him implies that he has the potential for greatness. On the other hand, it would be pretty tragic if he died just as he was reaching his potential.
–One of the Weasleys. I hope the Weasley parents survive, but if one of them dies, I think Arthur is more vulnerable, just because Molly is really the only maternal figure in the books.
–McGonagall. Why McGonagall? Why not McGonagall? Actually, I think she might have a bigger role in Book 7 since Dumbledore’s dead now, but I can also see her dying heroically.
–Hagrid. Hagrid might die, but I kind of don’t think so. He was the first wizard Harry met, so I think he needs to be there at the end, to have the story come full circle.
–Trelawney. I keep thinking of Friends, when Phoebe’s psychic tells her she’s going to die, but then the psychic dies. So maybe it’s the same thing—maybe all this time when Trelawney’s been predicting Harry’s death, she’s been messing up and actually seeing her own death!
Just kidding about that last one.
But know this: I do not exist on July 21st. Don’t call me or ask me to do anything until I’m done with the book. I think I’ve made myself pretty clear.
A few weeks ago, I was out for a run. As I ran by a field, I happened to encounter one of my worst fears. It scared me so much that I immediately crossed the street to continue running, and even then, I couldn’t stop looking back to make sure I was really safe.
My friends are all afraid of normal things. Snakes. Spiders. Scary movies. The dark. But snakes don’t bother me at all. I kill spiders for my roommate. I can honestly say I have never been truly frightened by a movie—even The Exorcist wasn’t as scary as I expected. And I kind of like the dark.
But my friends probably couldn’t encounter anything while out running that would scare them that much unless it was a potential murderer or a vicious dog—neither of which caused me to cross the street while I was out running that day.
I’m afraid of geese.
Yes, geese. You’re probably laughing now. Most people do when I tell them that. But there’s actually a good reason for it. When I was growing up, my across-the-street neighbors, in addition to a horse, a donkey, chickens, and goats, had geese. And these geese, who had a penchant for making their way up the driveway and taking a stroll down the street, would sometimes chase after people. Apparently, this scarred me for life.
Nothing I can do can help me get over it, either. No matter how many times I tell myself that geese can’t hurt me, I can’t seem to comprehend it. One day when I was walking by the Charles with my friend Nicole, alongside some Canadian geese, she told me to say, “Riddikulus!” (the spell to combat the boggart in the Harry Potter books). That made me laugh, but didn’t really make me less afraid.
And geese are surprisingly hard to avoid. They congregate in fields, by the river—basically wherever there’s enough room and not too many people. Unfortunately, that includes many places where I like to run.
Fear isn’t unusual for me. I am a nervous person by nature. I worry, I over-think, I sometimes make myself sick. It’s a terrible habit, and one I’m trying to work on.
And I’ve actually managed to get over some more rational but also more debilitating fears. For a long time, I was scared of certain driving situations. In C-Town, I did everything I could to avoid going through two areas that were infamous for the accidents constantly occurring there. I also avoided driving long distances. Switching lanes on the highway freaked me out. All through high school, if the swim team was going somewhere far away, I let someone else drive because I wasn’t comfortable.
I was almost twenty-one when I finally decided that I needed to get over my driving fears. Two of my best friends were staying in Boston for the summer. I was at home, forty-five minutes away, and I couldn’t see them because I was too scared to drive. So one day, I got in the car, took a deep breath, and got onto the highway. After doing this a few more times, for increasingly longer distances, I was ready to drive to Boston.
I also used to hate answering the phone. At home growing up, I always let the answering machine get it. At internships I had, I would avoid answering the phone if I possibly could. It just made me nervous, having to be responsible for giving people answers or leaving accurate messages.
Then I had a job at The Publishing Company where I was the first point of contact for the sales reps. If they had a question about anything, they had to call me first. This kind of freaked me out at first. I just wanted to yell, I don’t know what I’m doing! You can’t ask me these things!
But then I got used to it—and I realized I did know what I was doing. I actually could answer all those questions. It was a good feeling.
So I guess there’s hope for me. I’ve picked up the worrying habit that runs in my family, but maybe I really can get over it eventually.
But I’m still afraid of geese. That, I have no idea how to get over. Let me know if you have any ideas.
One year ago today, I graduated from Boston College. Condoleezza Rice was our speaker, which not only caused a lot of protest but led to increased security, so it took literally hours to get everyone into the stadium. I’d been up all night at Senior Sunrise on the parking garage roof, so I kept nodding off during the ceremony. Later, I kept falling asleep and waking up crying.
It didn’t feel like a celebration. It just felt an end. Granted, at the time I didn’t have a job, but I didn’t see graduation as a time to go out into the world and discover new possibilities. I could only see it as everything I’d loved about my life for the last four years disappearing. I was losing my friends who were moving away. I was losing a lot of free time. I was losing Chorale and Liturgy Arts Group and The Heights, and parties and campus events and dining hall food (which I did actually like). And believe it or not, I was mourning the loss of classes. I really loved most of the classes I took at BC, and I was going to miss them as much as anything.
Now, after being out of school for a year and working full-time for most of that year…honestly? My opinion hasn’t changed much. My sister is still at BC. Right now I live within feet of BC with Christina, who was my college roommate for two years. We live here mostly out of convenience, but it’s also been nice because it can kind of lull me into believing that I’m still in college.
I do love my job, and I’ve met some great people and made some wonderful friends there. But one reason I enjoy my lunch breaks at work so much is that it’s an hour a day I can spend with my fellow broke twenty-somethings—an hour a day I can stop pretending to be a grown-up. I still have an easier time relating to college students than to those in the working world. I can’t relate to anyone over the age of about 30 at all. Or at least to anyone who has his or her life together—has good money, owns a house, happily married, etc. I just feel like I have nothing to talk about with those people.
College ending kind of threw some relationships off-kilter. With friends who’ve moved out of town, our friendships are kind of permanently frozen in whatever state they were in a year ago. In other cases, I’ve been able to re-connect with friends who did stay in the area. College cliques sometimes dictate who you hang out with, so with that factor removed, I’ve been able to rekindle some old friendships. So that’s one good thing, I guess. But college is something I’ll never get back, and I don’t want to keep wondering if I made the most of it, or if there are opportunities I should have taken advantage of or things I should have done differently.
I really don’t feel like I’ve changed much in a year. I can only imagine what that makes some people reading this think about me. Maybe it validates your opinion of me as pathetic or immature, but it’s still the way I feel. I just hope I’m not writing the same entry this time next year.
Seeing as I don’t live in California, I’m pretty indifferent toward the Governator and his wife, Maria Shriver.
At least I was until I read this article. Now Maria Shriver is my new hero.
If you’re too lazy to click on the link, basically, she recently talked about how she had been planning on going back into TV news this year, but she changed her mind after seeing network coverage of Anna Nicole Smith’s death. She decided she didn’t want to work in an industry that put so much importance on events like that.
Already I can feel the backlash starting—I’m sure people are going to be saying it’s sour grapes and that she’s probably just making excuses.
But I think she’s 100% right. The amount of media coverage given to stupid celebrity stories is ridiculous. When there’s a war going on, people dying of AIDS, global warming, and any other number of important situations that affect the lives of millions of people, the media chooses to focus on…the death of a woman who did approximately nothing with her life?
Now, don’t get me wrong. I buy People now and then, and I can’t say I don’t engage in celebrity gossip conversations sometimes. My celebrity literacy isn’t any lower than the average American’s.
But the degree to which some people obsess over celebrities amazes me. Last year, I had an internship where one of my duties was researching this blog, whose material often includes entries about celebrity parents. It was fun, but in the process I discovered that there are some scary celebrity gossip addicts out there. This was the summer after Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes’ daughter Suri was born, and no pictures of her had been made public. People were speculating on whether she existed or whether the whole pregnancy was part of a diabolical Scientology plot. I actually found one website counting the numbers of days that had passed without a picture being released. And another one had a picture taken from a helicopter that they claimed was of Katie Holmes standing by a window in her house holding something that may or may not have been a baby.
There really is something wrong with a world that focuses on the conditions Paris Hilton will be living in while she’s incarcerated while ignoring the injustices that lead to wrongful imprisonment for the poor. Or speculates about whether Lindsay Lohan’s on drugs while doing nothing to keep drugs away from kids. Or expressing dismay over Alec Baldwin’s phone message to his daughter while letting the TV parent our own kids. And TV news is doing nothing to change that.
Anna Nicole Smith didn’t make anything happen. High-profile fortunes and misfortunes were just thrust upon her. But stories like hers are keeping us from hearing about the people who are making things happen. And when even serious news networks are going down that road, you know there’s a problem.
So…good for Maria Shriver for saying it out loud. I can only hope that her comments will make networks reconsider what’s worthy of round-the-clock coverage in the future.
85 what, you ask? I don’t know, but that seems to be my number. I keep using it to emphasize things.
“I called 85 times and kept getting a busy signal.”
“I need to get around to the 85 other things on my to-do list.”
“It’s about 85 times easier than doing it the other way.”
Maybe there’s some kind of deep symbolism in that number. But if there was, you’d think it would be 84, the year I was born.
I spent a good portion of yesterday reading the Boston Sunday Globe.
I read a piece describing, with quotes from family members, the abusive relationship a doctor who recently shot and killed her husband endured.
I read about how global warming has already caused the mosquito to evolve.
I read about how injured and traumatized veterans who live in rural areas often have trouble finding adequate care.
I read about how many other Republican presidential candidates besides Mitt Romney have “flip-flopped” on the issues.
I read about the age divide in the French elections—overwhelmingly, young people are voting for Royal and older people are voting for Sarkozy.
I read about how illiteracy is on the rise in China, and how most linguists think English isn’t losing its “universal language” status anytime soon.
I read about the issues Arab-Americans have when traveling abroad, how more flight attendants are taking self-defense training, and a café in Denver where patrons pay whatever they can afford and think is reasonable.
I read about how in California, inmates sentenced to jail for minor crimes can pay to upgrade their prison cells, and I read about how schools in Texas are adopting random steroid testing.
I read about how kids who experienced the chemical explosion in Danvers last November are describing that night in words and pictures, and I read about how professors, in the aftermath of the Virginia Tech shooting, have to figure out where the line between creativity and disturbance is in violent student fiction.
I read about how, contrary to what Plato and others have been saying for millennia, our emotions are what make our thoughts possible.
I read about how learning how their energy use compares to their neighbors can cause people to lower their thermostats.
I read about two high school football players, one of whom came back from a stroke to have a successful season and the other of whom came back from major facial surgery.
And I read about the many movies coming out this summer.
It makes me so sad that people don’t read newspapers anymore. I have the Globe delivered and read it on the T on my way to work, and if, for some reason, I don’t read it, my day feels incomplete. My mom likes to end her Sundays in bed, propped up with pillows and reading the Globe. And that was a habit I picked up.
To me, reading a newspaper online just isn’t the same. I don’t really like TV news, particularly local news—they never focus on important stories, and most of the time they go for sensationalism. Around here, Channel 7 is a particular culprit—their headlines are all alliterated. It’s ridiculous. Random sampling of headlines from tonight: “Deadly Drive,” “Animal Attack,” “Hometown Hero,” and “Driven to Distraction.”
People my age, I think, tend to get their news from sites like cnn.com, or from The Daily Show (which I do like, but come on). But what it means is that newspapers can’t get advertisers and thus have to cut newsroom jobs. Sometimes entire departments are only one person. It’s getting harder and harder to get jobs in journalism, and I don’t see it getting better anytime soon.
But I’m sticking with my Globe. It’s a lot easier to read a newspaper on the T than a web site. I doubt I’ll ever have warm, fuzzy memories about curling up in bed to read the news on my computer. And waking up on a weekend, finding the paper outside the door, making yourself a hot chocolate and a bagel, and going out on the porch to lounge and read the news? Let me just say that if you’ve never had that experience, you don’t know what you’re missing.
I like The Office.
And I’m also starting to get into American Idol.
I’ve posted about TV before, and you might have noticed a pattern. I like Gilmore Girls, I grew embarrassingly obsessed with The O.C. in its final season, I caught up with Sex and the City via the DVDs, I still watch Desperate Housewives (although as of late I don’t like it quite as much), and I was one of three people watching Six Degrees, which was just cancelled. Meanwhile, Studio 60 drove me crazy.
So basically, my taste in TV shows, like my taste in music and everything else about me, is uncool. I watch shows that absolutely no one else is watching, shows being used past their expiration dates, shows aimed at teenagers.
And American Idol is my new guilty pleasure.
Now, this is not entirely my fault. Despite my great cable package, I’ve never had the premium channels longer than a month, so I’ve never seen anything on HBO or Showtime.
But sometimes…I just don’t see what the big deal is about a show. So many people raved about Arrested Development when it was on, but I saw it three times and…honestly? I thought all the characters were really annoying (even Jason Bateman’s character, whom I think we were supposed to like), and it didn’t make me laugh once. I’m not a huge fan of sci-fi or fantasy (with the exceptions of The X-Files and Harry Potter), so I don’t watch Heroes or Doctor Who or Battlestar Galactica. And sometimes I can appreciate a show for what it is but, for whatever reason, can’t get into it. I thought The West Wing was a well-done show, but for some reason it never really captured my interest enough to compel me to tune in every week. (Plus I kind of hate Aaron Sorkin now—hear what a jackass he is in this interview.)
But now I have some credibility. I like The Office. The American version, at least. Please ignore the fact that I haven’t seen the British version yet.
And the fact that I’ve been watching American Idol lately.
Yes, I like The Office! I think it’s genuinely funny, well-written, and well-acted. I’m still catching up with the DVDs my friend lent me, but so far, I do see what the big deal is. It won the Emmy for Best Comedy Series last year, and it completely deserved it.
I think the important thing for me with TV shows, any shows, is for me to be interested in the characters. If I want plot, I watch a movie. But I can appreciate a show like the late, potentially-great Six Degrees, which didn’t have a lot of big, dramatic moments, but had six main characters about whom I genuinely cared. On the other hand, with very few exceptions, all the characters on Studio 60 annoyed the hell out of me.
Yeah, I know, still doesn’t explain the American Idol thing.
But I think the characters on The Office are great. You have the over-the-top characters (Michael and Dwight) along with the likeable, interesting, realistic ones (Jim and Pam—and yes, I do want them together!), and then all the other office people who have distinct, often funny, personalities but seem like people with whom you might actually work. The show always makes me laugh, but it never seems like it’s straining or trying too hard.
Maybe I just miss singing? I’m living vicariously through Melinda Doolittle (who should totally win)?
So, yes. I like The Office. I like a show that, at the moment, is pretty hard to disparage. Does that make up for my questionable taste in the past?
Or does American Idol just ruin everything? At least I’m not voting for Sanjaya.
D just got back from a skiing trip to France. Earlier this year, her grandmother died. When she went skiing with her cousins, she collided with her little cousin’s ski boot and ended up with a huge red mark on her face that took awhile to disappear. She has a sister, and she talks to her dad a lot. Someone keeps calling her to ask about a position that hasn’t yet been filled. And she’s buying a condo in Maine.
I know all this about her. And yet D and I have never spoken a word to each other.
No, I’m not a stalker. I just work in an office.
D and I work for the same company, but not on the same projects. Her cube is near mine, and while she seems like a very nice person, she is incredibly loud on the phone. And she makes and receives a lot of personal calls during work.
Everyone, I guess, has to make personal calls sometimes. If you’re at work, chances are, if you need someone to do a job for you, they’re at work when you are. Some people give out their work phone numbers, but most people get calls on their cells. And at this point, I can identify everyone’s cell phone ring. There was one woman, who has since left the company, who had this cool, Egyptian-esque ring, and I’d hear it every day at 3:00 when her son called her to tell her that he’d gotten home from school. The guy who took her place has the Mission: Impossible theme as his ringtone. D keeps hers on vibrate, so every day I hear this buzz buzz buzz, buzz buzz buzz.
I don’t get too many calls during work, and I step outside if I have to make one. But I do wonder what my coworkers have learned about me the few times I have gotten calls during work. Mostly, I’m just fighting with my dermatologist’s office, trying to figure out why they’re having so many issues with my insurance. Or I’m getting random calls like this one:
Me: (seeing from the caller ID that it’s Christina) Hey, what’s up?
Christina: Hey, what was that restaurant we ate at before we saw Phantom of the Opera?
Me: Uh, Bennigan’s. Why?
Christina: Because I couldn’t remember and it was pissing me off!
And there was that one time my mom called me to tell me about the Great Cartoon Bombing of Boston. But for the most part, the only calls I get are from sales reps and my boss, when she’s traveling.
D and I sometimes give each other a smile of acknowledgment when we pass each other around the office, but like I said, we’ve never spoken. I wonder if she realizes that I could tell her the story of her life. Maybe before she moves to Maine, from where she’ll telecommute, I’ll go up to her and say, “Hope you enjoy Portland!”
I am about to admit an extremely disturbing fact about myself. In this day and age, there are plenty of things to get pissed off about. But the strongest amount of anger I’ve ever felt wasn’t over Darfur or global warming or the war or homelessness or world hunger or cancer or human rights violations. So what was it that caused me to writhe and seethe in the most frightening rage I’ve ever felt?
My computer.
Depending on my mood, “stupid,” “fucking,” or “piece of crap” can sometimes follow “my.”
Here’s my story. Yesterday, I came home, and my roommate Christina, who has a job interview next week, asked me if I’d take a look at her cover letter and resume. I said yes (and, on a side note, said “covah letta” without even thinking about it, thus proving that I can still drop r’s like the best Bostonians) and headed to the computer. Here’s what ensued.
First of all, I should note that on Christmas Eve 2005, I got a computer virus and my hard drive had to be wiped clean. Luckily, I had most of my stuff backed up, but my computer has had all kinds of quirks since then. Among them are its inability to use screensavers, so when I return to my computer after a long absence, there are three possibilities. I might simply have to press any key to return to what I was doing. I might have to hit the on button and then long back in. Or I might have to restart completely. On any given day, it might be any one of those options.
Yesterday it was option b, hitting the on button and logging back in. After that, however, I had to take out and re-insert my wireless card several times before I could connect to the Internet. When I finally did, I logged into gmail. I clicked on Christina’s attachment.
And I waited. And I waited. And w a i t e d . . .
The thing is four and a half years old, and it shows its age by having moments of ridiculous, incredible slowness. This was its worse one yet. After twenty minutes of not being able to open the attachment, I shut down the computer.
And then, of course, I had to wait about ten minutes, as always, for the computer to boot up and connect to the Internet. After clicking on Firefox, I had to wait for that to load. And once I got into gmail and clicked the attachment again…it was s t i l l s l o w.
By the time I finally got the attachment open, it had been about an hour. Yes, you read that right. It took me an entire hour to open one fucking attachment!
I first got this damn thing I’m typing on now in August of 2002, right before I started college. I was thrilled—it was the first time I’d owned my own computer. And for awhile, I was quite fond of it. I made my first mix CD on it. I typed my thesis on it. I wrote the few pieces of my writing that have been published on it. We had a lot of good times, this piece of crap and I.
But screw nostalgia. I can only take so much abuse. I can’t let this thing be like the boyfriend who calls you fat and won’t return your calls and, when you try to call him on it, reminds you of all the great things he’s done for you in the past and then has a couple of good days to try and make you forget.
But I WILL NOT FORGET! Computer, our days are over. I am breaking up with you. I am moving on and becoming a stronger person for it. You’re just getting shoved in the back of my closet.
Seriously, the amount of anger I sometimes have towards this thing is truly frightening. So I’m going to get a new one sooner rather than later. I don’t care if I go broke over it. Saving money is not worth my sanity.
Sure, this might read like an overreaction. But you know what? You wait until it takes you a FUCKING HOUR to open an attachment, and then tell me if you’re thinking about world hunger.