<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1058488363479092505</id><updated>2011-08-10T21:57:39.245-04:00</updated><category term='literature'/><category term='ads'/><category term='commercials'/><category term='technology'/><category term='food'/><category term='What&apos;s Wrong with People?'/><title type='text'>The Well-Read Giraffe</title><subtitle type='html'>I'm tall.  And I like to read.  A lot.  There you go.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Lisa Pritchard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433361520151108413</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/SJuaTgjGcyI/AAAAAAAAABM/R5XJGy1IUco/s1600-R/Lisa%2Band%2BGiraffes.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>14</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1058488363479092505.post-5579602187948505047</id><published>2010-08-29T15:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-29T15:40:41.094-04:00</updated><title type='text'>365 (kinda): 1, 2, 3</title><content type='html'>I have a couple friends who started doing the &lt;a href="http://content.photojojo.com/tutorials/project-365-take-a-photo-a-day/"&gt;365 project&lt;/a&gt; at the beginning of the year, posting photographs and mini-stories about their lives on Facebook for the last several months, missing some days but keeping up with it for the most part.&amp;nbsp; I have found these glimpses into their everyday lives interesting and insightful and have watched as photos vary from the mundane to the artistic to the reflective.&amp;nbsp; Knowing that I often wonder where my year disappears to, I decided to participate in this same photographic reflection process but, instead of beginning on January 1st, I'm going to measure my year beginning with my birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well...I &lt;i&gt;was&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having spent the last week trying to cram a 3 bedroom apartment plus storage into 350 square feet, I haven't really had the time since my birthday on Friday to write anything up.&amp;nbsp; I have taken pictures, though.&amp;nbsp; This will&amp;nbsp; be a posting for the last few days all in one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;August 27, 2010 - Day 1&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/THqyV71907I/AAAAAAAAAFY/xrkHiEpSNHI/s1600/1.0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/THqyV71907I/AAAAAAAAAFY/xrkHiEpSNHI/s320/1.0.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;This is a photograph of the stained glass window in the living room of our new apartment in the dorm.&amp;nbsp; It's a fleur de lys so it's perfect for us Francophile Saints Fans and the light that comes through it in the afternoon is gorgeous.&amp;nbsp; I took this at 6 in the morning when I couldn't sleep because I was so panicked about finishing moving (we haven't yet.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/THqytVSy8KI/AAAAAAAAAFg/oMwus0xraS8/s1600/1.1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/THqytVSy8KI/AAAAAAAAAFg/oMwus0xraS8/s320/1.1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;This is the initial clutter in the room from the first night we stayed at the dorm - you get a better idea of how the stained glass looks in this photo.&amp;nbsp; It has since gotten worse (see below.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/THqyvSaouGI/AAAAAAAAAFo/zVgGxHyhNHU/s1600/1.2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/THqyvSaouGI/AAAAAAAAAFo/zVgGxHyhNHU/s320/1.2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;These are the &lt;a href="http://www.zillycakes.com/"&gt;Zillycakes&lt;/a&gt; that Billy bought me as a birthday cake to make up for the fact that, with the move, we could no longer go on the weekend trip we had been planning.&amp;nbsp; I had purchased two tickets to see &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001626/"&gt;Captain Von Trapp&lt;/a&gt; himself in &lt;i&gt;The Tempest&lt;/i&gt; in Stratford, Ontario but they were for the 8pm showing so we would have had to drive the three hours to get there, see the play, stay in a hotel, and come back the next morning.&amp;nbsp; This wasn't feasible considering we hadn't entirely moved out of our apartment and the girls were supposed to move in on the 29th.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zillycakes has an awesome cupcake bar so Billy got me a veritable buffet here.&amp;nbsp; The top left one is Sangria, the bottom left is peach amaretto, the top right is red velvet cake, and the bottom right is Rocky Road.&amp;nbsp; They are awesome!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/THqyxaPTw-I/AAAAAAAAAFw/oG2ISwMLu-g/s1600/1.5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/THqyxaPTw-I/AAAAAAAAAFw/oG2ISwMLu-g/s320/1.5.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;After having to forgo our trip to Stratford, we went out to dinner with our friends Kristin and Mike to Dave &amp;amp; Buster's (classy!) I am a fan of skee-ball and this is Kristin playing her favorite game - Deal or No Deal.&amp;nbsp; She especially likes yelling, "No Deal!"&amp;nbsp; It tickles me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;August 28, 2010 - Day 2&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/THqyzUCqJdI/AAAAAAAAAF4/ZwgivaSjL1I/s1600/2.0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/THqyzUCqJdI/AAAAAAAAAF4/ZwgivaSjL1I/s320/2.0.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;The clutter.&amp;nbsp; You try condensing a three bedroom apartment to a living room and a bedroom and we'll talk.&amp;nbsp; I don't know when this is going to get unpacked.&amp;nbsp; Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;August 29, 2010 - Day 3&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/THqy02ngQoI/AAAAAAAAAGA/_2DnfOfsBxM/s1600/3.0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/THqy02ngQoI/AAAAAAAAAGA/_2DnfOfsBxM/s320/3.0.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;This is the chair in the common room that I've been sitting in all day in between helping students move in and giving mini-tours to current Sem people, students, etc.&amp;nbsp; I got a little lesson planning done so that's something, I suppose...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is going to be a rough year, isn't it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1058488363479092505-5579602187948505047?l=wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/5579602187948505047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1058488363479092505&amp;postID=5579602187948505047' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/5579602187948505047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/5579602187948505047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/2010/08/365-kinda-1-2-3.html' title='365 (kinda): 1, 2, 3'/><author><name>Lisa Pritchard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433361520151108413</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/SJuaTgjGcyI/AAAAAAAAABM/R5XJGy1IUco/s1600-R/Lisa%2Band%2BGiraffes.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/THqyV71907I/AAAAAAAAAFY/xrkHiEpSNHI/s72-c/1.0.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1058488363479092505.post-1704969347213505032</id><published>2010-07-17T21:25:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-21T22:07:19.351-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='commercials'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ads'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='What&apos;s Wrong with People?'/><title type='text'>What's Wrong with People?!: Bodily Function Commercials</title><content type='html'>So I've decided that I'm going to start a new series of posts entitled, "What's Wrong with People?!" for those moments when you really do wonder what people are thinking.&amp;nbsp; Think of this as a more elaborate version of the &lt;a href="http://failblog.org/"&gt;FAIL blog.&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, granted, I've done and said some things that might cause someone to ask this question about me but, you have to admit, there are some instances where this question is warranted, whether it be for the sheer stupidity involved or simply what I like to call the "did that really just happen?" factor.&amp;nbsp; So, with a disclaimer about the fact that I may not have the authority to put myself in this position of judgment, let's forge ahead, shall we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day, I was watching television - I believe it was something on the Travel Channel, probably Anthony Bourdain - and this ad for Charmin comes on.&amp;nbsp; You may be familiar with the series of ads featuring those supposedly adorable bears in funny situations involving going to the bathroom.&amp;nbsp; Okay fine.&amp;nbsp; They're cute, we're familiar with them, they recognize how important toilet paper is to everyday life, I can handle that.&amp;nbsp; The commercial in question involved a bear cub going through "inspection" with his mother.&amp;nbsp; Paws? Check.&amp;nbsp; Teeth?&amp;nbsp; Check.&amp;nbsp; Bottom?&amp;nbsp; "Needs work!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really?&amp;nbsp; We have to be told that Charmin Ultra Strong toilet paper doesn't leave uncomfortable wads of tissue stuck to your behind after you wipe?&amp;nbsp; And I could even handle the concept if they didn't show us a visual of them stuck to the bear's rear end while he jauntily wags his stubby tail back and forth.&amp;nbsp; Quite frankly, I've see more disgusting cartoons (bodily function scenes in South Park come to mind) and, until the end of the ad, none of this had really bothered me.&amp;nbsp; I've seen these before.&amp;nbsp; No big deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No - it was the tag line that got me.&amp;nbsp; "Charmin: Enjoy the Go."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pause.&amp;nbsp; Let that sink in for a minute.&amp;nbsp; Enjoy the go?&amp;nbsp; When did it become good marketing strategy to tell people that your toilet paper is the one to buy because they will enjoy wiping their butts so thoroughly using your product that they can't wait to go again?&amp;nbsp; Next they'll make the little bears happily come down with diarrhea just so they have an excuse to use more toilet paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's not the worst of it.&amp;nbsp; Other commercials involving bodily functions are upping the ante and growing more bold and less afraid of societal taboos every day.&amp;nbsp; Take Huggies, for example.&amp;nbsp; Watch this &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sQ0M9CBEkw0&amp;amp;feature=player_embedded"&gt;video&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="385" width="640"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/sQ0M9CBEkw0&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/sQ0M9CBEkw0&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you see the slogan at the end?&amp;nbsp; Yep.&amp;nbsp; That's right.&amp;nbsp; "Huggies: The coolest you'll ever look pooping your pants."&amp;nbsp; How is this okay?&amp;nbsp; I'm all for getting rid of embarrassment and perceived restrictions on discussing something as personal as going to the bathroom, but this is pushing it, even for a baby who doesn't yet understand the concept of privacy.&amp;nbsp; It's more, how can I say this....gross.&amp;nbsp; Maybe it's wrong for me to eat my dinner on the couch with my husband while watching television.&amp;nbsp; Maybe this is my punishment for not sitting at the table, but, honestly, I nearly spit out the food I was eating. You can sell diapers without talking about poop.&amp;nbsp; That's all I have to say about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's move on to other bodily functions.&amp;nbsp; Again, I'm glad that it's becoming okay to talk about things like overactive bladder or heartburn or erectile dysfunction.&amp;nbsp; (Not poop, though.&amp;nbsp; Still not okay with that.)&amp;nbsp; Many people suffered through these problems in the past because they were too uncomfortable to discuss these things with their doctors, let alone anyone else.&amp;nbsp; But these advertising companies have got to approach these things differently.&amp;nbsp; Take Cialis - similar to Viagra if you didn't know - as an example.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, let me say that, in the realm of erectile dysfunction drug commercials, Cialis takes the high road compared to Viagra.&amp;nbsp; That whole blue horns thing that they pulled a few years back was uncouth and uncalled for.&amp;nbsp; However, Cialis isn't much better.&amp;nbsp; You can add romance to your story and make the characters in your commercial frolic in California Wine Country before settling down for an evening of passionate love-making courtesy of this supposed wonder drug in an attempt to make your consumers think your drug is upscale and classy.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I'm fine with that.&amp;nbsp; I get that you're trying to talk about sex without really talking about sex because, let's face it, the less we can talk about erectile dysfunction, the better.&amp;nbsp; No, my problem is the logistics of it all.&amp;nbsp; Take a look at the theme of the Cialis commercials that is also the symbol for their product:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/TEJP0XLiaYI/AAAAAAAAAFI/weacFoCliVA/s1600/Cialis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/TEJP0XLiaYI/AAAAAAAAAFI/weacFoCliVA/s320/Cialis.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Awww, isn't that cute?&amp;nbsp; They're in matching bathtubs.&amp;nbsp; And they're free-standing, clawfooted bathtubs so they're classy.&amp;nbsp; And, frequently, the aforementioned characters are featured in the aforementioned classy bathtubs in an empty field somewhere or up on a hill overlooking the skyline of some exotic city at sunset.&amp;nbsp; Romantic, right?&amp;nbsp; But, wait a minute, this is a commercial about sex.&amp;nbsp; Don't you need to be in the same bathtub for that?&amp;nbsp; This is my problem - they've tried to steer so far away from the topic that they've physically separated the two people preparing to participate in the very act that the drug is supposed to assist with.&amp;nbsp; Maybe this is supposed to represent the idea that, with 36-hour Cialis, you don't have to be forced into the same bathtub any sooner than you want to.&amp;nbsp; You can stare at a skyline instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my opinion, Canada got it right.&amp;nbsp; A few years ago, we were in Toronto and I was watching television in the hotel room before going to sleep.&amp;nbsp; A Cialis commercial came on, but I had no idea that was the focus because this particular ad did not resemble the ones we're used to in the slightest.&amp;nbsp; I'll try to describe it since I can't find a copy of the video online.&amp;nbsp; As with many things in Canada (and, yes, I'm being stereotypical here) it began with hockey.&amp;nbsp; There was a group of men in their fifties playing weekend hockey.&amp;nbsp; Several of their wives were looking on from the bleachers.&amp;nbsp; One of the men loses his footing on the ice and slips, twisting his ankle in his skate.&amp;nbsp; His wife makes an, "Oh, no, I'm sorry, honey" face.&amp;nbsp; She wraps her arm around his shoulder as they leave the arena, waving goodbye to everyone else who is wishing him a quick recovery.&amp;nbsp; As they shuffle toward the car, halfway through the parking lot they pause.&amp;nbsp; They both look around to make sure no one is watching.&amp;nbsp; He stands up straight, brushes off his pants, stops limping, and the two quickly pile into their SUV to drive off and, presumably, make use of his new Cialis prescription.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reason I like this one is because, not only is the ad making fun of its own product to some extent, but it also assumes that the audience will get the joke.&amp;nbsp; In the US, a lot of advertisers have to lay everything out for consumers, betting that we're too stupid to know what they're talking about.&amp;nbsp; This commercial gave consumers a wink saying, "We know what you're using it for.&amp;nbsp; Here's one way to enjoy it."&amp;nbsp; Less pandering, more creativity is the way to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example - Kotex gets it.&amp;nbsp; I never thought I'd be praising a tampon company, but they understand that women aren't stupid and they don't need to be tricked into buying a specific type of tampon.&amp;nbsp; Check these out:&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lpypeLL1dAs"&gt;Ad 1&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="385" width="480"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/lpypeLL1dAs&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/lpypeLL1dAs&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QOM4AMV050A"&gt;Ad 2&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="385" width="640"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/QOM4AMV050A&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/QOM4AMV050A&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think both of these put into words what I can't.&amp;nbsp; They respect women's intelligence and actually call out other companies that don't.&amp;nbsp; (For example, have you seen those Tampax ads with Annie Potts as Mother Nature?&amp;nbsp; Please.) Charmin, Huggies, and Cialis should take notes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1058488363479092505-1704969347213505032?l=wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/1704969347213505032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1058488363479092505&amp;postID=1704969347213505032' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/1704969347213505032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/1704969347213505032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/2010/07/whats-wrong-with-people-bodily-function.html' title='What&apos;s Wrong with People?!: Bodily Function Commercials'/><author><name>Lisa Pritchard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433361520151108413</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/SJuaTgjGcyI/AAAAAAAAABM/R5XJGy1IUco/s1600-R/Lisa%2Band%2BGiraffes.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/TEJP0XLiaYI/AAAAAAAAAFI/weacFoCliVA/s72-c/Cialis.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1058488363479092505.post-2774076192668826232</id><published>2010-07-01T13:50:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-13T21:31:40.639-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='technology'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='literature'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Context and How it is Changing</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/TCzVNyMoFQI/AAAAAAAAAFA/OWcOMJ1AhYo/s1600/home_book.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/TCzVNyMoFQI/AAAAAAAAAFA/OWcOMJ1AhYo/s320/home_book.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I went to a book signing by &lt;a href="http://www.laurenbelfer.com/"&gt;Lauren Belfer&lt;/a&gt;  for her new book &lt;i&gt;A Fierce Radiance&lt;/i&gt; at Borders on Thursday and she mentioned something that I thought was quite interesting.  If anyone takes the time to read this, I'd love to know your thoughts on the topic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The book is historical fiction and is about the process of discovering and developing penicillin.  It took Belfer eight years to research and write the story and much of her research process involved looking at old &lt;i&gt;Life&lt;/i&gt; magazines and issues of &lt;i&gt;The New York Times&lt;/i&gt;.  She pointed out that, now, it's possible to simply search the &lt;i&gt;Times&lt;/i&gt; website for the information you're looking for but that, even though it's more cumbersome, she prefers to use microfilm to view the original documents because it provides context.  She gave the example of reading an article during the time period in which she's writing and turning the page to find that there was a sale at Nordstrom that week on shoes; she might then include a side note in the story about the character having to run to the store to buy new shoes while they're on sale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Granted, this is a sort of trivial example but it makes sense.  What if she had been researching an article, turned the page, and came across another, small article mentioning the rise of burglaries in a neighborhood at that time that concerned the people living in that area.  Let's say that her character lived there - it would flesh out that character to have her mention that she is also concerned about the recent thefts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that what I'm trying to get at is, are we losing context with the developments we've had in technology over the last few decades or is our context simply different?  If I'm reading the newspaper online, my experience will be very individualized.  If there's a pop-up ad or an ad on the website itself, it will be tailored to the date, time, and, in most cases, my preferences.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cookies know that I've been searching for an airline flight from Phoenix to Buffalo for my friend Kim so that, when I'm on certain websites, a Travelocity ad will show up talking about discounts on that particular flight.  If I refresh the page, the ad might change to one about the Nook being on sale at Barnes and Noble.  If someone twenty years in the future wants to search for and read that same article that I was reading, the ads will be different or not included.  Does that eliminate the historical context?  How would we change the way we examine this information?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Oh, and, as a side note on the topic of context...why is it that sponge cake loses all flavor when placed in the context of a Chinese buffet restaurant?  Even more importantly, why does it look so appetizing?  Why are people, knowing it has no flavor and that the experience will ultimately be disappointing, still drawn to eat it?)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1058488363479092505-2774076192668826232?l=wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/2774076192668826232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1058488363479092505&amp;postID=2774076192668826232' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/2774076192668826232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/2774076192668826232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/2010/07/context-and-how-it-is-changing.html' title='Context and How it is Changing'/><author><name>Lisa Pritchard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433361520151108413</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/SJuaTgjGcyI/AAAAAAAAABM/R5XJGy1IUco/s1600-R/Lisa%2Band%2BGiraffes.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/TCzVNyMoFQI/AAAAAAAAAFA/OWcOMJ1AhYo/s72-c/home_book.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1058488363479092505.post-8881093989469459976</id><published>2009-07-14T21:26:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T19:09:14.223-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I love the South...I hate the South...I love the South...I hate the South...</title><content type='html'>I don't know why I think this won't happen every time I return to the South but it does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me clarify - ever since moving back up to Buffalo or "above the Mason-Dixon line" as many people have called it, I've been waiting for an excuse to move back or at least visit the South.  There are many friends and family members that offer us that opportunity, especially since my parents have decided to retire in Tennessee.  Even though we can't afford to travel to visit people as often as we would like, we try to do so on a regular basis.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Knowing that we would be spending a month traversing much of Louisiana and some of Tennessee (along with all the routes between those locations) I have been looking forward to this trip for quite some time.  When it was still snowing in April I wanted to leave right then and there.  When it was 64 degrees one day &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;the first week of July&lt;/span&gt; (somewhat of an anomaly but annoying nonetheless) I was ready to tear my hair out, leave my job, and move down south to work at Wal-Mart with the hope that at least thawing out would make my life less soul-crushing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Items on my list I had been looking forward to: &lt;/span&gt; Community coffee, a slower pace of life, faster speed limits on the interstate, beignets, southern-style cooking, our friends - Hunter and Cami's - wedding, seeing friends and family, Popeye's, Sonic, warmth, sweet tea, Albert's hot sauce, New Orleans (for a myriad of reasons too numerous and ephemeral to mention here), Super Wal-marts, a list of other favorite foods that I can't even remember but can't wait to sink my teeth into (despite the inevitable weight gain), people who are actually polite (god forbid), everything fried, and a host of other things that I'm forgetting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Items I had forgotten that I hate about the south:&lt;/span&gt; more obvious racism than up North, Bible-thumpers and "Jesus Krispies," the pandemic of passive aggressiveness that infuses most conversations (everyone's polite but they may stab you in the back and you'll never know it), massive traffic, the heat (I can't breathe when I walk outside due to asthma), blind-knee-jerk conservatives (I don't care if you're conservative as long as you've done your research and have well-thought-out reasoning - I hold all liberals to the same standard), Super Wal-marts, vegetables that taste like meat (though Billy says that's the only way he really likes them), everything fried, and a bunch of other things that I'm probably forgetting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bottom line is that I don't feel like I fit in anywhere anymore. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; When I'm in Buffalo, I feel like I'm just waiting - like I'm not living there, just visiting.  I don't move fast enough for life up there and I don't play the society/political games that a lot of people participate in.  Though I appreciate the hippy-dippyism, I would prefer that people in Buffalo focus less on whether or not their food has been purchased from an organic, local grower and more on the fact that their city is an economic black hole.  (I'm sorry but Bass Pro Shops is not a panacea.  Get over it people.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I'm down here, specifically in Louisiana since I consider myself to be partially from Louisiana since I lived here for about 7 years, I feel like I haven't reset to the pace yet.  Have you ever had one of those days when you feel like you're running a few seconds faster or slower than everyone else?  It's like that but all the time here.  I also tend to be a bit more direct and eschew the passive-aggressive way of conversing down here which tends to get me weird looks and causes me to walk away from most conversations feeling awkward and wondering what I could have said differently.  I also have to bite my tongue.  A LOT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, this has been a good vacation/trip so far but it reminds me that I still feel like  a visitor wherever I go.  Since we're not "settling down" anywhere until Billy finishes the PhD I suppose I'll have to get used to that.  Oh well.  In the meantime, I'll enjoy eating my way through Louisiana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/Sl-xL2trYiI/AAAAAAAAADo/n-QNieLRiHI/s1600-h/PICT1777.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/Sl-xL2trYiI/AAAAAAAAADo/n-QNieLRiHI/s320/PICT1777.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359196898817958434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Billy's Breakfast This Morning: Bananas Foster French Toast&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS - The title of this post is courtesy of one of Billy's former professors at Ole Miss.  It was his summary of every Faulkner novel ever written.  I thought it was fitting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1058488363479092505-8881093989469459976?l=wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/8881093989469459976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1058488363479092505&amp;postID=8881093989469459976' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/8881093989469459976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/8881093989469459976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-love-southi-hate-southi-love-southi.html' title='I love the South...I hate the South...I love the South...I hate the South...'/><author><name>Lisa Pritchard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433361520151108413</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/SJuaTgjGcyI/AAAAAAAAABM/R5XJGy1IUco/s1600-R/Lisa%2Band%2BGiraffes.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/Sl-xL2trYiI/AAAAAAAAADo/n-QNieLRiHI/s72-c/PICT1777.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1058488363479092505.post-8483813612484537736</id><published>2009-02-14T21:20:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T21:21:48.847-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Succumbing to Peer Pressure</title><content type='html'>I decided to break down and fill out the famous "25 Random Things About Me" note from Facebook.  It actually turned out pretty well so I've posted it below:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25 Random things about me that I avoided posting until now, but since everyone else has taken the time to do it, I feel compelled to join the lemmings:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.) One of my guilty pleasures is dance movies, especially ballet ones. Even better are when the ballet dancers make forays into hip hop and/or ice skating. Another guilty pleasure is to sop up Olive Garden dressing with a breadstick. Yet a third is emptying the lint trap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.) I dream of writing and publishing a novel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.) I am terribly insecure and have very low self-esteem. As a result I am constantly and probably unnecessarily worried about what other people think of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.) Playing the piano is the only thing I can screw up at that doesn’t bother me. I took lessons for two years in high school and I’m pretty bad but it helps me to de-stress. (Unfortunately, all I have is a crappy, old-school keyboard that is in the attic right now.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.) I have an uncanny and completely useless ability to construct small costumes for my stuffed turkey. I also excel at creating animals out of garbage bags (ask me about the activities board in college.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.) I sometimes wonder what it would be like to be shorter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.) For some reason, I still enjoy being tall, even though I complain about it a lot. And even though it’s difficult to find pants that are long enough and size 12 shoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.) Somehow, I knew I would end up marrying my husband before we even started dating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.) I am extremely clumsy but, if you choreograph something for me, I can manage to be graceful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.) I bake when I’m stressed. For some reason, measuring things out and following a recipe helps to calm me down. Unfortunately, that’s also why I’m overweight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11.) I would probably be a vegetarian if it weren’t for chicken fingers. And bacon. Damn you tasty animals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12.) When I was a kid I wanted to be a librarian just to have an excuse to be around books all day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13.) Instead of an imaginary friend I had an imaginary older sister because I was kind of lonely being an only child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14.) I think I’m a southerner at heart and can’t wait to move back there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15.) My husband is my best friend and the highlight of my day is coming home and talking to him about my day and asking him about his.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16.) I am very, very observant. I frequently try to hide this for fear that I will say too much or say the wrong thing. I have a hard time believing when people say they didn’t notice something and often wonder if they’re just playing dumb. As a result of this ability, I often have to pretend to be surprised about something when I’m really not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17.) My husband proposed in Paris and it was the second most romantic thing he did for me (although it was pretty impressive.) The first most romantic thing he’s done for me is to show up on my doorstep when I was sick with a can of soup, a carton of orange juice, a pint of Godiva ice cream, and a rose he picked/stole from a garden on our college campus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18.) I have a bad habit of chewing the skin around my nails. For some reason I leave the nails alone, but I can’t stand when my cuticles peel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19.) I really want to have children one day but, right now, I often cringe when I see a child in public. Working at an all-girls high school and hearing screeching voices throughout the day is quite possibly the best birth control ever invented.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20.) I am a major Francophile. I want to live in France again one day though preferably not in Lille which is grayer and windier than Buffalo. As much as I bitched and moaned every day that I lived there, I think about it with nostalgia almost every day since I’ve been back. And that was nearly 5 years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21.) I know way more than I should about football. I started watching it when I was tutoring student-athletes at Ole Miss because it made it easier to relate to them. Now it’s become a bit of an obsession. For example, I should not know that the spread offense is impressive in college but does not always allow a quarterback to easily transition into the NFL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22.) I have a list of several jobs that I would like to do at least once if I had the chance. They are: stand-up comedian; actress; screenplay writer; jazz/blues singer (particularly if I get to lounge on a piano); professional badminton player; crime scene investigator; FBI agent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23.) I grew up Catholic and went to Catholic school which results in a lot of guilt and a great desire for structure and organization. I secretly yearn for that environment again even though I disagree so strongly with pretty much everything the church believes in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24.) I have seen every episode of the following shows: Golden Girls, Charmed, The Cosby Show, Medium, CSI (reruns – I have to catch up on this season), That 70s Show, and The X-Files. In fact, I can give you the name of an X-Files episode and the season in which it takes place based solely on Scully’s hairstyle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25.) I can’t grow my hair longer than an inch or two below my shoulders. I’ve tried. It doesn’t work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26.) I don’t always follow the rules, as much as it may seem like I try to. I just couldn’t resist. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1058488363479092505-8483813612484537736?l=wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/8483813612484537736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1058488363479092505&amp;postID=8483813612484537736' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/8483813612484537736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/8483813612484537736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/2009/02/succumbing-to-peer-pressure.html' title='Succumbing to Peer Pressure'/><author><name>Lisa Pritchard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433361520151108413</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/SJuaTgjGcyI/AAAAAAAAABM/R5XJGy1IUco/s1600-R/Lisa%2Band%2BGiraffes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1058488363479092505.post-7960999833291641299</id><published>2008-11-06T20:51:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:17:07.384-05:00</updated><title type='text'>...and again</title><content type='html'>Those of you who check my blog when I bother to update it know that I must be up in arms right now since - god forbid - I'm making two posts in two nights.  However, I'm frustrated and sad and angry and have no idea how to deal with it other than to toss it all out onto the page in a jumbled mess and hope that it at least weighs on my mind less heavily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today Billy and I decided to run some errands at the local mall.  No big deal, right?  I needed a few more shirts for work and those of you who know me well are aware of what a pain it is for me, a 6'1" female, to find clothing that fits properly so this was actually a somewhat annoying trip to begin with.  Unable to find what I was looking for, we decided to head home. Weaving our way through the mall, we came to a sort of roadblock.  There was a woman pushing a stroller and, simultaneously, attempting to drag her toddler along with her.  He was much more interested in the sticker he had just found and was trying to apply it to his shirt.  At the same time, a few paces ahead, a group of about six teenage boys were fooling around, joking with each other, and one of them had been shoving his friend which blocked the pathway for both Billy and me and the woman and her child. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoping to get out of the way of the whole group, I muttered an, "Excuse me," and tried to scoot by two of the boys and outpace the woman with the stroller when one of the boys was nearly shoved into me.  At that point, another one of the group said, "Careful, these McCain voters would like to get through."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Did I mention these young men were black?  I was concerned about even bringing it up since, by even recounting this incident, I run the risk of sounding racist.  However, in this case, I suppose I have to mention it to provide context for the story.  As an aside, the woman and her son were very white and she looked like she was afraid of the group of boys which didn't help &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;our&lt;/span&gt; situation any.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I whirled around, shocked, turned in the direction of the voice and firmly stated, "Excuse me, but I voted for Obama."  I then proceeded to storm off, not really paying attention to whether or not Billy was behind me.  When he caught up with me he said that one of the boys had pointed to the aforementioned speaker and said, "It was him, man."  To which Billy replied, "I voted for Obama too," before coming after me.  I was fuming and trying not to cry at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way home, Billy told me that the one kid looked kind of suprised that I talked back to him and his friends kind of stared at him like he was dumb for even saying anything so I suppose I feel a little better about that.  I keep thinking about all the things I wanted to say instead.  Like, "Apparently you're unaware that a comment like that will likely result in resistance since Bush currently has a mere 26% approval rating."  Or, "How old are you?  Can you even vote yet? No? Then don't tell me who &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; voted for."  Or even, "Yeah, right.  Did you even know who Barack Obama was three years ago?  Well, I did.  And I supported him then.  Have you read his book?  No? Well I have.  Perhaps your time would be better spent doing that than harrassing people you don't know in a crappy suburban mall.  And, quite honestly, just because you're black and I'm not doesn't mean you have any more of a claim to President-elect Obama than I do, especially since, as a uniter, he would frown upon your actions right now.  So go get your shit together and then come talk to me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have a hell of a lot more to say except that I hope my tiny, pathetic, little retort made him think for a millisecond.  And maybe that millisecond will turn into a whole minute and then an hour and then, just maybe, he'll do something productive with his time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I don't feel much better but at least I've gotten this off my chest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1058488363479092505-7960999833291641299?l=wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/7960999833291641299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1058488363479092505&amp;postID=7960999833291641299' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/7960999833291641299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/7960999833291641299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/2008/11/and-again.html' title='...and again'/><author><name>Lisa Pritchard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433361520151108413</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/SJuaTgjGcyI/AAAAAAAAABM/R5XJGy1IUco/s1600-R/Lisa%2Band%2BGiraffes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1058488363479092505.post-800471824674165680</id><published>2008-11-05T19:47:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T21:10:29.976-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sigh</title><content type='html'>I didn't quite know what to name this post so that pretty much covers it.  I also am unsure as to whether I'll actually post it or not but, assuming I do, I'm exhausted tonight so I apologize if my writing is a bit lackluster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was supposed to be a good day.  The presidential candidate I had voted for and supported was elected and, last night, I think I slept better than I have for the past four years.  Not only did I feel relieved about our country's choice for our next president, but I also felt hope about the direction we're going in for the first time in what feels like forever.  Hell, even John McCain gave a classy concession speech which was reminiscent of John McCain before the Bush administration took over in 2000 - the John McCain I would have considered voting for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The morning went fairly well.  I was tired from staying up late to watch the election (and, in addition, we were at my cousin's party for his election as Niagara County Sheriff until 11:30 and then had to drive for half an hour to get home) but I was happy.  I even gave out leftover Halloween candy to my Autobiography students as incentives to read their journals aloud since I was feeling generous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then came lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, actually, I almost didn't make it to lunch because of all the drama that lay in my path to the cafeteria.  Eight of my seniors stormed into the classroom fuming and demanding that something be done about "this."  "This" turned out to be a status update that one of the freshmen had made to her Facebook page.  The update said, "The white house is called the white house for a reason!!!!!"  (I've quoted it exactly, right down to the five exclamation points.)  In addition to this, there was a flood of follow-up comments, some along the lines of what the original writer had to say, and others condemning her opinion.  For those of you who are familiar with Facebook, you may understand what a heated issue this is based on the fact that there were  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;four &lt;/span&gt;pages worth of follow-up comments to a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;status update&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Granted, I am aware of the fact that, teaching at an all-girls private school, I might occasionally run into some rather, let's say, sheltered individuals.  Okay, frankly, some of them have too much time on their hands, too much money in their bank accounts, and too little interest in exploring whether or not agreeing with their parents, without question, is a good idea.  This frustrates me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, instead, I was appalled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't even have the words or the stamina to describe how this made me feel and, on top of that, looking at the anger and sadness on the girls' faces over these comments made me want to rip this girl's head off for being ignorant and uninformed and having the gall to mouth off about it in a public forum.  The thing that frustrated one of my students the most was that, when questioned, the "commenter's" only explanation for her statement was that "there are only white ppl. there for over 200 yrs."  Logical, no?  Insert eye-roll here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since this entire conversation was in violation of the social honor code (oh, and did I mention that this student also belongs to an online group that bashes and gossips about another girl in her class?) I spoke to the Dean of Students about what the girls had brought to my attention.  The school called an impromptu assembly between 6th and 7th period to bring the matter to the school's attention - even though, by that point, it was no secret - and point out that behavior such as this would not be tolerated.  They didn't do much, although the "commenter" will be going before the Judicial Review Committee, but the threat was in the air.  I disagree with the idea that they may have to block certain elements of internet access since we aim to treat the students as adults and cutting off this type of thing in school just means they'll do it when they're not in school but we may have to resort to that.  At least we didn't sweep it under the rug like we have a tendency to want to do, especially since it involves more than one individual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess what I'm saying is that, I knew this type of thing would happen.  I knew that not everyone would be as optimistic and forward-looking as I wanted them to be.  I knew there would be challenges.  But the very next day after the election?  Don't we Obama supporters get some chance at a honeymoon period?  Can't we enjoy the victory for one freaking day?  I guess our country isn't as progressive as we'd like to think we are if this kind of prejudice still exists the day after we elect our first African-American president ever.  Ah, irony....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And on top of this, I have to teach this girl in class tomorrow and act like nothing ever happened.  When I came home and was yelling about this, my parents, who were visiting to support my cousin, made a good point.  They said, "What would Obama do in a situation like this?"  I guess I have to remove my emotions from the situation and put the school, the students, and, though difficult, this particular student above my personal opinions because it's what's best for everyone.  I will aim to treat her as I have before this information came to a head and press on with teaching grammar, vocabulary, and literature.  The main goal of the English Department at Sem is to teach these girls to be eloquent writers and communicators by the time they graduate.  Well, if I can't convince this girl to change her point of view, at least I can teach her to argue it with supporting facts, information, and conviction.  "Yes we can."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1058488363479092505-800471824674165680?l=wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/800471824674165680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1058488363479092505&amp;postID=800471824674165680' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/800471824674165680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/800471824674165680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/2008/11/sigh.html' title='Sigh'/><author><name>Lisa Pritchard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433361520151108413</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/SJuaTgjGcyI/AAAAAAAAABM/R5XJGy1IUco/s1600-R/Lisa%2Band%2BGiraffes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1058488363479092505.post-8372947305146491572</id><published>2008-09-10T08:23:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-10T08:43:19.329-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Following your gut instinct when it comes to losing your gut</title><content type='html'>It looks like I made the right impulse decision for once in my life yesterday.  After work, I decided I needed to stop in the gym at the school to do some physical therapy exercises to prevent my useless back from continuing to wake me up in the middle of the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(This was in lieu of going to a meeting that was scheduled to re-inform us about the benefits that we should be receiving from the school.  Considering that I'm on Billy's stellar "we're sorry you're only a grad student but we're going to make it up to you by giving you better medical insurance than you'll ever have again in your life" plan, I don't need to be "re-informed."  That and I'm not eligible to get matching for what I put away for retirement until next year so the only "benefit" I was interested in getting yesterday was a better night of sleep.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, when I got there I was talking to our awesome Assistant Athletic Director - slash - Assistant Golf Coach - slash - ridiculously cool Yoga instructor and she invited me to do yoga with the golf team.  Now, last year, I would have stayed away from the thought for fear that my students would find me in a compromising position and then proceed to make fun of me and lack respect for me for the rest of the year.  This time, though, I went for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really glad I did.  Not only did I feel better, have fun, and somewhat gain respect in the eyes of my students (it helped that I was more coordinated than most of them), but I also learned how to do a headstand which is a neat thing to be able to pick up in a matter of an hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/SMfAvWTW5zI/AAAAAAAAADY/KEb0IXihMnw/s1600-h/clown_image_400_w.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 140px; height: 129px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/SMfAvWTW5zI/AAAAAAAAADY/KEb0IXihMnw/s200/clown_image_400_w.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244372210769389362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It turns out that I also benefited in other ways.  When I came back up to my classroom to pick up my stuff I ran into everybody who had taken the time to go to the benefits meeting.  Everyone was aggravated, frustrated, and said that it had been a waste of their time.  It looks like my rare decision to go for instant gratification instead of practicality won out for once in my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1058488363479092505-8372947305146491572?l=wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/8372947305146491572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1058488363479092505&amp;postID=8372947305146491572' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/8372947305146491572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/8372947305146491572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/2008/09/following-your-gut-instinct-when-it.html' title='Following your gut instinct when it comes to losing your gut'/><author><name>Lisa Pritchard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433361520151108413</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/SJuaTgjGcyI/AAAAAAAAABM/R5XJGy1IUco/s1600-R/Lisa%2Band%2BGiraffes.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/SMfAvWTW5zI/AAAAAAAAADY/KEb0IXihMnw/s72-c/clown_image_400_w.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1058488363479092505.post-8333261736988039490</id><published>2008-08-27T21:37:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-27T22:45:24.326-04:00</updated><title type='text'>New Year's Resolution</title><content type='html'>So, today is my birthday.  I'm 27.  At first, I thought I would be depressed about that because it means that I'm one year closer to the dreaded thirty.  It turns out that it's not that bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I woke up today I came to the decision that I'm no longer going to treat January 1st as my new year.  My new year is now going to begin on August 27th.  It makes sense if you think about where I'm at in my life right now.  The academic year begins not long after my birthday (next week) every year and I've always thought of starting school, or work in this case, as a marker for each year.  It feels like I have the opportunity for renewal and self-improvement so I'm going to take advantage of it.  I have difficulty following through with my New Year's resolutions every year so, maybe, if I shift my new year to my own, personal new year, I'll be more invested in the effort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent much of the day with the intent of starting over.  My resolution for this year is to live more in the present.  I'm trying to let go of everything that I allow to weigh me down every day - anger, frustration, stress, worry, guilt - and a laundry list of other items that I tell myself are important but really just hold me back.  I intend to have reasonable expectations for my own abilities in order to allow myself to achieve something each and every day rather than feeling guilty for not getting enough done.  I plan on approaching problems as challenges rather than impossibilities.  And, most importantly, I will appreciate myself for who I am and not focus on everything that I am not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided to try and make all of this official with a little visualization this morning.  Some of you may find this to be a little too much personal information for you so I recommend averting your eyes now.  When I was getting ready in the shower this morning before heading out for a day of pampering courtesy of my friend Kristin (Kristy and Mike - you rock!) I attempted to imagine all of those things that stress me out and weigh me down being rinsed down the drain.  Any guilt I felt for not finishing my thesis yet, any stress I had about beginning the new school year, worry about getting stuff ready in time for my students, anger that I hadn't been able to accomplish as much as I thought I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;should&lt;/span&gt; have, fear about financial worries or our future or the future of our country, everything, and more, I pictured running off of me and swirling down the drain.  And I felt lighter.  I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;feel  &lt;/span&gt;lighter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it tells you anything about how much of that stuff I've been carrying around with me, the shower got clogged and I ended up standing in about three inches of water by the time I got out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coincidence?  Maybe.  But it worked fine yesterday.  And the funny thing is that, when Billy took a shower later today, he didn't have a problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then again, maybe I just desperately need a haircut.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1058488363479092505-8333261736988039490?l=wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/8333261736988039490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1058488363479092505&amp;postID=8333261736988039490' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/8333261736988039490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/8333261736988039490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/2008/08/new-years-resolution.html' title='New Year&apos;s Resolution'/><author><name>Lisa Pritchard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433361520151108413</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/SJuaTgjGcyI/AAAAAAAAABM/R5XJGy1IUco/s1600-R/Lisa%2Band%2BGiraffes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1058488363479092505.post-3127791914169659646</id><published>2008-08-18T21:54:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-18T22:19:50.253-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad Poetry Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Today is "Bad Poetry Day" so I've decided to write a bad poem.  Billy's going to help me.  Here we go...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ode to the Great White Western New York Male&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;O middle-aged blubbery belly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see you glistening horrifically in the partly cloudy light of the Western New York Summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is not that warm, yet you reveal yourself as soon as the weather becomes tolerable, much like the graceful, yet chubby, groundhog sneaks out of his den in fruitless search of his shadow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I honk.  Honk my horn in protest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the love of god and all of humanity, put your damn shirt back on you pale-ass freak.  Isn't it dangerous to mow the lawn shirtless, anyway?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You white-flight albatross.  You haunt me everywhere.  My eyes have been sodomized.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take your &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;buddha&lt;/span&gt; belly inside.  Please.  I'm begging you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never thought I would look forward to winter.  Thank you for that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/SKosdmGeJLI/AAAAAAAAABc/E6RT9g8wzoA/s1600-h/netflix-thief-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/SKosdmGeJLI/AAAAAAAAABc/E6RT9g8wzoA/s320/netflix-thief-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236046403727140018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Western New York Great White Whale&lt;br /&gt;takes a break from doing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;yardwork&lt;/span&gt; to check his mail.&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;netflix&lt;/span&gt; order arrived.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1058488363479092505-3127791914169659646?l=wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/3127791914169659646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1058488363479092505&amp;postID=3127791914169659646' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/3127791914169659646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/3127791914169659646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/2008/08/bad-poetry-day.html' title='Bad Poetry Day'/><author><name>Lisa Pritchard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433361520151108413</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/SJuaTgjGcyI/AAAAAAAAABM/R5XJGy1IUco/s1600-R/Lisa%2Band%2BGiraffes.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/SKosdmGeJLI/AAAAAAAAABc/E6RT9g8wzoA/s72-c/netflix-thief-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1058488363479092505.post-3701786632466309055</id><published>2007-12-20T10:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T10:10:20.747-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I just elfed my family</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.elfyourself.com/?id=1607577978"&gt;Check&lt;/a&gt; it out!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1058488363479092505-3701786632466309055?l=wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/3701786632466309055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1058488363479092505&amp;postID=3701786632466309055' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/3701786632466309055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/3701786632466309055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/2007/12/i-just-elfed-my-family.html' title='I just elfed my family'/><author><name>Lisa Pritchard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433361520151108413</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/SJuaTgjGcyI/AAAAAAAAABM/R5XJGy1IUco/s1600-R/Lisa%2Band%2BGiraffes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1058488363479092505.post-4146064631136025200</id><published>2007-11-30T11:01:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-30T11:01:53.518-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Travel Writing Blog</title><content type='html'>Wait!  I found &lt;a href="http://www.besttravelwriting.com/btw-blog/"&gt;one&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1058488363479092505-4146064631136025200?l=wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/4146064631136025200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1058488363479092505&amp;postID=4146064631136025200' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/4146064631136025200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/4146064631136025200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/2007/11/travel-writing-blog.html' title='Travel Writing Blog'/><author><name>Lisa Pritchard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433361520151108413</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/SJuaTgjGcyI/AAAAAAAAABM/R5XJGy1IUco/s1600-R/Lisa%2Band%2BGiraffes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1058488363479092505.post-3007870871432695870</id><published>2007-11-30T10:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-30T10:56:45.925-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tech Session Blog Link</title><content type='html'>I was looking for blogs on travel literature because that's what I'm working on for my thesis and found that there are a lot of blogs where people list their interests as both "travel" and "literature" but very little information on actual travel literature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead, I have decided to link to a blog that I check on a regular basis that is maintained by a former advisor of mine. It's called &lt;a accesskey="1" href="http://infocult.typepad.com/infocult/"&gt;Infocult: Information, Culture, Policy, Education&lt;/a&gt; and focuses on information and its culture, history, and role in teaching. He also has a lot of articles on the gothic and cyberculture, especially in literature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a particularly interesting &lt;a href="http://infocult.typepad.com/infocult/2007/11/best-political.html"&gt;article &lt;/a&gt;on the rather humorous reason that a politician decided to resign from his post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well...I laughed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1058488363479092505-3007870871432695870?l=wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/3007870871432695870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1058488363479092505&amp;postID=3007870871432695870' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/3007870871432695870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/3007870871432695870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/2007/11/tech-session-blog-link.html' title='Tech Session Blog Link'/><author><name>Lisa Pritchard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433361520151108413</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/SJuaTgjGcyI/AAAAAAAAABM/R5XJGy1IUco/s1600-R/Lisa%2Band%2BGiraffes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1058488363479092505.post-4614693609514077908</id><published>2007-10-31T11:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-31T11:36:06.473-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Blogs, Wikis, and Podcasts Discussion</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;After our discussions in our tech session, I'm getting excited about possibly introducing a blog to my classes.  Yay.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Oh, by the way - the title of my blog is because I like books and I like giraffes.  They're tall.  So am I.  Ergo, you get the picture.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1058488363479092505-4614693609514077908?l=wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/feeds/4614693609514077908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1058488363479092505&amp;postID=4614693609514077908' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/4614693609514077908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1058488363479092505/posts/default/4614693609514077908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wellreadgiraffe.blogspot.com/2007/10/blogs-wikis-and-podcasts-discussion.html' title='Blogs, Wikis, and Podcasts Discussion'/><author><name>Lisa Pritchard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433361520151108413</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mk1xOj70FZI/SJuaTgjGcyI/AAAAAAAAABM/R5XJGy1IUco/s1600-R/Lisa%2Band%2BGiraffes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
