Saturday, May 05, 2007

Slinky pee

There's Slinky pee on my movie script notecards that I pulled out the other day. Why not write a movie during the random two hour break in the middle of my endless day? And I read the cards and I enjoyed them and was filled with a renewed self esteem. I write good.

So I left the sprawled over the bed (the cards, that is) and Slinky peed on them (just a tad). As much as I am against my cards getting golden doggy showers, I am not so mad at her. It's someone trying to tell me... ummm... graduate from the notecard stage- You're getting nowhere.

I am a big fan of parentheticals (clearly) and it's nice to know that Dostoesky is too. Read The Idiot.

Monday, April 02, 2007

Baking- like neuroscience

I just baked a chocolate cake (from a box) but got all crazy on it's ass...

I added:
1 cup mashed sweet potatoes I had baked earlier with butter and vanilla
1/3 cup of half and half
2 eggs and
1/2 cup of olive oil (probably unnecessary)

BONUS: I baked it in the still greasy cake pan I had laying around from earlier when I baked the sweet potatoes in butter.

RESULTS: Good chocolate cake. Not so even...grew more in the middle. Very spongy and tasty. Probably could have added some chocolate chips. Then it would have been fantastic.

NEW HYPOTHESIS: If baking is like science then I'm like... Tesla? Haha I WISH.

Springtime Crazies

I was wondering why all the crazy things I've done were in the springtime, and why I feel so whacked out right now. Here's an article that tells me everything I could have guessed (and a few things I couldn't have).

*Spring fever article*

However, this next article is pretty useless. It seems to have been written for A) Very religious people who do not discuss emotions or feelings or B) People who have gone through menopause. It's incredibly clean and uninteresting, discussing the meaning of spring, the reason for spring holidays and traditions, and really centers around instructions for becoming an optimist. What's funny is that I feel least optimistic in the spring. All this cleaning house and thinking of new projects and the future makes me rather grim. I guess I'm just not capturing that "springtime optimism" the way they're directing me.

*Springtime Optimism*

Here's another article that completely leaves hormones and chemicals out of the picture. It gives a very weak (in my opinion) explanation for Springtime tragedies in public schools (shootings and suicides). Now I am just scanning the text right now, but i don't see any mention of a scientific reason for manic depressive behavior. Basically the gist I'm getting is, if you add up all the listed factors (tests, failing grades, graduation, changing relationships, stress of 9/11) you are bound to run into some kids who can't handle it, and will go wacko. They make no mention of chemical changes that occur in the body between winter and summer. Seems like they're leaving out a large factor, considering teenagers bodies are already wacked out as it is.

*Safe Schools and Springtime*

So, apparently not a lot of scientists think that the springtime imbalance is very interesting or worth studying, but I know I'm not the only one who goes through this. Here's one girl's blog, which reads pretty much word for word like one of mine about 4 years ago.

*Young and Fabulous*

My own personal theory about my own personal angst-filled slump that I am just now experiencing is as follows: Raging hormones and springy chemical imbalances cause fitful daydreaming, and an extreme feeling of unrest. My daydreaming about the future is pessimistic whereas my daydreaming about complete and utter fantasy world scenarios is much more fun, though completely not beneficial to anything at all, and therefore comes with a lot of guilt. Guilt makes me depressed. An extreme case of ADHD makes me only fit for daydreaming, and even then sometimes I lose my train of thought. How frustrating! I can't even sit and write something creative or work on plausible ideas. I just want to go for walks, stare at things, and nap. Good thing I start work soon.

Thursday, March 15, 2007

Victor Hugo eludes me no more

"Sileto et spera"

Be silent and hope. Latin written over the door of the
seigniorial mansion of Tourville. Thanks to THIS BLOG HERE I have finally located the text of my next tattoo. It was translated in a footnote of my old and now lost edition of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and at the time my room was beige (barf) so I used to pencil things in on my walls, out of books and songs. Then we painted the room and years later I was left wishing I were still smart enough to at least have taken a picture of the wall. Oh well. And I was right, the text was nice looking. There are many translations of everything, and trying to put it together myself got me things like "Obticeas et expectas" ... just not as pretty. So wow. My mission is accomplished. $100 or so dollars later and I might have a real nice tat. Where to put it??

Also, mentioning weird coincidences between blog authors, there were definitely some Paul Simon phrases penciled onto my wall, and low and behold the title of the blog I found this on was a line from "Call me Al" (I think)...

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

or Z.) All of the above

Life Goals-

-Get married
-Pump out some kids
-Have a nice house
-Live in the country
-Visit Iceland
-Master woodcarving
-Have a lot of pets
-Take some yoga classes
-Be very physically fit

-Graduate Highschool (CHECK)
-Go to film school (CHECK)
-Get a Masters degree in *Anthropology/Latin/The Classics
-Learn basic furniture making/ cabinetmaking
-Get film internship/ "BIZ" experience

-Write a movie (that gets made)
-Write a novel
-Direct/Produce award winning short film (any award will do)
-Direct/Produce pointless musical short
-Start a non-profit rural arts organization

"Miles to go before I sleep."

Thursday, March 08, 2007


I have decided to become a good/better memorizer. The first assignment I'm giving myself is this poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow- because it's easier to start with something that rhymes- and I like him and remember a lot of his poems from back in school... Like for instance....

The Arrow and the Song

I shot an arrow into the air
It fell to earth, I know not where
For so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in it's flight

I breathed a song into the air
It fell to earth, I know not where
For who has sight so keen and strong
That it can follow the flight of a song?

Long, long afterward in an oak
I found the arrow still unbroke
And the song, from beginning to end
I found again in the heart of a friend.

Or perhaps this classic

The Pasture Spring

I'm going out to clean the pasture spring
I'll only stop to rake the leaves away
And wait to watch the water clear, I may
I shan't be gone long-
You come too.

I'm going out to fetch the little calf
Standing by the mother, it is so young
It totters when she licks it with her tongue.
I shan't be gone long-
You come too.

If you've never read these, you don't care... but I remember them from school... quoting them a million times. The good 'ole days.

And now my assignment-


When descends on the Atlantic
The gigantic
Storm-wind of the equinox,
Landward in his wrath he scourges
The toiling surges,
Laden with seaweed from the rocks:

From Bermuda's reefs; from edges
Of sunken ledges,
In some far-off, bright Azore;
From Bahama, and the dashing,
Surges of San Salvador;

From the tumbling surf, that buries
The Orkneyan skerries,
Answering the hoarse Hebrides;
And from wrecks of ships, and drifting
Spars, uplifting
On the desolate, rainy seas; —

Ever drifting, drifting, drifting
On the shifting
Currents of the restless main;
Till in sheltered coves, and reaches
Of sandy beaches,
All have found repose again.

So when storms of wild emotion
Strike the ocean
Of the poet's soul, erelong
From each cave and rocky fastness,
In its vastness,
Floats some fragment of a song:

From the far-off isles enchanted,
Heaven has planted
With the golden fruit of Truth;
From the flashing surf, whose vision
Gleams Elysian
In the tropic clime of Youth;

From the strong Will, and the Endeavor
That forever
Wrestle with the tides of Fate;
From the wreck of Hopes far-scattered,
Floating waste and desolate; —

Ever drifting, drifting, drifting
On the shifting
Currents of the restless heart;
Till at length in books recorded,
They, like hoarded
Household words, no more depart.

Monday, March 05, 2007


The kid next to me was talking about never breathing in New York because of all the germs and he said "I'm like an air camel" ... that made me laugh on the INSIDE so I'm recording it.

Saturday, February 24, 2007

NYC Comic Con

Yeah, so I went to the Comic Con, what of it? It was only one day. I enjoyed walking around amongst the displays, stores, artists, writers, and fans. I did not enjoy being hit in the shoulder by everyone's overstuffed backpack. What is it with you people? Have you no concept of how much space you occupy at any given time? Do any of you DRIVE CARS? I sincerely hope not. I got pissier and pissier each time someone did a double take or decided to pull a U-y in the middle of a high traffic area, because each time I got knocked. I hate people.

These were the two stands I liked the most, other than the Dark Horse, and Hellboy animated stands that gave out posters...

Dumbrella- They had an enticing table that was mobbed by emo teeny boppers- usually not a good sign, but I guess you can't hold it against them that the teeny-boppers seem to be developing better taste. I went to their site and their blog is awesome (i.e. it sounds as if I wrote it)- they are a collection of comic makers with different books and shirts. Fun stuff.

VooDooBabies!- Oh man. I know I was taught that voodoo was wrong, evil, and horrible... but these guys are so damn cute. And there is a disclaimer in regards to their voodoo powers (or lack thereof). Basically this is just plain good craftsmanship and utter cuteness. I could not walk by without buying three of them. And of course my ultimate goal is to collect them ALL. For some reason I am intent on attaching them to the strings of lights that use strings to turn on and off.

So it wasn't a totally horrible nerd experience... but please, everyone, just leave your backpack at home. You weren't all going to a slumber party afterwards, and all that was in there were smelly hoodies and coats, I'm sure. Darn you all.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007


The internet is an amazing place, so I just wanted to let everyone know I am missing my class ring. It has most likely gotten misplaced in my filthy house, but there is always the slim chance that I lost it on the street... being that it's not very useful to anyone but a '04 Ithaca College graduate with a b.s. in cinema and photo- the person who finds it might look for me- perhaps online.

so here's my attempt to come up on top of such a search.

Rachel M. Robinson went to Ithaca College for Cinema and Photo, graduating in 2004 with a B.S in Cinema & Photo. She lost her class ring in New York City on the upper East side and she works in the 30's near Penn Station. The ring is silver (white gold) with a blue stone.


Wednesday, February 07, 2007

Top Astronaut- tonight at 8/7 Central

With the latest developments of the weird "love triangle" astronaut kidnap/murder case, I'd like to suggest a new direction for the space program- reality television. It has come to my attention that scientists, though they appear so self-effacing and do-gooderish in the news and the papers, have just as massive egos as any other professionals. Astronauts must have some of the biggest of the bunch considering they have to go through all that psychological evaluation before they can even enter their profession. But has this been awarded in the past- no. I think it's time. I want to see The Real World...In Space! I'd like to see a zero-gravity Survivor. I'd like to see Top Powdered Astronaut Food Chef. I think the rest of the world is with me.

You have to wonder if the price of a reality television is comparable to the price of a large, sophisticated rocket. I need some internet whiz kid to find those figures for me. How many reality TV travesty's would we have to combine to make one season of Vh1 SpaceCelebReality?

Also I would like to note that the New York Times article about the crazy astronaut lady was definitely lacking. But in the end one crime expert did say that it was odd that the lady was so prepared, having brought pepper spray, a pistol, rubber hose, plastic and duct tape. He said it was completely unique for a female crime, only men usually plan ahead.


...excuse me? Females not planning their crimes? Hello... some girls don't even leave the house without changes of clothing for every worst-case scenario that is statistically possible... You're saying that these same girls, when driven to commit acts of violence, just lose all that "be prepared" and become commiters of random crimes of passion?? No no no nononoonono.

I think that many more females have gotten away with crimes than we know.

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

maple cheddar heart attack

I know it's going to sound really obvious to all of everyone but me...but if you go to a Dunkin Donuts anytime soon, do yourself a favor and DO NOT GET THE CHEDDAR, SAUSAGE, MAPLE, CROISSANT SADWICH. That's right, folks- SADwich. It's about 700 calories of painful, oozy grease. Not wonderful and delightful like the pictures make it seem.

But don't worry, I took the fall for you, and now you don't have to feel compelled to get it just to see what it's like. Or just because you easily break under the pressure of the advertisements of your favorite establishments.

I love Dunkin- but SAVE YOURSELF.

Monday, February 05, 2007

Still don't know what the title means...

So I decided to read A Clockwork Orange so that I could act as if I knew more about the movie, which I haven't seen for a quite some time. It was a good read, a lot of fun. It makes you wonder if you are a special sort of person to be able to easily get a grasp of the funky future slang the narrator uses throughout the book. I do know some people who said they couldn't get through it, but I think those people read with a much more focused and demanding eye than I do. I just like to gloss- to get the feeling and the idea. To glaze over and not realize that I'm reading at all. It's as if the book is just sending me the message telepathically.

The worst is when you stumble during this kind of reading, and then start thinking about how strange it all is. It's really hard to start back up again. All of the sudden you're staring at each individual word and they don't seem to make sense because when you reach the last word you can't remember what the beginning of the sentence said. I hate when this happens. Readers block.

Anyway, about the book. It was great. The movie was a pretty true adaptation, except the movie ditches the last chapter. You should go to the library and read the last chapter- then you can tell everyone your read the book.

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Boll-ing for books

So I went to the library last week and started grabbing books randomly off the shelves- sounds like it could end up badly but so far it's been great. I picked up the short novel The Train Was on Time by Heinrich Boll. No idea what it was about. But now I'm about 10 pages from the end and I LOVED it.

It's about a German's last thoughts and feelings as he rides a train to the front lines in Poland where he's convinced that he is going to die. It's kind of strange that I found this book right then, because I had just had a dream about going to Iraq, and I can still distinctly remember/feel the strange wave of emotion that washed over me (in the dream) when I realized that I was probably going to die.

Also I am inspired to write my own book. This was Boll's first. Where's mine?

Monday, January 29, 2007

Psychogenic Polydipsia

I am going to study this more and have a character in a script who has to be watched all the time because they may just have the urge to drink way too much water.

Water intoxication- not fun!

Here's some bad news on the subject...

Monday, January 15, 2007

Trumpet Two Punches!

So there was a game I played in... middle school and early high school- kind of a small school craze- called "Trumpet".

The point of "trumpet" was to get whomever you happened to be talking to to repeat themselves. When they said the same thing to you twice, you could say (or YELL!) "trumpet" and then punch them or kiss them or take their lunch... whatever the agreed specifics were between you and the individual. We even had a teacher involved. We got nothing from her, and we never got to hit her, but we DID get the joy of a brief class disruption. Worth it!

Anyway, at the time of the trumpet craze, Malcom in the Middle was a cute little show that most everyone watched on Sundays. In Malcom, they played the Circle game. You make a circle (like an "A-OK" sign) with your thumb and pointer somewhere below your waist, and when you get the other person to look in the circle you get to hit them, kiss them, etc... BUT not if they get their pointer finger into the hole before ... I don't know, what. I forget... I think without looking directly at it. I think it was all about the peripheral vision.

Either way, we started playing Trumpet and circle in conjunction. We intertwined them until we were sufficiently bruised and sexually harassed... Then, as it is with all incredibly good games, they were banned from school. They have been absent from MY life ever since.

I miss them and the people who cared about them. I hope I can somehow get people to play them with me later in life. That will be when I know I have the perfect job.

My boss: Rachel, could you get me the file about the thing that's cool, etc. etc?
Rachel: What's that? I have headphones on.
My boss: Could you get me the FILE about the THING that's cool, etc. ETC.?

Tuesday, January 09, 2007


I would just like to share that I have a dog named Slinky.

She is nicknamed "Stinky" slinky because she likes to pee all over her blankets, her bed, the floor, and anything else that can fall beneath her squatty little vagina.

But I do like her. Despite the pee. Everywhere. All the time. She's a hard case. She led a tough life, and she is not quick to open up to anyone. I probably have a crush on her.

When we got Slinky she was the shortest looking dachshund anyone had ever seen. She is slowly leangthening. She's five years old, or so, so she's not growing- just losing some weight. Most people get to pack some weight onto their dogs when they bring them home from the pound, but not Stinky- she went on a diet straight away. It is hard to tame the beast.

Slinky is like a teenager. If you let Slinky lie around all day she will walk around in circles all night. If you let her walk around too long she will pee on the floor. Nothing short of constant attention and supervision will keep Slinky on the right track.

Slinky is a good measuring stick. You can measure a person's unconditional love with Slinky. Pets are easy to love when they are obedient or cute. Slinky is neither of those things. But how can you blame an animal? Who do you blame? Her parents? Her retarded dog genes? Is it her fault? She didn't ask to be born and raised locked in a gay couple's kitchen. Anyway, people who try to convince you that Slinky is able to be good, just too crafty or lazy to go through with it, and that's why they dislike her- those people aren't as nice as the ones that like Slinky in all her stinkiness. Those people aren't going to cut you slack, or listen to excuses that involve your feelings. Maybe those people have worked so hard to make good decisions all their life, that the are jealous of the fact that you can love Slinky despite her glaring flaws. What's fair about that?

Well, there's nothing fair about it. I guess that's why love and logic don't mix, and I like Slinky.

Friday, January 05, 2007

wishful dreaming

So. Last night I dreamed I was in some house (not my own or any I've seen). I'd say it was a ranch style with a big basement that had laundry facilities. It was supposedly the house where I lived. In the basement someone was doing a lot of laundry. At first I thought it was Cory, a tenant in my building- and perhaps it was. But shortly thereafter I realized, NO it's someone famous! I realized this when the famous man pinched my butt. I was ready to be really offended when I realized it was, from a distance, Matthew Mcchonehy (or whatever his name is). I was still offended, but a little more ...honored? to have him doing laundry at my house. But no, it got BETTER. It turns out that it was really Owen Wilson (who I kept calling Wes Anderson). When he came upstairs I put my hands on his shoulders (and he was about my height) and looked into his face (which looked a little warped- I don't usually get that close to people in dreams) and said "I am SO happy it is YOU!" I was referring to the fact that he could now COMPLETELY get me that intern ship with Wes Anderson that I've been pining for.

So in conclusion, Owen Wilson- despite bad behavior- can come to my house to do laundry any time.

Thursday, January 04, 2007

American Woman...

I'm 100% American, which means that I spend a lot of time binging on junk food, and even MORE time talking about how I am planning on losing weight. On my quest to stick to SOMETHING (one or the other) I found-

How fun! Have your own private health blog! And it works for skinny people too. Just figure out what your goals are for daily riboflavin intake, and you're off.