Spam Poetry Take I

I run a blog for my company, and we get a lot of terrible spam. Spam tries to look like real comments by using trigger words, and often it comes very close to almost being a sentence. I feel like the spam is trying to tell me something, if I only listen close enough...

I've become rather attached to the spam comments, keeping them stashed on my desktop now for the past few weeks, and I will often read them out to a coworker when I get the chance. The readings evolved into a kind of theatrical moment for me, as though I was reading from someone's secret diary. I became inspired to make them into more than what they were, and give them the life they'll never have, by turning them into odd poetry.

So here's my first poem (the first poem I've written since college) and every line and word is from a spam comment. I took very few liberties, just let lines from my ten favorite comments jump out at me. I've gotten five poems so far, but I'll share my least favorite with you here, just to see how you like the thing.

Spam Poetry: Access Consistently (titles are from the comments as well)

I simply stumbled upon

Accession.

Capital.

Even faced with the impossible,

Happiness exists inside

Consequent health ramifications

Including nerologogical disorders.

Use smudge sticks.

How to defeat a T-Rex in a Staring Contest

1. Bring Meat. 
1. Did you bring meat? We're talking the equivalent of fish and blood offered to around ten great white sharks--or more accurately, an actual Megalodon. Only instead of fish bring cows. If you didn't bring meat, you won't even see step two because you're already dead.
2. Ride in on a Brachiosaurus
1. What, you thought you could have a contest from your meager height of 5'6" while you're on the ground? You're the one who didn't bring meat, aren't you.
3. Breathe fire.
1. This step is really only for professionals and/ or those who read my blog. I'll teach you sometime.
4. Don't close your eyes.
1. This last step seems like it'd be obvious, but I had to remind you to bring meat, so you're common sense is already in question.

And there you have it. So what else do you need answered?

Follow Your Heart...

...says the wrapper of my Dove dark chocolate pieces, the lyrics of unremarkable and outrageously popular pop songs, and (probably) every movie I ever watched as a child.

To them I say: NO.

My heart is usually only asking me to do one or two things: Drink Wine. Eat Chocolate.

Or even: Eat Chocolate. Drink Wine.

Sometimes it wants me to do both while reading, but I spend more money on books, less on wine and chocolate; the equation becomes disproportionate.

But I cannot drink wine and eat chocolate endlessly whilst reading delicious books. And that makes the phrase "follow your heart" rather misleading--unless, it is meant to dissuade people from achieving success and social acceptance, in which case to those perpetrators of the phrase I say, "Well played."

Hey There, Star Kittens.

I'm officially a writer. I noticed this today, as I published more work to my company's website.

Maybe I've been a writer this whole time. Maybe all the stories and tales of dinosaurs posted within this blog make me a writer. Or maybe the work I did as a college undergrad made me a writer. I don't know.

I do know that you can find my writings on over 200 websites and news sources. And while they're only Press Releases--meant to be reclaimed by the very sources that re-post them--a lot of them have kept my words, words from my technical self that wants to spread news about the industry I work in.

But, my lovely Star Kittens, that's not enough for me. I'm going to publish a book.

In fact, I'm already working on it. And I want you to check it out.

So, should I post bits of chapters here or on a new blog? It is not about raptors (unfortunately) but it is a fantasy book dedicated to humor (like this blog, in a way, but more focused--yet somehow still random...)

Give me your feedback. I'm going to be putting together a Twitter as well in the next few weeks, which I will link here. And maybe I will start a Vlog, so you can see my awkward face as I gush about my aspirations and dinosaurs.

Thanks Star Kittens, you truly are marvelous.

Cat Mentality

So I know I said on my Facebook that I would draw more sharks on fire, but this is going to be about cats.

I, and my sisters, have believed for some time now that our cats Priscilla and Charolette, may they rest in peace, have been haunting our house for the last few years (since their death I mean. Although cats haunt places when they're alive as well. They're really just haunters). And probably we are crazy for thinking this (and I know I'm probably crazy for a number of reasons--no just kidding, I'm normal. Look, here's a shark <O< ) but recently a Dashing Young Man (aka my boyfriend) came by and, whilst he was relaxing on the couch, remarked, "I say, is that a member of the feline species stalking your stairs? Forgive me, it was just a trick of the---" "GHOSTS" I finished for him (even though he doesn't talk like that in real life). And thus it was that a third party, unaware of the previous suspicions held by me and my sisters, came to reaffirm in me that my old cats DO stalk these halls in death...

Which is why I'm writing about cats. Because after the Dashing Young Man retired for the evening, I began to wonder what my old cats must have thought during their alive years. And this is what I came up with:

Charolette's Thoughts Regarding Humans

1. The humans cannot be left alone. They seem to be afraid the moment they find themselves without other company. Yet they continually lock me out from places. No matter, to protect them I scratch for long minutes upon the doors, reaching to try the handles. Eventually I am let in, with reluctance I don't understand. 
2. Humans do not have fur and therefore, I am sure, will die of cold very quickly, even in warm weather. I try to help them with this, by curling upon their laps. It is tiresome, resting upon their bony legs, saving them from death, when my only reward is hardened food morsels.
3. There are strange noises from the place beyond the invisible doors. I watch the humans come and go from the place, but I cannot fathom what could be more important than lying in the sun beams on the floor. They do not seem to grasp the true simple joys of life. I wonder what it is they could be seeking...

Wow, I was going to work on that being more like the funny images in my head (a drawing was going to be included) but I'm actually having a little difficulty continuing...Erm, I didn't think it would be this sad to write about my old cats. Damn. I thought I was Stone! Beyond the emotions of mortals!

To make up for me going into the Sadlands, here's a shark that I drew/colored: 

Things Are Looking Good

Also titled: Scott Pilgrim Starts to Get it Together

(Image: Bryan Lee O'Malley. Occasion for posting image: Because)


I made myself Scott Pilgrim. Alyssa vs The World!

Waitressing: It's what's for dinner.

One of my favorite professors from Whitworth told me to get a job after graduation that allows me to still be creative. I just started waitressing at a sushi restaurant, and while it's not something that exactly makes me feel like rainbows might come out of my eyeballs, it leaves me with a lot of free time during the day. And free time is the time given by the Fitzgerald gods to do things of worth. (Fitzgerald's free time was the sober periods of his day between the "I'm-still-drunk-from-last-night" mornings and "No-seriously-why-are-we-in-France" evenings, and the occasional "When-did-I-get-a-daughter" Saturday afternoons.)

I bring up the Fitz, or as I like to call him, Fizzy, because he was a great writer who spent most of his life feeling worthless, getting kicked out of fancy clubs, and then completing a book in one week.

It's hard in the Facebook era to not 1) try to spell "era" "are" and 2) compare oneself to everyone else on one's newsfeed. At times I feel so overwhelmed by appreciation for things others are accomplishing and abject despair that I am not accomplishing anything. It's a kind of emotion that is bottomless: Fill with amazement at awesomeness other people are doing; all that feeling is emptied by the bottomless hole that is your despair at not doing anything. Repeat.

All the juvenile comparisons aside (and a duckling's teardrop wiped away), what I'm worried about the most is that I just don't enjoy the very basic delights of life. I don't really know what else to say about that, except to give a metaphor: It's like I keep forgetting that dinosaurs existed.

That's really the best way to put how I'm feeling about life right now.

One of the ways I'm dealing with my abject despair or dinosaur amnesia is to apply to everything that I think would make me sound really cool to be doing. But I really don't think that's going to make me feel better in the long run. Dinosaurs must be restored to the gaping head wound.

I'm also working on my sketch art a lot. Latest is the anime character Ururu from "Bleach" because she is such a badass. I kind of mixed her with some Mord-Sith details. Maybe I'll post it later this week when I'm trying to boost my creativity midi-chlorians.

A Rather Humorless Kind of Humor

I feel like Aragorn, at the moment in the first LOTR movie when he kneels before Frodo and says in that heartbreaking whisper, "I would have gone with you to the end, into the very fires of Mordor."

At least, in my head I feel like I keep saying that over, and over. It might be similar. Frodo replies, "I know." Because you know Aragorn would have gone, but his place was elsewhere. And Frodo knows that Aragorn's place is elsewhere, and that is why he lets Strider go, as it were. (And, as a proclaimed Tolkien nerd, you might be wondering why I'm referencing the movie, and the answer is: because in my head I'm kind of like Viggo Mortensen, but a girl--a badass girl with weapons galore and a five o'clock shadow...no, too far. No beard.)

Break-ups usually leave me feeling the pangs of Aragorn's dilemma, as I think of it. Not because my relationships are always worthy of a Fellowship, but because I don't know what to do when the relationship is over. In a way, we fought battles together, overcame "Boromirs", of a sort, and kept the Ring secret and safe, or something, and now it's time for me to ride off and find a new kingdom and bring the armies of Middle Earth together in a final battle--what was I talking about? Oh, hobbits.

I don't have any hobbits to save. Maybe, if I did, I would stop reaching for my cell phone to text Frodo about some mundane activity I did that no one in their right mind would want to know about that, for some reason, people in relationships live to know about.

I suppose no one is taking the hobbits to Isengard...? No? Fine, but I'll look into some warrior classes, just in case...

Anatomy of a Dinosaur T-rex Edition

Essential facts that a survivor needs to know (see previous post for specific 'raptor survival instructions)

To begin: A t-rex is bigger than you. Not in the way that a basketball player is bigger than you, or your older brother. Not even in the way a bully can appear bigger than you while really being smaller. To properly appreciate the size of a t-rex, attempt to push over a medium-sized skyscraper; it will be unaware of your existence, your efforts are vain, and you look ridiculous.

Second: Unlike that skyscraper, the t-rex is aware of you. He is always aware of you, even when you are standing very, very still. He is aware. Imagine that the world's best sniper is using a laser to pinpoint your exact spot, but he is leagues away from you and the laser is overly sensitive to anything moving in the area. It is just a matter of time before the laser adapts and narrows in: Target acquired.

Proceeding: The t-rex does not have a sniper rifle (thankfully). He has something worse (uh-oh). Uh-oh is the correct expression. Think of a great white shark's teeth. They are used for shredding and snapping seals, and other prey, quickly and viciously, ending life or dismembering limb in a single snap. The only thing similar between a great white shark and a t-rex is the sharp first row of teeth. Only, a t-rex has larger teeth. And, unfortunately for you, a t-rex does not end life in one quick snap. He gnaws, twisting at a limb until it is ripped off, holding down his prey with his large skyscraper-like back leg. And then he finds he is bored and leaves his victim, probably alive, for a later snack.

To conclude: I have briefed you on the basic dangers of this goliath. You may wonder, What can I do to survive? You can join the revolution.

With me.

And my velociraptor army.

Or perish, probably.

I dreamed about velociraptors in Valencia Town Mall last night. But they were the size of dogs and spunky and someone was ripping their hearts out. And a bear had learned to use the elevator.

Ghosts.

Walking among the remains.

I started my morning by running around in my underwear, screaming "DINOSAURS OH MY GOSH DINOSAURS!" The running included an impromptu little jig atop my mother's bed while she stood in her bathroom brushing her hair. I was so excited I just could not finish getting ready. Because today I went to the new dinosaur hall at the LA Museum of Natural History.

Walking among the remains of the dead sounds morbid. Staring at their disconnected vertebrae in a display case sounds sick. Standing beside their skulls and smiling for a picture is just plain disrespectful. All this I thought about as I walked into the exhibit, and completely disregarded as soon as the first creature was seen, raising its head over the crowd of jumbling humans.

It was like a dream. I knew I was seeing and yet it seemed unimaginable. These beasts had to survive in a world of violence and natural catastrophe. I stood entranced, enthralled, overwhelmed. I think I could almost sense the dedication gone into uncovering their skeletal remains, and it made me love them though I was terrified. I am a sucker for the complex and beautiful machinery, and nothing is so beautiful and complex as a dinosaur.

"What happened, you guys!?!?!"
To begin with, fossilization blows my mind. Minerals filling in the bone cavity as it decays away and staying preserved like that beneath the ground--I just feel like someone left it there, just knew we'd want to see it 25 million years later. It feels so unlikely, the whole process, doesn't it? When we are really left with so very few human remains from the first of us to evolve 4 million years ago. But dinosaurs, who roamed the earth long before humans made their first steps, are scattered over our continents. And I am so glad they are.

There is something so extraordinary about them. What the hell happened to them!? I kept hearing the most popular theories of their demise, but none of it really explained why so many are found in clumps, does it? Or why they are found with things inside of them, like fetuses, partially digested food, rocks even.

And we have to speculate about their bone structure because the bones aren't found all nicely connected. We get things wrong, and correct them, and a whole understanding of a certain dinosaur, previously accepted, becomes irrelevant. When I got home I watched Jurassic Park III, which has a spinosaurus in it, a dinosaur I assumed Spielberg or someone had made up. According to the Discovery Channel, however, the dinosaur is real. The problem is, the only known complete fossil of it was destroyed during WWII. Which is why you don't really hear much about the spinosaurus, as our entire understanding of it is based off of the German scientist's journal.

Knowing this does not dilute my fascination with them. Personally, I trust these paleontologists, and admire them for their years and years of dedicated study. But more than that, I can't forget these beings, these creatures of goliath, of terrifying beauty: they are true excitement. They have never faded but have stretched their existence across millions of years. They are perhaps the truly eternal, and I respect them for it.

Night drive.

Sometimes when I'm driving home late at night, and there is no one on the road, I like to pretend that orca whales are swimming in the lane next to mine, jumping in and out from the asphalt, and, because my car is black and small, they think I'm one of them and they accompany me home.

Velociraptors: Cats in scales.

I recently finished watching Jurassic Parks I and II. I was watching the crew members behind the scenes, creating from bones creatures that had been dead for 65 million years (give or take) and they based the dinosaur movements off of relatives of dinosaurs that are alive today: elephants, giraffes, crocodiles, and rhinos. (It was awesome; they were all running around committing to being the animals.)

Anyways with this in mind I was watching the scene in the second movie where the velociraptors are hiding in the long grass (like the clever girls they are) and I immediately giggled out, "CATS!"to which my sister agreed. Its the way they whip their tails about and crouch down, stalking their prey. And I knew that the film was trying to be accurate and therefore that is definitely how raptors move and I am positive that cats are distant relatives of a direct line.

It makes sense. First, cats enjoy killing for fun. Second, cats stalk their prey. Third, cats eat things while they are still alive. Fourth, they walk on the balls of their feet (and would love heels).

I'm looking into their ability to hunt as a horde (as raptors are known to do).

Raptors wear heels.

Thinking about the fashion show made me think about velociraptors walking the cat walk. And to be honest, that would be more entertaining than anything else coming down the cat walk.

But this leads to the problem of what velociraptors would wear for a fashion show. And I decided they would wear heels. And this is based solely on the way the raptors march around in Jurassic Park.

They're always up on the balls of their feet, right? Which obviously means that they're like Barbie and have feet perfectly molded for heels. Heels are really the only thing that you could be wearing on a night out that wouldn't inhibit you in a fight but actually help you. Personally, the first thing I always say after sliding into my leather heels is "Bam. Ready for damage." You don't want to be on the other end of my heeled boot if I'm on a rampage, and I'm just a tiny lady. Think of the raptor in heels. On a rampage.

Yeah.

So, a velociraptor fashion show would consist of raptors marching down the catwalk in heels (probably brown, because black heels would just clash with their scales, you know? Got to accentuate the scales, not overpower them with a stark black heel. OMG I could totally be a velociraptor fashion designer. Dream job.) And of course the cat walk would be white (at the beginning; later there would more than likely be blood spattered on it--new art!) and the smarter people would be farther away from the catwalk (for safety reasons) but of course the raptors would be on leather leashes that matched their boots. But, you know, they're clever girls, raptors...

It would be the fashion show of all centuries. Obviously.

Oh, it happened.

What you all don't realize is that the Rapture thing was a front. A front. A distraction from the bigger problem. Yes.

Yeah.


Bigger.



Raptor'd.



Across the world people have been raptor'd today in numbers far exceeding the smaller attacks that I have been telling of before now. And we saw it coming. But death is inevitable. So to distract the news, they (whoever is telling you it didn't happen is a 'they') put up a show foretelling the "rapture". A play on words you say? Wouldn't someone be suspicious? No. Because it is best to hide the truth in the open. It is the last place people will look for it.

But I submit to you now a call to arms. The raptors were not just attacking humans. They were attacking larger threats. Is your heart racing? Even if it isn't, those of whom we fear above all else will be able to hear it. Because...THEY'RE BACK. Not just velociraptors: from daemonosauras chauliodus to pterodactyls--and the t-rex should be the least of your worries. The real war has begun.

Join me. I have a few velociraptor prodigies with whom I am working to create a machine of some kind. A living, terrifying, blood thirsty machine.



Hope is useless. Action is all we have.

Velociraptor Pet

Blogging is weird. People, sharing little anecdotes of their life, not face to face, not via published narrative, not like a memoir or a autobiography, just little notes on daily activities that others might find interesting thus they are shared.

That being said, I would like a velociraptor for a pet. (I'm actually surprised I haven't written about pet velociraptors before...I guess I was too concerned with destroying them.)

Reason #1: Better than pepper spray, tasers, and hand guns. Concerned about walking around LA at night? No big deal, I'll have my velociraptor escort me home.

Reason #2: Transportation. I'd make a special saddle for it and we'd run about on the freeway at 50 miles/hour. And if a car cuts us off, my velociraptor eats it, one door at a time. Velociraptors are like tanks. We'd jump over traffic, running along the tops of cars, snapping at the semi trucks just to piss them off.

Reason #3: Vigilante work. (An added benefit: blood is on the creatures teeth instead of your hands.)

Reason #4: No one else has one (that I know of...).

Reason #5: Writing about having one is better than doing homework.

Reason #6: They're sneaky. Like if Gollum was a beast.

Reason #7: Clever girl.

Reason #8: If I had one as a pet, and I got attacked by a horde of them, it would protect me better than my bazooka ever could, and it would probably convince it's horde to join my cause, and then I'd have my own velociraptor horde, and the government would be mega jealous. Of course.

Reason #9: They may not have survived whatever disaster struck earth all those centuries ago, but having been brought back they can tell me what it was and in the off chance it happens again I'll be better prepared.

Reason #10: Scaling buildings.

I know, I know, ten reasons? You only needed one to justify getting one for a pet. Not that I'd ever give away the secret of obtaining a velociraptor pet. Not that I have one...

A Velociraptor Happy Eatser

Yes, Eatser. Today, for these harbingers of death--because they are the last thing you see before actually meeting Death herself--is a day of feasting. Be careful where you are letting the children wander.

Once upon a time, in a grand old land...

EATSER SUNDAY!

(Well, I made Christmas bloody, I'll try my hand at Easter).


Today is a dream for the velociraptor horde. They make their way across the green field, strewn with baby daffodils and dandelions, skipping upon their three toed feet that have foot long curved claws, their tails whipping gaily in the breeze and sunshine, chomping down on the furry creatures running for their lives, skipping some more across the field...if they had lips, they would be whistling.

Life is but a dream...

Velociraptors FTW

Today may or not be Velociraptor Awareness Day; for me, it is always Velociraptor Awareness Day, Velociraptor Awareness Forever. Because velociraptors don't pick just one day to attack you. Every day is "Attack Humans Day" for velociraptors. Especially Christmas.

I think, though, if some other people in the world are, just for today, wisely making themselves aware of the threat, then I should put forth extra effort in the fight against them. I think first I will reference my reader to previous posts--specifically the proper way to use a bazooka during a velociraptor horde attack (posted back in November): http://velociraptorapocalypse.blogspot.com/2010/11/penguin-velociraptor-llama-kill.html

There that's my first step towards the education of this day. Secondly, I would like to remind everyone that fighting is useless in the long run, if they are really out to get you, because, if they are, they will. This day could also be called Remember That You Are Doomed Day.

If you find a baby velociraptor keep it. We are still looking into how much training a dinosaur can take, to aid us in the fight. Perhaps these ruthless creatures can be used as tools.

Fourthly, well, I'll come back and update this later in the day. Good luck not getting eaten.

I think I might as well, in celebration of this day where more than a few people are thinking about dinosaurs all simultaneously, that I will also answer the question people keep asking me (only in part, as it is a complicated question, though it doesn't seem as though it would be) and that question is: Why velociraptors?

My answer is as follows: Power. It is simple enough. I am fascinated by creatures that carried some kind of power. My first and foremost fascination with dinosaurs comes from their power, their strength and goliath size that would easily overwhelm the slight powers of today.  And you might ask why I focus on velociraptors if the more obvious choice would be the largest and, seemingly, most blood-thirsty of the ancient beasts, the t-rex, and that answer, too, is simple: Power of the cunning mind. Excluding the mythologies raised by the Jurassic Park movies, velociraptors, though in actuality being rather small creatures, were cunning. That is where their true strength lies, I think, in that they were much smaller than a t-rex but there is evidence that a group of them would, in the past, take down the monsters for food. As stated in my previous post, or at least alluded to, one of the few things in life I can pin down as being worth striving for is power. We, as a collective human society, look back and only remember figures of power. To say otherwise is almost beyond a comprehensible sentence--what would I say? That we "do not look back and remember... non powerful beings"? It is hard to put the phrase on the tongue, because we remember power. And we remember those who were overpowered, because we focus on how power can be taken. Therefore, I write about velociraptors, because, in my own small way, I can see myself as writing about Power. And I use that as a vehicle for my own feelings and emotions, my own quirks and my own way of seeking humor on a day-to-day basis.

I think that is a simplified version, and it certainly leaves a lot out, a lot unexplained I suppose, but I think it is understandable at least.

However, it should also be said that the figures I find the most despicable in life were the ones solely seeking power. That is one of my fascinations with the whole thing. Why must we seek power? Is there anything else to seek? Why are we such shadows passing between?

I suppose this has taken a turn away from dinosaurs now and become rather self-reflective--and I try not to be self-reflective on this blog--but I felt inclined, for some reason, to share this all. I've been rather self-reflective lately. Perhaps I feel emboldened because most who would read this have become too busy. Perhaps I feel that someone stumbling across this might also be wondering about what it means to be a shadow, engulfed in the shade of others. At any rate, it can't hurt to share, sometimes, some things, I think; and I can always take this back off.

There are no dinosaurs.

None. They do not exist. They never made a come back. There are no velociraptors. There are no pterodactyls. The apocalypse is not coming, is not nigh, is not brought on by velociraptors and formerly extinct gigantic reptiles/flying monsters and such.

We actually live in a world where learning how to defend one's life is not taught, is not even mentioned as a useful skill in most societies. I can't even shoot a gun. I've wielded a minor sword only once. I've never had to defend myself against a dinosaur.

There is nothing to fear. You are all safe.




















April Fools.

The Lost Word

A strange package came to me in the mail today. Wrapped in brown paper, a tyrannosaurus rex was drawn upon the top. Within the package was a large book, similar in size to a bible, with pages gilded in gold and engraved upon the white cover are red leaves and another dinosaur of the aforementioned species. The title is engraved in black: "Jurassic Park: The Lost World."

Even now it sits beside my bed, and my mind races with eagerness and fear. I cannot tell what this could possibly imply...for months now I have been gathering information on my own, desperate for any clue to the suffering and the attacks. Now this book falls into my hands; I fear what knowledge it contains, but even more I fear of it falling into the wrong hands. I've come so close to a discovery, to an alliance even, to a hope...

Unto what world was lost, I now venture into, willingly and with open soul, and of this knowledge that I drink, if any shall prove dangerous to us, the human species, than that I shall withhold, and if any shall prove useful and good than that I shall divulge: you as my witness, my audience, dear reader, friend--trust in me, in this.


Tired now, and restless, never a good combination, wanting to at once run and lie down, move and stand still in the darkness being bothered now by buzzing lights. But I shall read, and read on.