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3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | On Monday I started the possibility of the process of buying my own place. I just met with a realtor, that's all, no paper-signing going on, no commitments, yet. It's a scary thing this idea of home ownership, signing away your life for 30 years. It's a good idea, financially, but mentally, is this good for me? I have a few single girlfriends who have bought places. Two friends in Richmond bought houses. I think they have balls. Not that home ownership is that big of a deal, but a house is a big deal. I personally can't go that big. The mowing, the pruning, roof replacement, window washing, it's too much. I can barely handle keeping my 6-room apartment in orderly shape. I can just imagine the letters from neighbors that I would get concerning the jungle that would certainly grow outside my home. So a condo, a condo sounds good to me. It's like an apartment, but I'd get to paint the walls and a tax deduction. Condo searching is hard. While I'm still in the beginning stages, I've already seen 3 in person and a bunch online. Nothing has caught my eye. I think I am waiting for the perfect one to just fall into my lap. I'm picky, but open-minded. I've told my realtor that I'm interested in city properties and no new construction. I want an old, lived in, worn and wise place. My very nice, my age, trying to sell me a place realtor took notes. I checked for a ring. There was one. What does it say about me when the men I am not attracted to are married? Does that mean that somewhere out there there is someone who would love my winning personality and bright smile? Oh, this is not blog about me wanting a relationship. This is a blog about me wanting, something, a little more of myself, I guess. There are friends who say, 'You will find him when you least expect it.' A good friend who is getting married this summer tells every single girl who claims they are OK with being single that they should watch what they say because she felt the same way last year and poof she's getting married. Well, with my relationship phobias, I haven't been expecting it for um, 27 years so, um where is the unexpected? OK, I'm still not ready for all that commitment, so am I ready to commit to a condo? We will surely see. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | There is the old cliche that music can change your mood in an instant. Oftentimes, I am the cliche. Driving in my car a song on the radio will put in the mood for shopping, reading a book, or dancing within the span of 8 minutes. The emotional hills and valleys that I go through listening to music come up as quickly as the mileposts on the highway. On Saturdays, when there is work to be done in my apartment, I open the blinds or windows, turn up the radio on an upbeat (usually hip hop) station and get busy. Choosing one CD to listen during one period of productive time is more difficult. I have a habit of listening to an album until it is worn out and tired. I get a new album and listen to it over and over. I've been known to put certain songs or even the whole CD on repeat for hours. Because of this, I know every word to albums of bands like U2, Sarah Mclachlan, James, Harry Connick Jr., Billy Brag and Wilco, Michelle Shocked, David Wilcox, Jimmy Buffet, and show tunes like Les Mis and Phantom. So much useless information floating around my brain taking up space for real knowledge like whom all of my government representatives are and how they vote in their various arenas. I know that this mind hoarding of information happens to everybody to some degree, but not only do lyrics hide in my long-term memory, but with those lyrics and melodies are visual, olfactory, and textural memories. Songs, and especially whole albums can bring back days, events, and sometimes-whole years. Like James 'Laid' CD evokes the memory or Camp Morehead where I was a (non-sailing) counselor for one summer in high school. I had brought the only CD player for the cabin so I forced the 12-13 year old girls to listen to my brooding British music. Camp Morehead was dismantled a few years ago and the land sold to people building their dream second homes on the shores of many peoples childhood summers. I actually hated camp, but every once in a while when I listen to 'Laid' I wish for the slow breeze coming off the Bogue Sound and all the little SunFish sailing in the wind. There is another CD in my collection that I bought in the Dominican Republic on spring break my last year in college. A resident of the house my friend and I stayed in played a native Dominican's CD everyday so it became the soundtrack to our visit. The music is poorly produced and there are barking dogs used as part of the beat on one song, but that CD is probably the best souvenir I've ever gotten from a trip. Sometimes, in summer, I'll put it on in my car; roll all the windows down and just drive, thinking of the Dominican. There are many more CDs and even more recollections. And so all these memories attached to my music cause the choosing of music to listen to at a particular time quite difficult. There are rows and rows of CDs in my collection that I just can't bring myself to play because friends and trips and times in my life are gone and can't be reclaimed. Nostalgia is sad state for me and one I only visit when I really miss someone or someplace. And I'm so thankful when sometimes; somehow with new places and good friends I have the opportunity to attach new memories to the music. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | that all the world should be taxed. And so I went to a local tax place that was giving free tax service to teachers (gotta love those perks). It took two nights because I had to wait the first night for another customer. As I waited an older man who is a retired accountant and who's son owns the business began to organize my papers. He was friendly and we talked for at least an hour. Of course, he knew a lot about me because my life was displayed in numbers before him, but he also told me about his ex-wife who left him six months ago and all the improvements he had personally done on his house that he is now trying to sell. While he was very kind and a great listener, this was all too much information, but I listened and nodded because he was helping me with finances. When I left the first night after getting some of my information entered, I owed a boatload of taxes. I was not happy and immediately began thinking of second jobs. Barnes and Noble has been on my list for a while, but do I really want to work for a corporate monster at the lowest level? OK, I'm a teacher, I really don't have much of a choice. The next night was more promising, well financially at least. When I walked in, the older man welcomed me and asked some more questions about my paperwork and then said he found a mistake the previous person had made that would save my taxes and actually grant me a return, a small one, but at least it was on the positive side. I was ecstatic. The clouds lifted and I would not have to sell my soul to pay my taxes. He was quite pleased with himself as well and mentioned that he liked to see me smile more than three times. I obliged him the smiles because he was, of course, saving my taxpaying ass. This was a small outfit so all paperwork would be sent to a processing center to be checked and then I would have to come back to pick it up. When I was ready to leave I went to shake his hand. He held my hand well after the thank-you-for-your-help handshake and said 'The good news is that I get to see you one more time.' I gave a quiet-I-don't-know-what-that-means giggle and turned and walked out. As I left the store a scary thought went through my head, 'Did that old man just hit on me?' He is not grandfather, really sweet older. He's the just retired, wife just left me older. Um, no. I then began to think back to the conversations we had had over the past two nights. Did he think there was more than accountant/ taxpayer information being past? I have come to realize that I am clueless to men's flirting techniques, even when they are obvious. This usually happens when there is no interest on my part and therefore why would I be looking for signs? There was once the college friend who all of sudden told me he loved me. I stopped being friends with him, pronto (I know, I'm a bitch, but he ended up gay so um, I think I was right). There was a guy at a bar once who told me he had been staring at me and trying to pick me up for 1/2 hour. I had no idea and I'm glad actually, he ended being quite cute and oh-so strange. Then there was a guy at weekend long party who followed me around the whole first night until I realized after he told me that I was the kind of girl he wanted to marry that I really needed to just be around my girlfriends. I hate those clueless girls, the ones who have guys swarming around them while they are supposedly oblivious. I guess, sometimes we all are That Girl. Regardless if the old tax-man was getting flirty or not, I can't help but feel that my tax refund is now just dirty money. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | here's me trying to add linky links in the text for the first time. urlLink buy an apple, it will save your life , urlLink good news , urlLink good TV , urlLink better TV , urlLink the best music , ok, i'm done with the practicing. have fun with the linking. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | So, the other day I was flipping through my sitemeter stats and noticed that someone came to my blog through google. I clicked on the link to see what subject they entered to get here. I like to see what other sites pop up along with mine. Well, some perv entered 'pee together' into the google search engine. My site came up becuase of my innocent story about my cousin and I when we were little. I was totally grossed out. People are disgusting. I need a shower. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | I just need a hug. No, no, the biggest hug you have actually. A giant teddy bear sized hug that envelopes me and cradles me and maybe even rocks me gently back and fourth. A big hug, that's all. Well, and maybe the answer to the question of 'Why?' |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | The work “dork” refers to the male sexual organ, “Geek” was the name of a circus performer who bit the head off of chickens, and “jerk” refers to the jerking motions that a person with severe cognitive or physical disabilities can display when they lose control of their muscles. Sometimes, the words in our verbal lexicon are no so innocent. I’m just sayin’. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | “I gotta go,” I squealed. I was 4 years old, skinny with dark hair, pale skin and big brown eyes. “I gotta go too,” said B. She was 5 years old, skinny with blond hair and brown eyes. We were beautiful together, the little girl version of yin and yang. “Let’s go together,” one of us said. So we raced to the upstairs bathroom, got ready and sat down together to pee. We were giddy. This was silly. We were peeing together, our tiny bottoms sharing one toilet. Our mothers thought it was precious. This was our cousin thing, a little girl bonding time. One mother grabbed a camera and flashed our picture, B. with her long blond hair and legs together facing the bathtub, me with my long brown hair and legs together facing the wall. We are squeezed in, our hands holding on to the tips of the oval seat so we wouldn’t fall in or off. Our clothes are simple knits, me in white, B. in dark blue; our shorts stuck to our legs have appliqué. We are gorgeous. We are smiling. We are young. We are silly. We are happy. It is one of my favorite pictures, B. and I concocting a simple plan to kill two birds with one stone. I’m so glad there is a picture of that innocent time. Sometimes B. and I will talk about our childhoods, how we grew up so differently yet share so much in common. She is my blond size 2 cousin. I am not her. She is a modified hippie. I am an ex-sorority girl. Her mom is young and the least neurotic of her sisters. My mom is not. But we both have a factor in our blood that causes blood clots. So do our mothers. We are so different and so similar. I am proud of her, that she is a brilliant photographer. I love that she loves her animals and plants like they are her children. I’m glad she has found a man in a fairytale way, which we always dreamed would happen. I love that she is strong and kind and knows more than she tells. And I love that sometimes she will say, with laughter in her voice, “Anna, we use to pee together!” “I know,” I say, laughing back, “I know.” |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | I I don’t remember his name, but I remember the first time I met Autism. I was in college doing a very short practicum. It was, in fact, my first practicum. I was placed with a special education teacher at a local elementary school. Her classroom served kids of varying disabilities, but mostly kids with LD or mild MR. She practiced “inclusion” and this was my first experience with this hot topic in special education. I observed her sitting at the back of a classroom with a small group of kids while the regular education classroom teacher led a lesson with the rest of the class. “So this is inclusion,” I thought. “This isn’t what I had in mind, but I could do this. OK, I get it.” But, I would do more than observe over my 3 short visits to that school. I asked the special education teacher if I could help her. I wanted to get in there with the kids. They were, after all, why I was there. She asked me to sit with a little boy and read with him to keep him occupied for a short while. His social skills were strange to me. He came to me when I asked, but never looked at my face. His eyes darted quickly from on thing to another, mostly at floor or knee level. He sat down with me on a couch in a corner of the classroom. He was the first to open the book and he just took off reading before I could tell him what we were going to be doing. I had no time to ask him about the title, the author, or the pictures. I was amazed that he could read the book verbatim to me. He was in 1st or 2nd grade and I knew his true reading skills surpassed his supposed ability. I asked him questions as we read the story. I wanted him to explain or expand on the pictures in the book. His answers were “yes” or “no” if anything. Mostly he ignored me. It seemed he had no idea what we had shared together. I remarked to his teacher later that I was very impressed with his reading, but wondered about why he couldn’t or didn’t answer my questions. The teacher was busy and couldn’t quench my inquisitions. I was so uninformed and inexperienced with Autism. That teacher couldn’t have told me the answer to my questions. Like Autism itself, the answers were complex. II Mathew was four years old and on the flyer he had an angelic face with blond ringlets framing big blue eyes. I answered the ad for a home-based teacher and began doing ABA therapy with Mathew in his home for 6 hrs. a week. It took me only a few days to fall in love with him. “This is good work,” I thought. “This is what I was meant to do.” I had another job that year in college working in the merchandise department for a famous band. While I took phone orders and packed t-shirts all I could think about was Mathew and how the work with him was far more important than satisfying the sticker and CD wishes of teenagers. I was anxious to stop working for the band and when summer ended I split my time between classes and Mathew. I learned ABA well enough to do it in my sleep. “What number? What letter?, Good job!, No, try again.” ran through my head, my dreams were flooded with discrete trials. I worried about Mathew and whether I was really being effective. I explained to friends and family that my work with Mathew was tedious. I tried to put what we were doing into everyday language. I said “We’re trying to introduce him to our world, one thing at a time.” I don’t think my friends really grasped the idea, their puzzled faces said more than their encouraging words. They feigned enthusiasm for my sake. This was becoming my passion. After a full year with Mathew I was tired of ABA. Our sessions had become the same, the same drills, and the same goals. I was bored. I can’t imagine what Mathew was feeling. He was making progress, but not enough that I could make sense of it. I had seen one major improvement in him. I told my parents one night during dinner on their drive through my college town that Mathew had made gains and I was so excited. I was seeing that he was understanding what we were teaching him. The example I gave was this: Everyday when I see him I say “Hi Mathew,” and he answers “Hi Anna” usually with a flat affect and no eye contact. I then say, “What are you doing?” And there is silence. I prompt him with “I’m sitting, I’m playing Nintendo, I’m reading a book, I’m watching TV, I’m eating…” He repeats my answer and I say “Good job” and we get to work. We’ve done this a thousand times. It’s just the way I greet him, nothing specific we are working on. Then one day around the 7th month into my work with him I walk into his room and say my stock greeting “Hi Mathew.” “Hi Anna,” he says. “What are you doing?” “I’m bed,” he says quietly. I stopped in mid-stride then I flew to him, picked him up, threw him in the air saying, “That’s right, you’re ON THE BED! Good job! I love it!” I tickle him and we repeat the sequence, me shaping his words with a prompt. “I’m ON THE bed.” This was a good day. This was important. He was understanding. I would later learn in my education classes that Mathew had generalized the information we were teaching him. He was “getting it,” but I was happy for the reprieve and change of pace that student teaching brought when I had to stop working with Mathew. I continued to baby-sit and stay close with the family, but this was my last experience with hard-core ABA. It was the foundation for my obsession with Autism. It was a good learning experience. It was important. III The first day of my student teaching I knew things would be very different for me. This was a TEACCH classroom. What I walked into was a mess, a scattered and colorful maze of bookshelves and desks. The teacher and TAs were just putting everything together after a summer off. There was a relaxed feel and yet there was so much to do. The teacher was a graying hippie who wore overalls and Birkenstocks, drove a red pickup truck and talked about her horse, Nelly. She’d developed the classroom and program with a fellow teacher. This was her baby. She knew Autism backwards and forwards. She was wise. I knew I’d learn from her. And I did. The first day the kids arrived, 8 of them in all, I stood and watched and followed, mostly with my eyes and mouth wide open. These kids talked in full sentences without prompting, the cared for their own belongings, they followed their own schedules, they played with typical peers, they asked for help, they were toilet trained. “This is not Autism,” is all I could think. I talked with the teacher that first school day when all the kids had left. I had a million questions about each child. “Why is Ethan so lethargic? If Sadie didn’t talk when you first met her, how did she learn to talk? Will Kathleen ever read?” I knew I had to get used to fact that Mathew was not Autism and Autism was not Mathew. That classroom proved the spectrum for me in terms of kids, in terms of methodologies. Autism is a rainbow of colors, I got it. IV Anthony’s parents came to school before school even began. We had to amend his IEP. He was switching schools to my newly formed Autism classroom and he would be held back in kindergarten for one more try. His mother and father were originally from India. They spoke English, but I still found myself speaking loudly and repeating things in simple phrases. I needed to feel that they understood me because I couldn’t understand them. Anthony’s first day in my classroom for kids with Autism was my first day too. We both had no idea what we were in for. Anthony would spend half a day in kindergarten sharing a TA with another student and half a day with me working academics and adaptive skills. Anthony worked hard and was rewarded with playtime. He spent a lot of him playtime having figures interact or simply talking gibberish to himself. He knew English, but would only speak when prompted. His parent assured us that they only spoke English at home. This was important for him to learn one language given his challenges. His parents were adamant and I believed them, they didn’t understand him very much either. He made no eye contact unless I cupped my hands around his big beautiful brown eyes and put him face to mine. Anthony was a puzzle and he worried me. Then, we began to acknowledge his sounds and anytime he used an English word appropriately we threw a small party. Soon Anthony was throwing his own parties. He would show us his artwork enthusiastically exclaiming, “Look. Oh it’s beautiful. Good job Anthony!” When he would answer a question he would automatically congratulate himself, “Yes, good job!” We would agree with him and then laugh with him. We knew he was repeating us, but we couldn’t have paid for that pride or that growth. We took it and embraced it, Anthony was awakening. Slowly and surely Anthony made strides. He quickly learned to read alongside his peers. He was counting and making patterns. His comprehension was always a bit of a challenge, but by 3rd grade he was working on grade level and fully included in his regular education classroom. He even had friends. Anthony was an exception. He was bright and his parents worked with him constantly. He is only one of many success stories, but his is one I think of often in terms of extremes. His speech pathologist would often say to me when I was discouraged, “Anna, when we tried to evaluate him his first year in kindergarten he was a mess. He would sit in his classroom in the corner, rocking and saying gibberish.” Turns out, there was no gibberish there, just words that needed shaping and a little boy who needed lots and lots of encouragement and laughter. We happily gave it to him. V Autism is a neurological disorder that stems from deficits in social and communication skills and coincides with repetitive behaviors. I often speak of Autism’s umbrella, how ADD and OCD and MR can all be part of a child’s diagnosis, but I always feel I fall short when explaining the true nature of the disorder. This is hard for me because I can’t possibly relay all the stories and images that had led to my understanding and yet without those stories and images my understanding is weak. I want people to automatically see what I mean when I try to describe how this disorder can present itself and I am so careful that I don’t leave a Rainman image, a one man show of a multi-faced disability. I think I always fail; Rainman is more visual than my words can ever be. And this too is what frustrates me when trying to explain my philosophy in educating people with Autism. Contrary to my beginning with this disorder, I believe in a highly eclectic approach filled with speech therapy, occupational therapy, sensory integration, floortime, inclusion, schedules, behavior plans, varied opportunities, generalization, varied teaching materials and methods, all under a child centered, extremely structured environment. And above all I believe in spontaneity with these students. How can you be spontaneous in a highly structured environment? Easy, make sure the structure allows for freedom and the kids will blossom. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | I see the skyline of New York and my stomach does flips. I want that city. I crave that city. When I unexpectedly come across a picture of New York’s skyline, I take in the scene and then have to look away. I can’t look too long because the stomach flip will turn into an aching. So, I move on and begin to plan a trip back to Gotham. I’ve only visited on short trips. Sometimes my visits were so brief they were merely a tease. A one-nighter for a private concert, a one-night lay over to the Dominican, and a lunch on Spring Street in January with snow falling while passing through town. No matter the time I’ve spent in NYC, the city is always with me. This past December I told my friend shortly after we emerged from Penn Station that I just felt at home in the city. There is so much life in New York and this is what I love must about it. Of course there is life everywhere, but in NYC it is at its most vibrant. I love that there are people crashing into you on the sidewalks. I love that you can hear the streets and sirens at 4am on the 25thfloor of an apartment building. I love the subways and buses carrying strangers to a million different places. I love that there is a giant patch of green in the middle of the chaos to offer a reprieve and that inside that escape the skyline still impresses its buildings, gesturing to come back into the fray. I consume as much media related to New York as I can. I watch every documentary I find, rent movies with that take place in New York, read books with NYC as the setting, and read blogs of NYC dwellers. Obsession would be a good word for it, but my fascination is more of a hobby. I think about moving there and then life goes on and I forget about it or convince myself that it’s not really what I want, that I need to cultivate the roots here and stay near my family whom I love. But, when I see a picture of New York’s skyline, my stomach tells me to go back to the obsessing, to get online and find a job and an apartment in the city, to forget the ties in Virginia and to make that leap. I know, I know. Why not? Well, I have no answer. All I can say is give me a year, we’ll see. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | the fever is breaking which is a good thing, but i would rather be cold than sweating. thanks to my friend, j., in texas who urged me to go out and get sick food. i was so hot, but my belly is full and that is a good thing, however eating salad while breathing through your mouth is a hard thing to do and not choke. i'm just sayin'. i'm done with the sick updates, go back to your lives people, i'll be blowing my nose and turning up my AC. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | been under a down comforter for an hour and a half and still freezing. body hurts, fever at 100.something. want. my. mom. and. gingerale and orange sherbert float. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | I hate having a cold, especially when the weather is warm. My head is clogged and nose is stuffed. I just want my bed. HMMMMM, my bed. Must. Get. To. Bed. Right after some meetings at school with parents who probably won't show up and I'll just be sitting around twittling my thumbs and wishing for my bed. 2 of my 3 meetings scheduled for this morning already didn't happen. 2 more non-meetings to go, then home and bed and tv and orange juice. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | Check out the new link on the right, 100 things. and thanks. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | At one point during every season, save for summer, I think that this season is my favorite time of the year. I love the point in fall when the leaves have turned their autumnal colors and there is a crispness to the air that only happens in late September and early October. Fall smells like new backpacks and fresh notebooks. For me, fall signals beginnings though most of nature is ending or falling into a slumber. Winter brings the snow that quiets and cleanses everything under its blanket, and this usually brings rest from the harried school days. I love the cold and chilled air of winter, sleeping under a thickly feathered duvet and throwing on handmade scarves to snuggle my neck. My favorite thing about spring are the honeysuckle flowers. Spring sneaks up on me every year. I grow use to the barren trees of winter and somehow don’t notice the buds and tinges of green that Spring pushes through. Then one day, all of a sudden, there are no more branches on the trees, hillsides cascade with green, houses are hidden behind rows or clumps of leaves and flowers, and shade gracefully covers the precious areas under the trees' new dress. But, honeysuckle. It's an amazing testament of re-growth. It grows wild along highways, alleys, schoolyards, and backyards, any place with a fence to lend climbing space. The bushes are everywhere and when a small honeysuckle breeze blows and catches me off guard I am seven again, standing in my front yard on the left side of the house near the alley with my brother and neighborhood friends. The bushes are full grown and you can't be outside without the sweetness luring you. We would gather round the bushes picking the yellow and white flowers as quickly as we could. We wanted as much sweetness as we could get, but we were hindered by our work. Stealing honeysuckle juice is a delicate task. You must be careful to pluck the whole flower from the bush. Then gently holding the flower midway up the petals between two fingers on one hand, you pinch the bottom green mass between two fingers on the other hand and pull. The pulling must be slow. You must feel the tiny yellow ball at the end of the delicate stem slipping through the petals, grabbing and pushing the honey out of the small hole you've made in the flower. Then quickly move the flower and stem to your tongue a moment before you pull the stem from the flower and feel the tiny tickle of sweet, watery honey. It's spring. Your tongue has confirmed it. Life is beginning again. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | I was strolling through B&N one day and noticed that in the SAT prep section there were new materials, which were not part of my SAT study path. I had a tinge of jealousy seeing 'SAT word' novels on the shelf. The titles like BUSTED and HEAD OVER HEELS accompanied cheesy cover art and promised stories of love and mystery among high school students. These 'novels' are written around common vocab. words found on the SAT and those words even appear in bold type within the text. I was jealous because even though I have a BA in English Lang. and Lit. and love to read, I hated and struggled with reading throughout elementary, middle and high school. My majoring in English was a surprise even to myself because I entered college loathing reading and writing. I even went to the writing center on campus to get assistance with my early college papers and I would come out knowing I had much work ahead of me. I was originally going to major in Psychology thinking that I needed this background for teaching. But, my heart was never in Psychology and when one of the best professors I ever had gave me a C, it pushed me to make a change. He was one of the best professors, not because of his teaching, but because of our talks during my office visits. I went to him often for help because I was failing his class. He became my friend and gave me guidance. I learned about his family and his struggles in college and he helped me see that my world was not, in fact, collapsing around me. We didn't talk much about the class I was taking from him, these were more like therapy sessions. The strange thing about his role in my life that semester (and even later when I would go and visit with him) is that his specialty was in learning and cognition and he worked primarily with mice. He wasn't trained for the sessions we had and when he handed me chemwipes as I cried during my first visit, I knew he would be my friend. After a few sessions in his office, the semester was ending and it was time for the final exam. I rocked the socks off of my final, but he still gave me a C for the course, I was one point away from a B- and passing the class. I was heartbroken and felt betrayed. When I went to see him after winter break to discuss my grade, he didn't flinch although he had previously and quietly said he would help me if I made a good enough grade on the final. I left his office quietly and quickly that day, there was no therapy session to work me through this one and I wasn't that upset, surprisingly. He knew what he was doing; he knew my heart was not in Psychology. With the threat of having to retake that Psychology class to finish the major looming in the distance, I went on with my other classes. While studying THE EPIC OF GILAMESH for an anthropology class with a friend, I realized I had to change my major. I loved the analysis of psychology, but I hated the science of it. English, this is where I could find the analysis I craved without any science to confuse my brain. I crammed every English class available into my schedule. I stuck to mostly poetry classes as I thought this was my passion. I think part of me really liked how short poems where. I was still a little afraid of all that reading. But, I couldn't avoid it forever and I'm so glad that I had to read books like A RAISIN IN THE SUN, AS I LAY DYING, DROWN, NATIVE SON, CYMBELINE, THE COLOR PURPLE, and THE BLUEST EYE. I wasn't the best at reading all the assigned readings. 'Sir Gawain' and Chaucer didn't excite me and there were Colonial American passages that put me to sleep, literally. I still struggle with my love/ hate relationship with reading. I wish I were voracious at it. I think it's partly that it takes time for stories to unfold. I wish I could finish books in one sitting like a movie, but I read slowly. I read every word and say each one silently in my head. I know there are speed-reading methods, but I don't want to skip over words, I just wish I could read every word, faster. A few years ago, I started a book journal where I write character maps and synopses of the books I read. It's an idea from my 10th grade English teacher and I find it good for me. I have physical proof that I've read a book and it jogs my memory if I can't remember a plot line or character details. In the beginning of the journal I noted words I needed to look up, big words not in my daily vocab. This lasted for about 3 books (OK just 1 really) and then the words I didn't know disappeared from the entries as if I've mastered the English Lang. Hardly, I just got lazy, realizing I probably would never use or see those big words again and just began to skim over them. But, sometimes, I crave bigger words in my head and I wonder if I read 'SAT vocab.' novels, would I cognize the context clues, ascertain the definitions and ameliorate my conversations? I doubt it. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | Tonight going to my good friend's house to watch the finale of friends (um finally, thank God) I was driving to the middle of nowhere. I hate the suburbs and she and her fiance live so far out that it takes 30 minutes and $2.50 in tolls roundtrip from my apartment in town. So driving, I saw this mini cooper with the license plate 'SUVS SUC.' Now, I know we guzzle gas and are ruining the ozone, but I really wanted to pull his little mini ass over and challenge him to play chicken with my SUV. I'd squash him. He'd be like a crumple soda can after slamming into my Sport (luxury) Utility (hauling shoes and pretty purses) Vehicle. So, you mini man, watch who you're picking on. And my best friend is getting married and sometimes this makes me cry. Like tonight, it finally hit me and I cried. PS- I love mini coopers, being obsessed with all things British. But, don't mess with my SUV! |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | Of course I've thought about it happening. I've envisioned how it would happen and what I might do. I've considered that I should devise a plan if it happened, just to be prepared. Well, it happened and I had no plan, no diagram to show me what to do. This morning I woke up with a headache thinking, as I do every morning, that I just want to get back in bed, I want to call in sick. But, I never do call in sick. I turn on the coffee maker, get dressed, fix lunch and when the coffee is ready I begin sipping it while quietly saying a prayer that my empty stomach will except the legal stimulate and take it straight to my brain. This morning, the coffee couldn't work fast enough and the headache required 2 ibuprofen. Praying to the over-the-counter drug gods that the medicine too would go straight to my brain, I began looking for my keys. I couldn't find them and my head hurt too much to search really hard. So I grabbed the spare set with it's spare car key, spare car remote clicker thing, and spare apartment key. The clicker thing was the slightly used one I had traded for the unused one a few months ago thinking that the battery in it had run it’s course. It's a sad little keychain with only the three danglers, but it would have to do, I was running late. It was a wet morning and this time I remembered my spare umbrella in case the heaven's opened up on me as I went from school to school. I stepped out of my apartment, coffee in hand and as I approached my car, the spare clicker wasn't working. I figured its tiny battery was in fact dead and opened the driver's side door with my key. I then tried to manually unlock the rear doors by using the power unlock button on the driver side door (I know, not really manually). Nothing happened. I was confused. I hopped in, put my bags on the passenger seat, set my coffee in its holder and put the key in the ignition. Upon turning it, I got nothing. I mean nothing, not even the usual piddily sound the altenater makes when it’s trying to charge the battery when in fact the battery is dead. All signs were pointing to a dead battery, but no noise, that was strange. I was confused and then remembered how the ignition had been acting funny the last few days. Here is where I needed the plan and had none. I first said a quick thank you to God that I was a support teacher and did not have a classroom full of kids waiting on me and then a bit of panic set in. What do you when you are almost late for work as it is and everyone you know is probably at work already. I called my brother, he had to take the kids to school and even if he could get me to work I couldn’t travel to my other schools and I'd have to take care of the car today anyway. So, I had to call in. I was getting my early morning wish, but really, this was not the way I had wanted it. Having no plan I couldn’t figure out how to call in: Do I call in sick or is this personal business? Do I call in for a half day and hope my brain clears and I figure out how to get to school for the last half of the day? Who can help me? How long with AAA take? I ended up calling in for the whole day. Car troubles have notoriously taken whole days before so I thought I would play it safe and not confuse the day even more by having to try to get to school by a certain time. It all worked out. The dealership was able to (expensively) fix everything by the end of the day and I can go to school easily and safely again. I'm just wondering, do you have a plan if it happens to you? |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | This past weekend I went to Winston-Salem, NC to a cousin's wedding, on my dad's side. I am not close to this side of my family; my dad having only brothers and brothers are less likely to gather their respective families together often enough for children to form bonds. I do see my cousin A. every Thanksgiving at our house though I don't really know her. She is, however, sweet and kind and so I was happy to go to her wedding. I was, however, happier to also spend time with my Cousin Loves A. and R. from my mother's side. My mother has two sisters and while both live in different cities in North Carolina, all of our families have grown up together. We have spent almost every holiday together, camping vacations at the beach, and weeks at Lake Norman, NC. My cousin's and I (a total of 3 girls and 1 boy) haven't always been great friends, but we were great playmates growing up. We were around each other so much that it seemed like we were brothers and sisters. We played, we fought, we played again, and then we went to college. When we grew older we became friends. Trips to visit each other and weekly phone calls developed. We became good friends, we were happy our mothers brought us together, we were happy for our Cousin Love. Cousin Love is how we address each other and we do it with a southern drawl. It ends up sounding like 'cuzzin luuuuv.' It is merely a way to say, 'I'm glad you're in my life. I'm glad you’re my cousin and I love you.' Cousin Loves have begun to multiply. There are now wives and soon-to-be husbands and I'm sure there will be children soon too. We welcome the additions and affectionately extend the Cousin Love name. Our children will continue to be cousins though growing more and more distant in a familial since. We know they will grow up together, we hope too that they will develop innocent Cousin Love and see the joy of friendship that we have. We have a tentative plan to save our monies and buy a beach house. We want to name it Cousin Love, but know that the world would think us odd. So, in Spanish it would be 'Primo Amor.' And in Italian, it also means 'first love' and this sounds good to us. So, this past Friday night, after the rehearsal dinner for A.'s wedding I took my newly found cousin from my father's side over to A. and R.'s house for some quality time. It was fun, good drinks, good conversation. It was like we had all been friends forever. It was what Cousin Love is all about. And my cousin R. from my dad's side blended right in. In fact, we've convinced her to come to Thanksgiving this year, to continue and expand the Cousin Love. The Cousin Love was so good I felt full up, full up of the kind of love that lets your know you have all you need in the world. The next night at A.'s wedding I sat with my mom and dad, my dad's cousins, one of my dad's brothers, and my cousin R. as we watched A. and B. swish around the room. They did their prescribed wedding things: the first dance as husband and wife, the father-daughter dance, the cake cutting, and the throwing of the garter. As I watched them cut the cake I felt full up again. I felt no envy of A. and B. at that moment. There was no sense that I was missing something. I realized then that I love my family, I love my life, and I am happy. Full up, indeed. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | How do we meet them? When do we know they will be important in our lives? What are the signs that certain people are meant to change you, permanently? This weekend I found a good friend, and luckily, she is part of my family. At our mutual cousin's wedding we met again after probably 15 years. I don't even remember the last time I saw her but it was probably at our North Carolina family reunion, eating chicken stew cooked in a large cast iron kettle over an open flame. Surrounded by family I didn't know very well and in the mist of teenage angst I guess I didn't realize what an amazing person R. would grow to be. Funnily too, we lived an hour away from each other at one point in college and never made the trip over the mountains to meet. R. currently lives in NYC pursuing her passion, poetry. She’s been through college, graduate school and now another masters degree for writing. She's lived almost a whole life since we last talked and I guess, I have too. We talked about NYC and my passion for that city and about poetry. We have more in common than I can believe. She is someone I wish had always been in my life and she was, I just didn't know it. The cousin's wedding whom we were celebrating was brought about through similar circumstances. A. and B. had gone to high school together, but didn't run in the same circles. They both went on to college and jobs and lived in various other cities then met again a few years ago while both were back in their hometown. Their friends say that A. and B. are perfect together, they compliment each other, and that they are deeply in love. Why does it take years, sometimes lifetimes to realize that people who surround you are the ones that will compliment you in ways you can't even fathom? It is as if we are not ready at times. Friends, lovers, husbands, and wives may pass us along the street, but until we have fully grown into ourselves, it doesn't matter how often we meet. When we are ready, hopefully they will be there. It's as if we are all just ships passing in the night and I'm so thankful when somehow we meet again and our lives begin a new direction. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | My parents are here. They are taking care of me which is nice since the tetanus shot has ruined my left arm, I got a splinter in my good foot hopping around, and all of my muscles are sore from having to be used all of a sudden in ways they are not used to. Anyway, enough of the moaning and groaning, I should be half-walking in a few days. My family is taking me to the beach to be waited on. I can’t go in the sun with the antibiotics that I’m on and I can’t get my foot wet. It’s all good; I don’t like the sand and saltwater anyway. So, I’m off for a week. I’m being driven 4 hours to sit in a house and have people bring me things. I’ll be knitting up a storm and reading and watching my little nieces and nephew play. I wish I could play with them. So, no blogging for a week. Come back, I’m sure I’ll have lots to say when I return to you as long as you return to me. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | And it seems I should have stayed there. The infection is way better today, but I was really groggy from the vicodin this morning. I had to take it last night to sleep through the pain. Then, this morning, I went to fix some eggs and toast and just when I was going to put the food on the plate I stepped on a blade that had fallen from a cabinet that I forgot about and didn’t see. I sliced my foot wide open and now have 6 stitches. I’ve never had stitches and I was not the best patient for the poor doctor. This has been a rough two days. I’m going to bed and please don’t call cause I can't walk to get the phone. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | So, I have an infection and from 6 to 10:45pm was in some SERIOUS pain. I went to a prompt care place nearby and pretty much cried the whole time as the pain got worse and worse. I thought about not going, about toughing it out. I don’t like to look like a hypochondriac, but after phone calls to mom and the worsening of the pain, I couldn’t not go. I’ve never seen any of the staff before and I went by myself so I’m sure the staff saw this crying girl and was like “Ok, what’s going on there?” As they sent me from the bathroom to x-ray room to testing room and 2 people walked in on me undressing then dressing, I cried. I cried around the nurse, the doctor, the x-ray tech. I winced and moaned and squirmed like I was having a baby. I’m not a crier and as a woman I can handle pain in the abdominal area pretty well. I couldn’t stop the tears, the pain was too much. So, after all the testing (and crying), the doctor on call gave me a bottle of vicodin. I think he felt sorry for me. I’ve taken the other meds, but not the vicodin yet. That powerful a drug scares me. And, thanks to the beautiful power of antibiotics (we are talkin’ serious ones here) and gentle Tylenol, I can walk and sit without moaning. I love medicine. I love doctors. And, I’m sure if I take the vicodin, I’ll love you too. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | Yesterday, the phone rang while I was brushing my teeth. Mouth full or foam and sonic still buzzing, I run around looking for my cell phone. When I locate it deep in the depths of my purse I don’t recognize the number and think that I need to answer it quickly. And then, like a dumbass, I do. My muffled “hello” allows the person on the other end to identify himself. While he does so I’m thinking “What do I do now? I can’t talk like this. Do I swallow it (ew) or spit while he’s on the phone. What. The. Hell?” I decide on spitting and just confess it, he’s already heard me sound as if I’m under water. So I say “Hold on, I’m brushing my teeth,” then go to the sink to spit, sonic turned off but still in my hand. I apologize to him when I return and hope that he didn’t hear me spitting in the sink, 3 feet away from the phone. I realize; what a dumbass, like answering the phone at that moment was so important that it superseded the mouth full of water and paste. What, what was I thinking? Sometimes, I wonder. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | I’ve realized it is real work being a girl. The maintenance is insane and usually I am not great at making regular appointments for the filing and plucking and cutting and tweezing and polishing. I usually get things done on a whim or because I can’t take the jungle growing above my eyes anymore. Home upkeep is far cheaper, but I am far from skilled enough to keep it up. I try for a few weeks and then I have to revert to the professionals. I’ve never really been the kind to have one hairdresser that I go to excusively. A college roommate would travel 45 minutes back home to get her hair done and still goes to the same lady today though now the commute is about an hour or more. I don’t understand that. Sure, a good hairstylist is hard to find, but there are several out there, in every city. I’ve never had a fear of the haircuts either. I’ve walked into salons for the first time and told the stylist to just do whatever they wanted to do. Some stylists like this, others, not so much. I haven’t really ever had a bad experience. One hairdresser said that I didn’t have to worry about my hair framing my face while other women used their hair to enhance their features and thus the anxiety they have. I think she was complimenting me. She also gave me one of the best haircuts and I ended up going back to her a few times. In the 10 months that I've lived in Richmond I've had my hair cut three times by three different people, none were bad, but none were exceptional either. Today, my stylist was Daniel, a thin man with spiked dirty blond hair who smelled like cigarettes and herbal shampoo. I was apprehensive at first for a man to be plucking my eyebrows and cutting my hair and then he spoke and walked. There is something comforting about a gay man being in charge of your beauty needs. I told him I just needed a trim and he guided me to a sink then said we’d do the eyebrows first so we went to back room with a comfy bedlike chair. He worked on my eyebrows longer than most women stylists have. He plucked the small thin straggling hairs at the top corners of my brows and only put the wax on once. He massaged the areas wear he had waxed and plucked. He relaxed me. He took his time and care. I was disappointed that he didn’t massage my head when he shampooed my hair. I expected he was an extended massager, he wasn’t. As we walked to his styling chair I wanted to tell him to do whatever he wanted with my hair, to put his spin on it. As he was combing out I my hair, I wanted to tell him to be creative, do what he thought was best for my face. I never did. I sat quietly and watched the other customers. He never asked how much I wanted taken off. He just took my hair and started cutting. He cut it to a healthy length, parted it down the middle and added subtle layers. He did this without asking or telling me. He cut and cut and cut, the layers taking time and many head tilts. When he was finished cutting he put straightening cream and hair gel into my wet hair and blew it dry using a rolled brush to straighten and turn the ends under, a skill I can never get down. He didn’t talk much, nor did I, but when he did he said things like “rock and roll” and “twisted.” With these words, I realized we couldn’t be friends. Hours after meeting him, he lingers. When my hair swishes or I brush it out of my face, I smell him, cigarettes and herbs. In the time that I walked in looking for a simple trim and walked out with a hairstyle, Daniel became my hairdresser. I’m committing to him like no other man. I know at least he will take his time and care and he'll give me what I need without even asking. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | For week’s I have been wondering when exactly Father’s Day is. I know of course, that it’s in June and on a Sunday. But I feel like it moves around from year to year. I have, however, just learned that it’s always the 3rd Sunday of June each year. Hmm, I really have trouble with dates. I’m horrible at birthdays. Actually, horrible is probably not strong enough a word. My best friend and I will often send birthday cards that are 6 months late. But, we know that’s the way it is and we accept it, wholeheartedly. Others, however, are not so kind. I’ve known people to really get offended by others forgetting their birthdays. That’s just damn selfish in my opinion. I don’t know. I’m not a big birthday celebrator and never really have been. I’m trying to get better at it, but dates elude me. Like today, I was reading my daily blogs when urlLink Jennifer Weiner’s post mention’s father’s day and I have one of those “Oh my God, I’ve got to call my Dad” moments. I ran around looking for my cell phone and as I’m talking to my Dad I realize that I have not sent a card or anything. I quickly realize I will try to remedy the situation next week at family beach week, but still shitty, shitty of me. I sent my Mom a Mom’s day card (a day late of course), but nothing for my old Dad, who loves me so unconditionally. Sorry Dad. It’s not personal, I just suck. Well, I guess in my case, we’ve established why there is no Daughter’s Day. On the bright side, maybe the Father’s Day cards will be half-price tomorrow. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | Cellophane. It’s my new favorite wrapping material. I’ve just wrapped 2 presents for today’s scheduled parties and yes, one is wedding related and yes, I’m over it. As I went through my quite vast assortment of wrapping material I landed on the cellophane for the first package because I had to due to it’s odd shape and then I just had to us the cellophane again for the next one, it’s just too fun. And, while wrapping, I walked around singing “Cellophane, Mister cellophane” from Chicago. And now, I’m just chillin’ before I have to leave to drive all over Virginia in one day. I’m usually a last minute shopper and would typically be out buying the presents right now. But, I’ve learned to stockpile presents so that I can just pull from the bunch and go. But, my last minuteness is not totally gone, I’m really waiting on my clothes in the dryer and I was suppose to leave like 5 minutes ago. Oh well, people love me anyway, despite all the lateness and last minute presents, tags still on. I am, in fact, not Miss Cellophane cause you gotta notice the girl who is fashionably late. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | Last night, at about 9:30 I had the bright idea of going to see “Raising Helen.” Some friends had already seen it and since I had no work the next day I could handle to the late night showing at 9:55. So, I hopped in the car and raced to the West End to the stadium seats. It was me, and three couples. Wonderful, nothing like smug couples on a Thursday night date. Whatever. I took my own row, settled in and put my feet up. I love the movies. I started going to movies alone about 5 years ago when in college an impossibly popular co-worker divulged her love of going to movies on her own. I was appalled and shocked. Why in the hell would a 20 year-old, blond, size 2, charming, and smart girl ever go to the movies by herself? She explained that her mother did it and that she liked it. She would often be shopping and find a movie on and just go. I thought she was brave. It took me a good year before I braved the movies alone. It must have been uneventful, as I don’t even remember the movie that ended my solo movie going virginity. Now, I don’t even think twice about it and yet I think I’m still a bit of a rebel in the venture. I don’t think my friends do this. I even have a friend who doesn’t like to rent movies alone. Movie watching is a solitary act anyway, unless, of course, you are at home snuggled up on a couch. So, if a movie is out that I want to see and no one else does, or I’m near a movie theatre and see something interesting, or I’m bored at home and need to do something other than stare at myself, I’ll go to a movie, alone. No big deal, it just happens. So, last night was “Raising Helen.” Sad bit of a movie if you ask me. The plot was weak and lame and not well thought out. There were scenes were I literally wanted to rewind and rewrite and then there were the ever present continuity issues where the clothes in one scene are the same in the next scene although it’s a different day. This movie overall has bad writing, bad editing, and not really great acting although I still adore Kate Hudson, John Corbett, and Joan Cusak. What were they thinking? Anyway, good premise, just not well done. And, I’m beginning to rethink things about my friends who said it was “so cute.” And then, because I could, I went Wal-marting at midnight. I stepped into the Wal-mart at 12:15am and spent the next 45 minutes shopping the supper center. It was fabulous and surreal. Tons of people were about, mostly Wal-mart workers restocking the shelves and a few customers. There were boxes everywhere, which you had to navigate around. The restockers would sometimes give me weird glances like it was crazy that I was bargain shopping in the middle of the night on a Thursday. Please, like it’s not weird that you are working at Wal-mart in the middle of the night. Yarn was had because well, the kitting has not stopped. And then, because I could, I got some fresh produce and checked out at 1am. Wonder if that is what Sam Walton envisioned for his supper store? |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | So, I went to the doctor yesterday to get a mole checked out. Since I had blistering sunburn 10 years ago, I have been cautious with suspicious items on my skin. Turns out that melanoma does not necessarily strike the area that was burned (interesting). And the mole or whatever seems to be nothing (thank God). This was my first visit to this doctor in Richmond so I had to fill out all the info. sheets and sign away my life, literally. Well, since it was the last day of school I had a little trouble leaving when I wanted to and then when I got to the hospital there was an unexpected game of chicken for the limited parking spaces. So, I finally grab one and walk quickly through the soupy, muggy air (wearing jeans no less) and make it to the fourth floor about 7 minutes late for the appointment. I get my papers and sit down. I write and write and then pause to actually read the clauses before I sign them when the receptionist moves the glass plate that blocks out the waiting area (um, it’s glass people, we can still see and hear you) and this is what she says “Miss Banana, the nurse is waiting for you because she was expecting you at 3:30. Can you write faster because you’re late?” “Yeah, OK,” I say. And then it dawns on me that I should have stood up on a chair or something and announced to the waiting area “Hi, my name is Anna and I’ll be late today.” |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | I woke up early this morning to a fog, a thick fog over the city. It nestled in the trees in the courtyard of my apartment building. It was tranquil and quieted the morning like a blanket of snow. I haven't seen a fog in years, probably becuase I sleep through them. But today, the fog mimiced the fog I've been under for the last few days. Not a bad fog, just a mindless, in a daze fog where I leave important, confidential documents on a copier, don't put an important piece of info. into folders, can't comprehend questions asked of me, can't understand what I am reading. I've been in a haze but, now, it's mid-day and the fog is gone, the sun has burned it away. It's the last day for teachers, my files are completed, I've helped other teachers clean up their rooms and mail letters home. School is out. We're done. One year down, a million more to go. But, for now, for the summer, I'm free. Plans for the beach, LA, and NYC are being made, and of course all the weddings. Happiness abounds with the sunshine raining down. Pool days and sleeping in and reading books and unexpected trips and movies and relaxation and freedom. It's good to be a teacher when it's summer in the city. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | Sex and The City on TBS. The girls are back. Fall in love people, all over again. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | And by that I mean Knitters Anonymous because I am addicted. I decided to pick up knitting again this weekend and have so far knitted 2 scarves and begun three more. I'm obsessed. I even raced after school to a knitting store that closes at four so that I could buy way too much yarn for half price. But, at least my friends will nice have nice yarn in their scarves instead of the Walmart brands. I want to constantly be knitting. I've even started knitting in bed with no lights on. That's right, knitting in the dark, sexy. And yesterday, I had to refrain from taking the knitting to the bathroom with me. Knitting is on the brain so much that it's all I think about (at least for the last few days). Like, when I'm at work or out with friends I keep thining 'I really wish I had my knitting right now. I really want to finish that scarf.' It's like I need a bumper sticker that says I'D RATHER BE KNITTING. And no, there is no purling, just kniting and knitting and knitting. See the obsession, it's bad and well, I need to get back to the needles and the yarn. Tonight was yet another wedding related event, a surprise semi-shower for the friend and co-teacher. Enough with the wedding stuff already. The showers and the bachelorette parties and the girl's weekends and the weddings. I mean there is no money left, the well is dry. I'm really going to be weddinged out by November. 'Dear Lord, make me a bird so I can fly far far away. Dear Lord, make me a bird so I can fly far far away.' Or maybe, I'll just bring my knitting and then it will all be bareable. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | Woke up around 11:30 which really not that late, but considering it was drunk sleep, it was far to early. Too much bachelorette partying. My head hurt and I felt like a ton of bricks hit me so back to bed I went at 2 pm for a long nap. I don't even know how I got that drunk or if I was that drunk. I didn't drink that much, although people were handing us shots all night, but those fruity shots don't have much alcohol in them. And, I had my wits about me at the end of the night. I was probbably the most sobber one there. So, what the hell with the hangover? Anyway, it's currently 5pm and I need to get on with my day, or what's left of it. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | It’s summer, well almost and not officially, but heat wise; it is summer in the city. Poor Virginia, it is plagued with humidity and hot summers. I know our summers are not like Texas summers or Louisiana summers, but they are hot enough for me. I don’t believe in snootiness, but sometimes I wish I were a person who “summers” somewhere else if just to get away from the nastiness. Maine, Maine sounds good, or maybe even Canada. The only thing really good about the heat is that pools open and there are trips to natural bodies of water. Every year my family takes a beach trip. I actually hate sand and saltwater, but I love the laziness of a beach week. I take about ten books and I just read and play with children and read some more. And then there is, of course, the eating of the shrimp and crab. There is always the eating of the shrimp and crab. But, before and after the beach, there is the pool. Growing up we belonged to our local Elks Club, an organization I really don’t understand except that there were usually old men there at any given time throughout the day and they could be found at the bar inside the clubhouse. I’ve never found out what the organization stood for or against and as soon as the last child (me) went to college, my father’s membership ran out. We used the place for the pool and the pool only. The local pool, a place where you learn to swim from the coolest man you have ever seen because he wears sunglasses underwater, where you strengthen friendships over adult swim breaks and during “shark” in the deep end, and where you tackle the fear of the “high dive.” I never joined the swim team, but I was a lifeguard for 2 summers. Lifeguarding is the best job ever invented. Sometimes I think about going back to lifeguarding with my summers off, but then I think that the current 16 year olds would find me a bit strange and I would certainly not fit into their lifeguarding clique. That’s OK. I got my lifeguarding kicks back in the day anyway. I just really miss the twirling, the twirling of the whistle while sitting in the tall chair with a high vantage point, the sun so strong you can see your legs tanning before you eyes. The pool is now what I go to with my nieces and nephew. None know how to swim yet, but I am determined to solve that one. My favorite thing to do with them is to take each one, individually, in my arms and pull them across the pool from the shallow to the deep end. On the cross-pool treks, our faces close together, we pretend different things, sometimes they practice kicking or just floating. When water rushes into their mouth and nose I know it’s a 50/50 chance of them quitting the trek mid-pool. But, the other day, my precious niece coughed it out and swallowed hard then said, in three year-old voice, “Annie, I want to ride the waves again.” You see, we were pretending to be on the ocean and waves were gently bouncing us up and down (hence the water in the nose from the crashing wave). I love the pool. I love that it turns a three year-old into a chlorine swallowing wave rider. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | There is this guy I know, but he shall remain nameless, although I might be related to him. I adore this guy. He is one of the funniest people I know and whenever I am around him I know that we will be laughing so hard that we fall over. However, last night I discovered he is the biggest dork I know. And this is why. We both love Apple. We are both obsessed with Apple. Like last week I emailed him about the new urlLink Apple Airport Express and he emails me back and is like “I was reading about it just when you emailed.” And then the next day he calls me and we chat for like half an hour about how the world really needs to know that Apple is so superior and really people would be happier if they just owned an Apple and businesses were run on Apples. We discover it is a futile attempt, but our love for Apple will never die. This guy is a certified Windows programmer and even interviewed for a job at Microsoft so his love for Apple is even more special than mine. He converted about 4 years ago and has not looked back since. In fact, he’s a little pissed at people who like PCs. He loves Apple so much that he gets magazines about Apple and somehow is in the loop of rumors about the new products they are creating. I know there are rumor websites and he probably surfs them. It’s all a business related obsession since he programs all day. I have to confess that if I understood all that computer jargon, I would be in on it too. I just don’t have time to learn all that stuff about computers, I just know I love Apple. I also know that he is my Apple lovin' hero and he is there to dispense knowledge should I have a technical quetions. He rocks my Apple lovin' world. Well, so last night he was telling me about the last issue of urlLink Mac World . urlLink Alton Brown gave an interview and developed a special recipe to celebrate Apple. The name of the dish is APPLE MACaroni and Cheese. “Ew,” he said. “Yeah, weird,” I said. Then, this guy that I adore,went on to tell me that at the last Mac Expo (or whatever) when Steve Jobs gave his closing statement, he had a friend over to his house during their lunch hour and they watched it on the internet while eating MACaroni and then for dessert they had APPLEsauce. Oh, dear one, I still, still, adore the hell out of you! |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | Ronald Regan's body will be lying in state on Thursday at the capitol in DC. I’m thinking about going. Although I don’t really have the money to spend on gas, when will I ever get to see a president lying in state in the near future? And really it’s not about the pomp and circumstance, it’s about Ronnie. He’s the only president I feel personally connected to and it’s not about his politics or his cuddly nature and love for his wife or that even a president can be human and have family problems too. It’s about birthdays. You see, ole Ronnie and I have the same birthday. Big deal you say, you also share it with Bob Marley. But, Bob didn’t send me a birthday letter when he was president. Ronnie did. It was 1988, I was eleven and this was the last year for Reagan in the White House. I thought my sharing his birthday was the coolest thing. I had no idea what his politics where nor did I care. I considered myself a Republican then because my parents were Republicans and so this extra kinship with Ronnie felt strong. My mom had the brilliant idea of sending him a birthday card and announcing the importance of the shared date. I was a little apprehensive, how exactly do you tell a stranger, much less a president, that you have the same birthday? Why would he even care? Well, we bought a card and wrote a note. I’m sure my mom helped craft the sentence or else it would have been something like “I was born on Feb. 6 too. Happy Birthday Mr. President.” And, well, that’s probably what it did say. So, off went the card and about 3 weeks later arrived a letter from the White House. It was the most exciting day of my eleven year-old life. My family was thrilled too. I learned of his death on Saturday night after a full day spent with old college friends. A friend was looking at the now framed letter on my living room wall and said that Reagan had died today. “What?” I thought. Then I thought about peace and that it seemed so expected and so natural. I’ve dealt with Alzheimer's in my family and it is trying disease, on everyone. I told my friends that it was probably for the best for him and his family. Then I went to the letter. He, or a staff writer, wrote a short and sweet letter. It is typed on a typewriter. The date is off-center from the letterhead and the eagle emblem. It begins by acknowledging our “mutual birthday.” Then, in presidential fashion, goes into the history of Febuuary birthdays including George Washington and Abraham Lincoln. He tells me to study these great men and hopes they will inspire me the way they have inspired him. The letter ends with Mrs. Raegan joining him in his wishes and may God bless me. His name is signed simply “Ronald Reagan,” no mention of president anywhere. We think he really signed it. It doesn’t seem to be a stamp. I will probably never truly know. But, it doesn’t matter. My eleven year-old heart knows he touched this letter somehow. In the bottom left hand corner is my full name and childhood address. My name has a typo. Since the beginning of the letter I have gone from Anna to Anny. At eleven, this typo crushed me. Now, it is endearing. It makes the whole letter so much more real, so much like the man who’s birthday I share. Dear President Reagan, I am honored to have shared your birthday. Every February 6 I will continue to remember your birthday and those of the other great presidents you mentioned. Washington and Lincoln were truly amazing, but they don’t mean as much to me. I can’t look over at my wall and see their handwriting. I loved your letter and will always cherish it. May you and your family find the peace you deserve and thank you, from my eleven year-old self and from me now, for all you did for our world. Sincerely, Anny |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | J. is a “military brat.” She’s been all over the country and Germany, her family moving from place to place every few years. Somehow she has roots in the mid-west and Virginia. I’m thankful for those Virginia roots, happy they brought her friendship to my door, literally. Ohio claimed her during undergrad. She was a Buckeye. I guess she still is. I’d like to think she is more a Wahoo, but it’s not my choice who wins out. The Buckeyes could probably kick our Wahoo’s football ass any day. J. now lives in Austin and owns a home there. Her settlement came by way of Miami and Seattle, her traveling childhood brought to the surface in young professionalhood. She’s an audiologist. I think she is resilient. She lived 3 doors down from me in one of Thomas Jefferson’s original rooms at his University. We had fireplaces, wood floors, a sink inside a closet, and a bathroom we had to walk outside to use. Not exactly an outhouse, but close enough. We were in grad. school, but J. was only there for one semester. We spent hours chatting in our rooms, at night walking from room to room in our pajamas, outside. When she left it was winter and cold, the freezing temps. had been lifted by fires in our fireplaces. Our individual rooms heated the old fashion way. J. was the best at making a fire that didn’t smoke the room out. I was sad to see her go and begged her to stay, to change her practicum placement to Virginia, not Kentucky. But her plans were made far before any of us moved to the Range. So she left but came back for Foxfields and a New Year’s party in a cabin in the woods. J. is a good friend. She is smart, logical, sensible and yet just as neurotic as I am (well maybe not). We talk about how much our lives have mirrored each other’s while she moved from state to state or country to country and I lived in the same pink bedroom for 18 years. I’m so glad she stayed for that last semester. I’m so glad she couldn’t find an apartment or dorm room for those few months. I’m so glad we are friends. And I love her couch or air mattress in her tiny cross-country apartments. She’s an anchor in my life, a friend who will always be there and never feel that far away no matter the actual distance. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | Restaurants are closing or are closed by now. It’s late, but you’re hungry. You’re not sure you want to cook, but you really want a salad. Drive to Ukrop’s on your way home. Rifle through your dashboard CDs looking for Emmylou Harris. You need Emmylou’s mellow voice to match your mellow mood. She’s not there, but you’re happy you find Johnathan Rice. Put it in the CD slot. The volume is louder than you expect but you don’t change it realizing “Quiet Hushed Voices” is what you were really craving. Sing along to it with the sunroof open. Don’t mind the people in the parking lot looking at you with bass flowing out the open windows. Keep singing the words. Park, knowing you are only pausing the moment. Enter the automatic doors. Pick up romaine lettuce and chevre. A salmon fillet is a sudden passing desire; you grab it, and hummus, for snacking. Check yourself out in the self-serve lane. Get back in the car. Turn the key and hit the sunroof button. Keep the duet with Johnathan going. Feel your brother’s bass in the floorboards and through the speakers in the door. This is good music. Know that you can’t go home. You want to drive and listen and feel the wind. There are no mountains here, no country roads just 5 minutes away. There is the highway. Head toward home, but pass it. Make the right hand turn you make every morning on the way to work. Bare left this time. Take the toll road, the Downtown Expressway. You need a hit from the city buildings; the skyline up close and 50¢ is worth it. Pass Rosewood and the U of R Stadium. Put Johnathan on repeat. Slow at the toll booth until the SmartTag signals a green light to keep going. Speed up, a horse out of the gate. Get the center lane. Pass VCU and the Cherry St. overpass. Pass the 2nd St. exit and Thomas Jefferson’s Capitol building. Go under a quarter mile of overpasses with lights burning a fluorescent tunnel. Emerge to the buildings of downtown Richmond. Wonder why so many lights are on. Follow the signs to 95 North and 64 West, Washington and Charlottesville. Curve around on the highway bridge through low buildings. Look out the window, to the left, at the taller lit buildings. {I want to love this city.} Be amazed that you are driving so close to the bricks and concrete. See the clock tower of the renovated Main St. train station on the right side, you can almost touch it. Sing with Johnathan. Get off at the Broad St. exit. Go quickly through Shockoe Bottom. Remember the recent attacks here. Get back to 95 going South this time to Petersburg. Stay in the right hand lane, curve right at exit 73C toward the Powhite. Imagine you are not driving but are suspended, floating through these buildings, under the highway above you. Look through the windows of La Difference. Wish you understood the difference. Go back through the tunnel of lights. Pass the Jefferson Hotel and the Governor’s Mansion. {I want to love this city’s history.} Pass the exit for the Boulevard. Quell the wish to live there in an apartment alongside Virginia’s museums and with a balcony. Go on to Cary St. Go to your home. Park and walk to your building. With the full moon behind say quietly and to no one 'I want to love this city.' Unlock you door. Put down your bags. Wash you hands. Decide it’s too late for salmon. Get a large bowl out. Pour the salad into it. Begin to toast pecans from the freezer. Crumble the chevre over the lettuce. Pour on your homemade balsamic dressing. Add the toasted pecans. Take a bite as you walk to the living room, to your computer. Realize you are a good cook, that this salad should be on menus. Sit down at your laptop. Put Johnathan on again. Listen to him, and write this. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | Rrrrrrrring Me: Hello. Them: (silence) Me: Hello Them: Yes, is this Mrs. So and So Me: Yes* Them: Hi Mrs. So and So. I’m calling for the Richmond Fraternal Order of Police Me: Hello. I’m sorry, did you think I was home? I’m actually not able to answer your call right now. Gotcha! Ha Ha! Please leave a message, unless this is a computer operated telemarketer in which case do not ever call me again or I will BITE YOU. If this is the Richmond Fraternal Order of Police then also do not call me again unless you have actually done something about the 10 murders that happen each month in our fair city, especially those that happen around the schools I teach in. When I feel good and safe about driving to the schools I teach in, those schools which sadly produce men that will kill others on the same streets, I’ll answer you’re call. And listen, we’re working on educating kids that don’t kill. We’re trying. I’m not so sure about your fraternal orderness. So, until that time, Stop. Calling. Me.** *I’m thinking, “I’m not a Mrs. which means you are a telemarketer asshole cause no one else calls me Mrs.” **What I really said was, “I’ve asked you five times to stop calling me, especially early in the morning and especially on Sundays.” This was followed by an abrupt click. Sometimes, I wish I was a quicker with the unsolicited phone call comebacks. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | It's all about the gmail. New email to the right. Read it, copy it, paste it, write it, send it. In short, email it to me, the gapgirl is ready for mail. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | I’m sitting at the Getty along a path to the side of one of the buildings. I’m in the shade and leaning against the structure’s massive stonewall. I’m on a pathway to a terrace though it’s a path that is almost hidden. People have to navigate around me as they walk through. I wish they’d go away and leave this public space private, for me only. I can see a vast view of LA from where I sit from the hills to the oceans. Ahead and slightly to the right is a small clump of tall buildings that make up downtown. Beverly Hills is just below me. There is a fire billowing on a mountain a few miles away. It’s in Santa Clarita a passerby says. The smoke won’t reach LA because the winds blow toward the east, toward the mountains. It looks both ominous and soft, like a cloud. To the left and over the hills from the Getty is the Valley and Pasadena, though I can’t see them I know they are there with clichéd houses and perfect lawns. There is smog that hangs in the air between the landscape and the sky, a visible reminder of this cities population. To my right, if I careen around I can see the sea and Catalina Island poking its head just above the haze. The 405 are below me and the traffic crawls from north and south. Planes line up in the sky ahead, waiting to land at LAX. This city is huge, a massive gallimaufry of rich and poor, everyday and famous. The rich build houses on the mountains or even cliffs, ignoring the impending possibility of earthquakes. They look like cracker or thin wafers that could tumble down like rocks sliding. California has it’s own style to everything, but the houses in LA interest me the most. Their style is a mix of Mediterranean, Spanish, and American classic. The rich, modern houses are minimalist with hard lines and lots of glass, but mostly there is stucco, tan and smooth. It is the red brick of southern California. The Getty is an amazing place. , a free art museum, open to the public. But, people don’t usually come for the art; they come to see the Getty. It is a vast structure of buildings placed on a hillside overlooking all this city has to offer. It is made of an off-white stone creating straight lines and curved walls. The landscaping is immense, green, and perfect. Fountains pop up in many places, an offering of serenity. The buildings are so large that looking back on them from on of the many terraces and seeing people walking around on the balconies and inside through the glass, they look like tiny bugs, like insignificant, unimportant things. People stand against the railings where I sit. They squint and point trying to comprehend what they see. The wind is strong at times on this hill. They sun beats down an arid hotness, but in the shade of the building, a chill awaits. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | Happy Birthday A.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What to say about A.? Only she will know what the title of this post means. She is a dear college friend whom I lived with for 4 years, 4 crazy party filled and chilled out years. When I first met her I didn’t think I liked her because she is so honest that it can be abrupt at times. Then, her roommate went home for an extended time due to illness and A. and I became good friends and I saw her kinder, gentler side. I ended up staying in her roommates bed quite often because my roommate was a freak of nature and I just needed to get away even if it was across the hall. I’m so glad we became friends and that she is in my life. A. is the kind of friend who is there for you no matter what. She’ll be there to help you move in to your new apartment or celebrate you graduation a year after she celebrated her own. She is honest and doesn’t judge. When confronted with people who are quite strange she says, “it takes all kinds to make the world go round.” We use to rag her in college because the words “my mommy says” preceded almost every piece of factual or advice laden talk. Well, her mommy did a great job. She is a great girl and a good friend. She married a few years ago. He is a boy who counteracts all that we college friends thought she was. He is country and mild mannered and loves hunting and listens to country music and watches racing. A. was a bit wild in college so when we found out her choice we were a little confused. It turns out that the domesticated life filled with good cooking and family all around is really her true self. Her in-laws love her as much as we do and she has found a niche for herself and her husband. They are beginning to build a house on 20 acres of land in the country soon. I tell her that as soon as she puts a pool in I’ll be there. I bow to A. and P. land on this auspicious day and bid you a good one. May tiny pictures from walmart decorate the halls. Happy Birthday, ~ Azafata. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | Why people? Again, google has sent someone to my site who typed in 'together to pee.' I just... I just... don't understand. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | Ahh, little Elizabeth Bishop was so right. So, I've lost my keys. They are in North Carolina. I am not. I didn't realize I didn't have them until I awoke from the early morning drive back to my parents' house. Many phone calls later, they are hopefully being fedexed to me and will arrive Tuesday sometime. I'm trapped at my parents' house which isn't bad except when you want to be in your home, you want to be in your home. And I, want to be in my home. Say some prayers people, may fedex not lose THAT package. I've never lost my keys before and really it's not a huge deal though it may look like (WRITE it) like disaster. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | The LA chronicles are not over, but I have been busy washing clothes, making gifts, and repacking for another weekend of wedding festivities. So, I’ll be away from bloggerland for another few days. In the meantime go to my little blogchild’s site. Yes, yes, Anna has a child, in bloggerland that is. Go, read, comment. urlLink WahooBuckeye needs you. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | with another city. I never thought I would like Los Angeles. Never. I thought I was an East Coast girl through and through. Turns out, I could go either way. Los Angeles isn’t anything I thought it would be. It wasn’t as flashy as I had imagined. It didn’t seemed as pretentious as it looks on TV and there was no preparing me for the weather. LA was amazing and good to me. I tend to fall in love with most cities that I visit. Maybe it’s because travel is a carefree existence or maybe it’s because each city beckons to a different part of me. Why did I fall in love with LA? Well, it isn’t the rat race it seems to be or maybe I never came in contact with part of it. And the sun shines everyday. There are never clouds in the sky or rainy, mucky days (there are also not stars). I knew this about LA, but I didn’t believe it. My clouded East Coast brain couldn’t fathom endless days of pure sunshine. How could you be sad in a place like this because whatever happens, at least it’s a beautiful day. My love for LA is fleeting, though. I know when I am home I’ll settle back into the humidity and heat and then the cool air of fall and the snow of winter. I would miss the seasons if I lived here. Endless days of sitting by the pool would begin to disorient me. Life here would be like an endless vacation. It would be like play, like pretend, just beyond the touch of reality. And my love for LA is not true because it is shared with my love for London, New York, San Francisco, Seattle, and Morehead City. LA is just another city to add to the list of places I could live if I ever decided to pack up and leave the state and family I know so well. I never do make plans to move to the cities I love so much because I think if I lived there the magic would begin to disappear after a time and I don’t want that to happen. I’d rather hold these cities in my heart as perfect gems nestled on hillsides or islands or by the sea, covered in fog or basking in sunlight. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | Lots of things to say, but I'm tired and trying to get back to east coast time. I love and miss LA. It changed me. I'll tell ya all about it later. Time to watch movies and relax. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | I’m off to LA for fun in the sun with my best friend. It’s the last of a girl’s romp before she (you guessed it) gets married. I plan to do some touristy things and then just hang with my best gal pal. I miss her and I’ll miss her even more when she gets hitched because girlfriends change ever so slightly when marriage happens. I was hoping we’d hop over to Vegas for the weekend, but we’ve opted for time in LA with her fiancé. Well, I love them both, loads and loads. I’m excited to see them, either in a flashy city or just in their living room. Have to say though, kinda wish I was going to see a booby show. I’ll blog at ya next week. Blogger back ya’ll. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | We at mind the gap are a happy and loving lot. We like diversity and we like to celebrate with our friends when they have things to celebrate. Today is such a day! Today is Bastille Day in France, a day of celebrating the end of monarchal rule. And so, in honor of our French friends, a list of things we love from France, or things that France pimped out to us. • the Statue of Liberty • le baguette (yummy) • the colors of the French flag • fashion • le croissant (even yummier) • Dijon mustard • Champagne • Cannes Film Festival • toy dogs (because the French took them everywhere long before Paris Hilton was born) • Jaques Costeau • Les Mis (though in French it would be lost on me) • Jean-Marc Gaspard Itard and the wild boy of Aveyron • Matisse, Degas, La Tour, Cezanne, Monet, Rodin, Renior, to name a few • Joan of Arc • “Let them eat cake.” This list does not endorse the loving of all things French because those French bastards didn’t go to Iraq with us so we said the hell with you too. Our amazing and welcoming country forgot that French troops helped us in the American Revolution and about the gift that France once bestowed on us, the Statue of Liberty, and said, 'We’ll call French fries, Freedom fries instead,' ignoring the fact that French fries are actually from Belgium. “Ha, take that you French bastards,” our government said. Well, those French bastards were pretty spot on and had a sense that Bush was blowin’ smoke about weapons of mass of nothin’. Damn those French bastards! Happy Bastille Day everyone! |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | The Shakers say it is a gift to be simple and a gift to be free. “Simple Gifts” is an old shaker song written in 1848 and it is one of my favorites. It is a song about simplicity, but it also says that “when we find ourselves in the place just right, we will be in the house of love and delight.” While the house of love and delight sounds like a cheesy, incense burning, hippy joint, the sentiment is what gets me. I like the idea that when we are true to ourselves we will find the simplicity of life which ultimately brings peace. But it’s not always so such a simple gift. We are all given gifts to some degree. We are can run companies, we can cook amazing food, we can play an instrument, we can balance budgets, we grow a garden, we can teach someone to read, we can diagnosis symptoms, we can write, we can act, or we can see the world differently through the lens of a camera. We all have talents and gifts which should be a part of our everyday lives. The act of doing what you are good at, what you are talented in, is itself simplicity and freedom. My cousin B. is an amazing photographer. She has an eye like no one I’ve seen. She loves taking pictures of things like rust and wood. She can take scenery and portraits, but these are not her specialty. Those shots are easy and generic, anyone can do them. The passion she sees through her lens are things we would easily pass over. B. hones in on the things that we feel corrode of corrupt surfaces. Somehow, B. finds the beauty in them and she shows rust and corrosion as art. And she does it so well. She has never sold a photograph and has pretty much stopped taking pictures creatively when she left college. All because the cost of taking and developing pictures is too much for her budget. I’m saddened by this and I tell her often that she has to start taking pictures again, that she has to use her gift. It is a gift to be simple and a gift to be free and sometimes we have to fight to use those gifts. If our favorite writers and actors and doctors and teachers didn’t use their gifts, where would we be? How many times has your life been changed by someone else’s gift? I know that B. is scared and I understand it. Putting your creative self out for the world to reject is a terrifying thing. But that simple Shaker song says that “When true simplicity is gain'd, To bow and to bend we shan't be asham'd, To turn, turn will be our delight, Till by turning, turning we come round right” So bow and bend B., simply use your gift, you’ll turn round right. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | Numero dos is done. Two weddings down, three to go. The other day I received yet another wedding invitation. As I perused the oh so familiar oversized envelope I wondered, “Who the hell is getting married now?” I thought I was aware of all the weddings for this season. Apparently now, but I was relieved to find out it is a second cousin. I’m not close to her, so the pain of another wedding was lessened at bit. It would actually be fine if I didn’t make it to this one. But, it is in Florida in September. Either that would be a great time to get a last minute tan or to see the wrath of a fabulous hurricane since it is the beginning of that season. I don’t know if I’ll go. It would really be a weekend of hanging out with the rents which, let’s face it, I do enough of in my own apartment when they decide to come visit, often. I am; however, quite happy for this cousin as it is her second time of engagement though the first for actual invitations. She’s in her late thirties and that alone gives me a bit of hope and room to breathe. Tonight was a great wedding. The drinks flowed and good food was served and we ate dinner overlooking a lake at sunset. There were people I’ve never seen before and familiar faces from all the showers and pre-parties. There were good friends and new friends and family. And there was dancing and pictures and smiling and happiness and love, lots of love all around. Starting at 3pm in a Catholic Church, I nestled in to back row pew and beckoned friends to follow suit. Our row, full of teachers, was the official peanut gallery. We could hear and eye everything from out backseats, the late comers, the whispers, the crying children, the brat child telling her mother to “shush,” we saw it all and yet WE kept quiet. Not being Catholic, we were worried that this would be what my Dad likes to call and “aerobics class” service. You know, up down, up down, kneel, up down, kneel, etc. But, my good friend L. and C. decided on a Catholic light service since they too are Catholic light, if anything. The wedding was short and pretty with well-chosen songs and readings. The parish was beautiful. I always love big, cathedral parishes; they almost make me want to be Catholic. I go to so many weddings that I could probably recite the scriptures and the vows by heart, but this wedding did not bore me and when L. walked down the isle with tears in her eyes I kinda welled up myself. I’m not a crier at weddings. In fact, I thought for a long time that I had a stone heart because of my lack of crying at weddings. Everyone else gets caught of in the emotions and you see women dabbing their eyes and bridesmaids pulling Kleenex wrapped about their bouquets. I’ve never needed a Kleenex at a wedding and have always though “Yeah, it’s a wedding, what’s the fuss, why are you crying?” But, today, for L., I understood a little more. She’s almost 31 and the tears in her eyes were the symbols of her waiting so long for that man who loves and respects her and that she in turn loves and respects. He’s not a perfect man, but he is one with whom she can share a life and so she cried for all that she is getting as she walked toward him. And when I saw her crying, walking with her father, I thought of myself and if I ever find that man I’m sure then that my stone heart will certainly melt and tears will run down my face as I walk toward him too. Cheers to L. and C., may you live happily ever after! |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | So I haven’t been great at blogging lately, especially since I returned from vacation. I even wrote those beach ones on vacation when I was up late at night and bored. But, now back at home there are things to distract me. I should be writing all day since I have no job, but I picked up a few kids to consult on and tutor so that takes up a few hours a week and then well, today, I’m just procrastinating. I have my final paper due for a class that finished on Tuesday night. The paper was actually due Tuesday, but she gave us an extension and I took it. I am the worst procrastinator. I will put things off until it is 2 hours to deadline, but this stress is really what gets my creativity and productivity going. I’ve tried to be diligent and work on things early and it is so lackluster that it seems a waste of time. I’ve tried to put my own deadlines on things to make me work on it and then go play, but no, again, I don’t fall for my own tricks. So, today, I probably should have turned it in sometime this morning, but she didn’t give us a time and so I haven’t started. But, now, now I’m getting ready to start. It should only take two hours or so, unless I read some blogs, or turn on the TV, or have to call that friend back, or have to find that CD that’s been missing for 3 months because only THAT CD will make me productive. Anyway, off to work on it, *wink*. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | I met him two weeks ago before I went to the beach. I’ve been thinking about him ever since and am so happy when I see him. He lights up my face and makes me feel like I have the best life in the world. He is amazing. I’ve even met his family and they are amazing. He has a brother and sister and his dad his handsome and his mother is kind. They are calm and centered and welcoming. On Monday, his mother gave me five ears of corn, just because. This boy is undescribable. It doesn’t matter what I write because you can’t possibly get the full scope of him. He has wisps of blond hair and blue eyes and when he says my name I melt. His personality shines even when he is in a different room. He is sweet and cuddly and playful and so much fun. And the reason that he lights up my day and makes me want to appreciate everything that I have is because he can’t walk because of a tumor on his spine and he has cancer and Downs Syndrome and he’s four years old. He deserves to live until he is 80 years old with a life filled with happiness and productivity and good people all around him. He deserves so much this little one, this boy that I met. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | Morehead City, NC. On the Bogue Sound. When you hit Morehead City limits you know you are at the beach. Windows are being rolled down and the warm, musty salt air begins to hit your face. Your hair begins to curl almost instantly. You know good grits are on their way too because beach water makes the best grits. You cross the bridge over the Bogue Sound and see a glimpse of that magical water, part lake, part ocean, part river, all saltwater and controlled by the tides. There are clams and oysters and sand dollars and porpoises in this water too and you wish you were staying on the sound. At the light after the bridge you take a right toward pine knoll shores, just a few miles away from Atlantic Beach, from you childhood. The house sits in front of the ocean, facing what seems to be an endless amount of water. You can’t believe there is actually something beyond the point that your eye can’t see. The horizon is so far away that you see whole clouds from top to bottom in the distance. Some nights, there are storms at sea, you see the lightning, but the rain and thunder never make it to shore. You wonder what good a storm at sea does, were any boats caught in it? Some days the wind is so strong on the beach that you have to stay in or go to the inlet or to Fort Macon or a day trip to Beaufort. Some days there is no wind and the heat comes off the sand like it is willing you to leave. Some days the rain comes in at lunchtime and moves you from your saltwater post. Everyday, you want more, more sand clinging to your toes, more saltwater up your nose. The ocean pummels and turns you out. You keep going back to it. In low tide there are tidal pools a short distance from the dune. These are your favorite. There is enough seawater to float you on a raft and as the tide is leaving there are enough waves to keep you moving. The tidal pool is the best of all worlds, no thought of a rip current and all the luxury of On calm nights the moon glows in the sky so bright that the reflection off the water mimics daytime. You swear you could see by it. You know that nighttime is the best time on the beach. The beach is yours then because no else ventures to the beach at night. You sit on the deck and look at the horizon or the shape of the moon. You feel like you have a secret that no one else really wants to know about. How could anyone not love the beach more at night? You don’t understand the fascination with the daytime, the sun and the rain, when the nighttime brings the moon and crabs and loggerhead turtles. You know the secret and though you try to share it, others prefer sleep. Soon you must leave the crystal coast of North Carolina. No other beaches in the world will compare. There is simplicity and elegance in North Carolina’s crystal coast. There are very few trappings of fancy dwellings or pools seamlessly flowing into the ocean. There are just beach houses, many are old, and some are new or just well kept. But the house isn’t important, it’s the beach the matters. It’s the weather and the sand and the promise of good shell hunts. It’s suntans and bathing suits and rinsing off before you come inside. It’s a morning swim then lunch then back again then dinner out. It’s beach towels draped over the deck at the end of the day. It’s the day’s catch on the pier or at the surf. It’s floppy hats and sun visors and sunscreen and big umbrellas. It’s rafts and buckets and shovels and sandcastles. It’s enduring the grit of the sand and the stickiness of the water. It’s the oldies station on the radio and it’s your family all around. It’s the beach in North Carolina and part of you doesn’t ever want to leave. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | A rental for a week for your family, but a house to someone else. The evidence of the family who owns the house is all around. The selection of beach reads on the bookcase in the hall, a small sampling of games with missing pieces in the living room, pictures of the grandpa who worked his whole life to buy the house, artwork from local artists, and the choice of curtains that don’t match the furniture. You enter a rental house like you enter a hotel. You know it is not yours yet you will treat it is such for the next week all the while ever thinking about the family who calls it “our beach house.” There have been houses that don’t lock things away. The fishing pole of the grandpa who bought the house when he retired hangs on the wall beckoning you to use it. So, you’re father does and on the first cast into the ocean he breaks it. It’s too bad the original grandfather is dead or your father would have apologized to him. Your whole family is a bit embarrassed, but your mother’s friend who rented the house said we were free to use the poles so your guilt is lessened a bit. Still, too bad about ole granddad. There are the houses that seem to want to share the experience with you. They leave out a guest book and brochures about the area. You glance at them. There have been visitors from as far away as Ohio or as close by as New Bern. Your brother calls the travelers from New Jersey and New York Yankees. You call them Yankees too, but not out loud. They tell stories of their weeks, how much their family loved the house, the good weather they were fortunate to have, and they note their favorite restaurants. You wonder why they choose to write what they write. The guest book is quaint, but you are happiest about the tide chart on the bulletin board, now you can start your vacation. Exploring the house, you can’t believe that people share their space so openly with others that they will never meet. The coffeepot and spoons and beds and pillows and sinks and bathtubs and deck chairs and lamps are all communal property. There are fragile things about and when your niece knocks over a lamp and it shatters feel sorry for the family again, but then you think that the owner’s expect these things; beach houses are for children too. You wonder how all the house was stocked. Did the owner’s really like the dark, dense fabric on the overstuffed couches or was the whole ensemble on sale? Did they pick up the appliances at a thrift store or are the leftovers from the family 1970s orange kitchen? Your family discusses the flaws in the house, in the decorations. They have ideas on how to make it better, what to paint or how to arrange the furniture. You are quick to remind them that it is better than any of their beach houses. Oh yeah, they don’t have beach houses. No one is amused. Some houses have a washer and dryer and this is a luxury. You do a million loads in one week, more than if you were at home and partly just because you can. You go home with clean clothes; this you realize is quite nice. Other houses have a linen service and beds are made for you and towels are provided. You feel a bit pampered by this, but you’d rather have the washer and dryer back. There are houses with air conditioning so strong you end up with a stuffy nose going from hot to cold to hot to cold. There are houses where your family breaks the AC and has to have the unit replaced midweek. You are again a bit embarrassed, but realize you are just helping with the maintenance of the place. Then there are houses with no air conditioning at all, just ceiling fans and the hope of good ocean breezes. These are your favorites. These remind you of camping in childhood. This is what the beach feels like to you, heat cut by cool breezes off the water. Days when there is no breeze you thank God for the invention of ceiling fans. It takes a good day to get use to the heat and the breeze, but when you do, you don’t ever want air conditioning at the beach again. You sleep in little clothing and one sheet, you like the simplicity of this type of house. In your mind you are always building the perfect beach house. It is oceanfront with enough bedrooms to house you immediate and extended family. It is not new, it is old and well worn, and there is a lot of wood. The oceanfront deck is partly covered and partly open to the elements. There are rocking chairs and a hammock. There is a table for eating and playing cards. A walk stretches to the dune where just before the stairs begin there is another small deck with seats built in and a shower hose for rinsing off. The house has most of its bedrooms on the first floor. Upstairs, at ocean view and deck level, there is a family room and kitchen and dining room in one space. There are many large windows. The dining room table is big enough to sit 12 and there are folding tables for extra company. You want your whole family here and you create a space that allows for it. Couches in the living room turn into beds. There is a good stereo with speakers throughout the house and the deck. Oldies beach music is always on. Every bedroom has a well-made ceiling fan and can be closed off to the rest of the house so that windows can be opened at night. There are beach chairs on the deck and in the garage, waiting for the sand. They are wooden with cloth backs. There are rafts and lifejackets and paddleball sets and kites and bachi ball. The house is always full of people. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | They wake up early in the morning to play together. They are little girls with smocked dresses and bows in their hair. They run around with high-pitched voices learning to share the toys they have brought, to the beach, to a family vacation. Little girl cousins are a special thing. They are automatic playmates and best friends. They share genes and are beginning to share their lives, their growing up. They clamor to the beach with all their might, they play in the sand for hours, filling buckets, dragging water from the surf, and hunting for shells. They are adorable in their bathing suits and their skin tans easily even through super strength sun block. Their fathers or mothers take them into the water and hold them safely from the waves. The tidal pools are a perfect depth. Rafts are their best toys, but sometimes it is just their hands and the sand and saltwater. They get dirtier than they have ever been and never seem to notice the grittiness, the stickiness. They don’t want to go into the house even after hours of playing, but they love to rinse off with the hose, a semi grown up shower for a little girl. Watching your nieces you relive your cousin time at the beach, at Salter Path Family campground, on the Bogue Sound. Your playground was the sound and your favorite things were floating on a raft on the calm water and clam digging. You and your cousins where obsessed with shells. You hunted them tirelessly throughout the days on the beach or at the inlet at the north end of the island. At the end of the shell hunts, you surveyed your treasurer. You memorized the shapes and names, the olives and whale eyes and baby cradles and cigarettes. It is years later that you realize, browsing through shell books that some names were made up by your mothers, sisters. The next morning, you woke up early to set up shop. You took boxes your mothers had packed in, turned them upside down, and laid old towels on top. You set out your shells by the side of the road in the campground. You sold seashells by the sound. You were thrilled with every purchase. After a few days of selling, you and your cousins and mothers would walk the path of the campground to the real shell shop near the main road. You were amazed with the polished shells. You bought cleaned sand dollars and gold-rimmed hermit crab shells and rope bracelets. Your cousin still loves shells and houses them in glass jars in her home. You don’t need them around you anymore, but when you see shells or revisit the beach or see little girl cousins playing, you wish for the days at Salter Path, for the shelling and sound. You wish for you cousins and you hope the new cousins will long for their beach days and each other when they are older. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | -tutor precious cancer boy -workout -lunch -clean car, take it to be vacuumed, use oxyclean to scrub stains from coffee spills, organize all the teaching supplies and put in the way back so as not to encroach upon passengers in the back or front passengers seat any longer -organize office so that there is actually a desk to use as a desk -wash clothes so that you can even walk into the office -setup airport so that I am not confined to my living room anymore -dust and vacuum because the dust bunnies are breeding, fiercely -write thank you notes to R and B, and B because I stayed at their house and/ or received a gift from them like 3 months ago (or longer) -make CD for K and J because they rock and they need the “I’ve Come Along Way” by Michelle Shocked running through their heads as they drive around L.A and also feel my pain -wrap wedding presents for L and for S because L is already a Mrs. and I need to give S’s present to my parents this weekend -email about bach. party for K because invites need to go out soon and we don’t even know what city it’s going to be in (I suck as MOH, aka Maid of freakingHonor) -somewhere along the line, when I can’t take the stench anymore, take a shower As you can see, a busy day ahead. Let’s just see how much actually gets done. And no, I have nothing else in my head to write about. Sorry. |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | “ urlLink Stuart Weitzman . OhMyGod we have to go in. They’re having a sale.” I say to K. Poor K has no idea what or who Stuart Weitzman is. “Sure,” she says and we enter. The store on Rodeo is small yet two salespeople greet us at the door. They actually talk to us and welcome us and tell us about the sale. We have just come out of Ralph Lauren across the street where I found, but did not buy, a pair of purple leather mules on sale for half price at $495. I knew Stuart could be much more affordable in department stores, but I expect the Rodeo store to have sales where shoes were still $200- $300. I am wrong. Every shoe on the sales rack is $75. “Hot damn,” I think “I just might buy something on Rodeo Drive, baby.” K and I try on several pairs. I find some fabulous black satin high heels with an impossibly cute bow covering the toe. K finds some strappy white heels that she considers for her wedding day. We each buy nothing, coming back to the reality that even at $75 a pair; we don’t live a Stuart Weitzman life. We leave, the salespeople shockingly bidding us a good day. We are tired by this 2nd hour on Rodeo. We have seen José Eber outside his salon, a woman clutching her toy dog in urlLink Chanel , huge canary diamonds at urlLink Van Cleef & Arpels , a rail thin blond model standing as a bored yet beautiful greeter at urlLink Dior , and the back, private entrances to urlLink Armani and urlLink Gucci . We are heading toward the car, parked in the sun in a free space in front of someone’s small bungalow and perfectly manicured green lawn. I am thirsty, having downed my bottle of water noisily in Gucci while walking among the fur trimmed dog beds covered in Gs. We think we were done with the pseudo shopping and the mouth gaping staring and then all of sudden we walk across Plexiglas ovals in the sidewalk. Below the “windows” were human size ant holes with manikins ironing or just posing. There are three of them, two girls, one boy. “What the hell,” I think. K and I look above us and there is no sign, just a massive metallic rectangle as big as a Mack truck above us. People are milling about in the opening to this, store? The entrance is set back and it is all open, there are no doors, but there are two huge human sculptures with no heads resting just under the ceiling. They seem to be holding up the second floor yet they don’t quite touch it. K and I walk in, we don’t know what else to do, we are transfixed. Inside there are concrete walls and before us a massive staircase that spans across the room leaving narrow “halls” along either side. We walked down the left side and set into the wall there seems to be a concierge of sorts, a young brunette manning a phone. “Is this a hotel?” I think. Just past the concierge’s window there are low tables and set into the concrete walls are lit shelves at hip level. Things are strewn about. Bags, shoes, just stuff covering everything, but with no sense of order. I look closely at one of the bags and see the distinguishable triangle with the word PRADA. I turn, “K, we’re in urlLink Prada ,” I gasp, my face looking quizzical and amazed at the same time. K doesn’t say anything. We keep walking. We come around to the back of the room and there is another set of stairs mirroring the ones in the front yet opposite so that the staircases make a large triangle in the room. We decide to go up, but have to navigate around shoes and the legs of manikins with no torso. “What the hell,” keeps running through my brain. At the top of the stairs we turn left and enter a room that runs like small hallways just above the space below so that on the right and left are narrow halls and in the front and back are slightly wider rooms over the stairs. The walls are green and look like swiss cheese. But, there are no smooth surfaces on the walls. There are only holes. I don’t understand it and I follow K’s hand to the wall. It’s plastic, green plastic swiss cheese, “What the hell?” The rooms are created with the swiss cheese walls on one side and glass on the other to keep you from falling down the stairs. There are metal racks of clothes along the swiss cheese walls with exactly 5 items on each. Thin, tan, bleach highlighted men in black walk around carrying an item or two. They are barely noticeable in this room, the fade, into the…air. When we turn the corner and hit the larger front room I spy the dressing rooms on the right side, above the stairs, I see two little girls playing inside, through the glass. I think, “I know Prada is weird, but who tries on clothes behind glass, in front of strangers?” Then, one of the girls hits something on the wall and the glass goes frosted. “What. The. Hell?” After I touch some $1500 mini skirts, we leave. K and I don’t understand what we have just seen. Was it real? It will be the topic of many conversations with K’s fiancé that week and it will be the first story I tell friends when they ask about L.A. I’ll say, “I’m going to tell you about Prada, but you won’t understand.” And when I’m done telling them about the swiss cheese walls and the frosted glass they’ll say things like “Weird,” or “Are you kidding?” And I’ll tell them that “yes, it sounds weird, but you still don’t understand. You really have to go. You have to experience it. Go to Prada on Rodeo. It’s worth the plane ride.” |
3,022,585 | female | 27 | Education | Aquarius | 01,August,2004 | I used to collect quotations. I’d culled them from quotation books or magazines or friends or even the daily email from Oprah’s website. I’d write them in a flowery printed journal in my best handwriting. I wanted to the believe the lines like “Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadow,” but, Helen Keller never saw a shadow though she lived within one. I wanted her words to show my how to not only look at the sunshine, but surpass it and become it. She did, why couldn’t I? For years my favorite quote was “We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” When I found it I thought Oscar Wilde was my soul mate, that he understood my plight. I even wrote it in fancy scrawl across a painted wooden board that held a curtain rod and hung it over 2 different bedroom windows. But, looking at the stars does nothing for trying to reach them and if you don’t come out in the daylight, the gutter must be a hot and miserable place. “You must do the thing you think you cannot do,” wrote Eleanor Roosevelt and she was right. You must in fact do the thing you think you cannot do. She was strong and brave and I trusted her words. She was the original Nike slogan, “Just do it.” These words pulled me through many papers and exams in college, but nothing, nothing in college or life could prepare me for what lay ahead. My first years teaching I was energetic and naïve and ready to take on the world. I loved what I did and felt absolutely called to do it. I thought that my teaching kids with autism was who I was. I thought it defined me and that everyone should revere me for the work I did. Those first years threw me into a tailspin of hatred and anger and bitterness and disappointment and fear and illness. I complained constantly and to anyone who would listen, but friendships and life were slipping away. Quotations and words of wisdom wouldn’t pull me through and there were many nights I just cried and prayed. I finally sought help and through a counselor learned that my life was full of unhealthy patterns and that I was the only one in control of what could happen in my life. I didn’t believe her and for 3 years cried and complained about all the things that happened TO me. Then I began to use her advice and let the control go. I had to learn to let go and forgive. I had to learn to let life take me where it would. I had to learn to do the thing I thought I could not do. I faced the shadows and the gutters and I’m still learning to leave them where they are, in the past. You can’t see the sunshine or stars clearly until you face their opposites. And no one and no quotation will help you truly get there. They can point the way, but you, you have to do the digging and nail biting eye to eye combat with all the bad things before you finally appreciate all the good ones and let happiness if not land, at least aim, at your doorstep, everyday. |
3,808,902 | female | 45 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 30,June,2004 | Well, this is a stretch for me- Mrs Tech-Challenged 2004! I must be out of my mind to start this, but then again I have been called crazy more than once in this life! I don't know how much I'll have to share so bear with me! I know that I will try not to be unfair to any person in my scope of friends- and will not spread gossip or slander anyone ! I only hope I will have something meaningful to say on occasion. WISH ME LUCK!!!!! KC in Fla |
3,808,902 | female | 45 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 30,July,2004 | Once again- for your giggle gene- My Friday Funny. Have a laugh my friends, it's better that a pill ( & this I know a little about lol) As I Mature........ As I mature I've learned that you cannot make someone love you. All you can do is stalk them and hope they panic and give in. I've learned that no matter how much I care, some people are just assholes. I've learned that it takes years to build up trust, and it only takes suspicion, not proof, to destroy it. I've learned that you can get by on charm for about fifteen minutes. After that, you'd better have a big willy or big boobs. I've learned that you shouldn't compare yourself to others - they are more screwed up than you think. I've learned that you can keep vomiting long after you think you're finished. I've learned that we are responsible for what we do, unless we are celebrities. I've learned that regardless of how hot and steamy a relationship is at first, the passion fades, and there had better be a lot of money to take its place! I've learned that 99% of the time when something isn't working in your house, one of your kids did it I've learned that the people you care most about in life are taken from you too soon and all the less important ones just never go away. Pass this along to 5 friends...trust me, they'll appreciate it. Who knows, maybe Something good will happen. If not...tough shit. P.S. Thanks Janine! Have a great Day- Love KC |
3,808,902 | female | 45 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 28,July,2004 | My day off, which means house work. God, I hate it! I usually work until 10:30 on Tuesdays, so the Hubby is home alone with the kids. Which is all right, he's great with them- but more often than not the house winds up getting trashed, while he is watching CNN in the bedroom! Then I have to clean up the 'aftermath' GRRRRR! I don't think that it's fair that the one day off during the week, that I would normally use as 'my time' I.E. web-surfing, gardening, reading , errands etc. should be taken up with cleaning the house for the second time in the week! ( Sunday is my cleaning day- top to bottom) I work all the rest of the time. I just did this shite 3 days ago! There are 5 people in this house damn-it! Why am I the only one that thinks toys all over the livingroom and 10 dirty glasses strewn around are upsetting??? Socks everywhere and HEY- a pair of size 4 toddler undies under the coffee table??!! Jeez- what happened last night? Or do I want to know???? What is that old comercial- 'Calgon- take me away!!!!............ lol ! |
3,808,902 | female | 45 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 27,July,2004 | All right, I know it's been a few days since I've been here- the truth is I didn't have anything of interest to say. That is, until I logged on last night and read the news..... A new man is now at the helm of Island records. At first I thought- so what? Just another corporate wonk to annoy all of us Lep fans. But after reading the article ( 3X, might I add) I've come to some conclusions. ( agree or disagree in my comments, I love a good debate!) 1- He seems to have come up the ranks from D.J. to Boss. This to me says he is a 'music lover', as opposed to a Businessman (accountant, paper-shuffler - you all get my drift, right?) 2- The fact that of ALL the 'established' artists that are managed by Island, He specifically mentions DL in the article makes me have hope! 3- The release of LLWTG- FINALLY! Better late than never, perhaps. But if he liked the song alone- wouldn't he have released Lionel Richies version? After all, that would be promoting a record which has just been released- as opposed to one that has been concidered ' dead in the water' for a while now. Now I know that I may be 'blowing smoke' here, but I can't help feel that this is a good sign for the days to come. and the fact that our beloved guys are eligible for the 'R&R hall of fame' as of 2005 ( you all know how I feel about THAT- and if you don't , see my tag line on the forums!;-) ) Having someone like him at the helm of the ship may just mean smoother waters ahead for our band. JMHO- And you'll forgive me if I hope that I'm right on this one! Cheers all, KC :-) |
3,808,902 | female | 45 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 23,July,2004 | > GIVE ME A SENSE of HUMOR, LORD > > >There is the story of a pastor who got up one Sunday and announced to his congregation: 'I have good news and bad news. The good news is, we have enough money to pay for our new building program. The bad news is, it's still out there in your pockets.' > >-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- > >While driving in Pennsylvania, a family caught up to an Amish carriage. The owner of the carriage obviously had a sense of humor, because attached to the back of the carriage was a hand printed sign... 'Energy efficient vehicle: Runs on oats and grass. Caution: Do not step in exhaust.' > >-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- > >People want the front of the bus, the back of the church, and the center of attention. > >-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- > >'Somebody has well said there are only two kinds of people in the world. There are those who wake up in the morning and say, 'Good morning, Lord,'and there are those who wake up in the morning and say, 'Good Lord, it's morning.' > >-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- > >A minister parked his car in a no-parking zone in a large city because he was short of time and couldn't find a space with a meter. Then he put a note under the windshield wiper that read: 'I have circled the block 10 times. If I don't park here, I'll miss my appointment. Forgive us our trespasses.' When he returned, he found a citation from a police officer along with this note. 'I've circled this block for 10 years. If I don't give you a ticket, I'll lose my job. Lead us not into temptation.' > >-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- > >A father was approached by his small son who told him proudly, 'I know what the Bible means!' His father smiled and replied, 'What do you mean, you 'know' what the Bible means?' The son replied, 'I do know!' 'Okay, said his father. 'So, son, what does the Bible mean?' 'That's easy, Daddy. It stands for 'Basic Information Before Leaving Earth.'' > >-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- > >There was a very gracious lady who was mailing an old family Bible to her brother in another part of the Country. 'Is there anything breakable here?' asked the postal clerk. 'Only the Ten Commandments.' answered the lady. > >-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- > >The minister was preoccupied with thoughts of how he was going to, after the worship service, ask the congregation to come up with more money than they were expecting for repairs to the church building. Therefore, he was annoyed to find that the regular organist was sick and a substitute had been brought in at the last minute. The substitute wanted to know what to play. 'Here's a copy of the service,' he said patiently. 'But you'll have to think of something to play after I make the announcement about the finances. >During the service, the minister paused and said, 'Brothers and Sisters, we are in great difficulty; the roof repairs cost twice as much as we expected, and we need $4,000 more. Any of you who can pledge $100 or more, please stand up..' At that moment, the substitute organist played 'The Star Spangled Banner.' And that is how the substitute became the regular organist! > >-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- > >Give me a sense of humor, Lord, Give me the grace to see a joke, To get some humor out of life, And pass it on to other folk Have a great weekend folks! I'll try to post some more tommorrow! Lep Hugs, KC :-) |
3,808,902 | female | 45 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 19,July,2004 | I know, I haven't been here lately- but I had a good reason. Lightening hit the power pole in back of my house, which took out our power & cable. I got the power back within a day, but the cable ( and my internet) took longer. There are times I wonder why these essential services are still above ground, and not in buried cables. After all, between hurricanes and Florida being the 'Lightening Capitol' of the U.S., it would make sense,Huh? And just when I thought things were getting back to normal, #2 child ( Andy) comes to me this morning with an earache. So off to the Dr. we go!! $20 at the dr. , and $50 dollars for the drops for his ear!!! I guess its P.B.& J. sandwiches for me 'til payday!! Hope you all are well, and I did manage a little time to get the links fixed ( sort of- lol) I'll get this web- crap eventually! Be well! KC |
3,808,902 | female | 45 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 15,July,2004 | Just a quick post before work to wish a fellow ' 40 and Fab' club member a very happy birthday! Have a wonderful day Kim! Have one on me Sweetie!! ;-) |
3,808,902 | female | 45 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 14,July,2004 | OK, after blowing off some steam, I though I'd try to get some links up. Well, they are not right again! though 3 of them are showing,I put in 6, and if you move the curser over one of them- 2 web addresses show up! GRRRRRRR! I really need to take a computer course or something. Any advice would be appreciated, since this is my 100th attempt, and I don't see anything wrong with what I put into the template. Ok, I'm gonna get off this thing for awhile- before this moniter winds up being a lawn ornament! Tata for now! |
3,808,902 | female | 45 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 10,July,2004 | Or Pissed or whatever! I got home last night from work and immediately my Hubby got in my face- ' why didn't you make the car payment??!' I did! I mailed the frigging thing Friday,the 2nd. Well, they haven't got the darn thing yet!!!! It was due last saturday ( at the latest) and I mailed it the day he got paid! This bank I have my car loan through is supposedly a highly respectable institution, but the problem is they are based in North Carolina- NOT Florida! the closest branch of this bank to me is 2 hours drive. They have a web-site, but no payment options ( unless you have an account with them ) and you can not make a phone payment either ( unless your pymt. is 10 days LATE!!???). And this is the bank that the 3 biggest car dealerships in this area use for car loans!WHY!?? I can pay any of my other bills on line/over the phone with no problem. Even my local water company will take payments over the phone ( po-dunk town that I live in!) BUT NOT this upstanding institution! So now, after talking with the rep from said bank, I will wait until this Friday, and if the check has not been recieved, they will call me and THEN take my payment over the phone. And I will have to pay the $30 fee to put a stop-payment on the check I sent, or end up paying twice ( which I can not afford!) Jeez- this Sucks! Off to throw a few pillows or something to vent! KC P.S.- I am still tying to get you all linked up- I put the link section in, but the sites I have entered are not showing. Give me a little time to figure it out- I will get it done! |
3,808,902 | female | 45 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 10,July,2004 | Today my eldest is turning 14. Though mothers are supposed to love all their children equally ( and I do!) this one holds a special place in my heart. I know, you all think- she's your first, that's why. But no, that's not it. You see, a mother gives her children life- but Becky has returned the favor. ( flashback) 12/27/2002- 9:30 pm. I had just goten home from work. Tired, but no more so than any normal day. Becky was up and asked if she could have ice cream. I remember saying that if she could get it herself, she could have it. The next thing I saw was some strange lady washing my hair. I was in the hospital, apparently having just had brain surgery. An Aneurysm that would have ended my life except for 1 thing. BECKY. She was there, and I have since learned, called 911, her dad, and gave me her breath to keep me alive. I would not be here if not for her. I love my daughter. Hug your child ( or anyone's child- they're all special) It might be the best thing you do! Happy Birthday Rebekah Leigh Fine! I love you! Mom :-0 |
3,808,902 | female | 45 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 06,July,2004 | One good thing about working at the same job for a long time is that vacation time increases. I get a total of 4 weeks a year, and this is one of them! Tommorrow I'm off with my kids to Ocala, Fla- home of my good friend Janine. She's the one who put up living with me ( no easy task, I assure you!) in College. That she still thinks of me as a good friend after some of the lame-ass bull I did in school is truly a testament to what a great person she is! I hope that I have matured enough to make me more bareable now! Maybe I can get her to take a pic or two to put up later. And maybe I'll show her this blog- she'll be the first! And maybe she know's how to get the comment system working on this blasted thing. Michael tried, but the instructions are in tech=speak, and I am clueless as usual! Oh, and one more thing- Congrats to our favorite singer, on his upcomming nuptuals! He's picked a good day ( if the news is true ) I aught to know- It has been my wedding anniversary the last 20 years - Lep love, KC |
3,808,902 | female | 45 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 02,July,2004 | Well, Independance Day is upon us, and I wish everyone a fun, safe holiday. I'll be working, so I will probably not be back here until Tuesday morning. BBQ something up for me, would you? And try to use those firecrackers wisely, not like some roadies we know lol! KC |
3,808,902 | female | 45 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 01,July,2004 | A talking frog goes into a bank and approaches the teller. He sees right away from her window nameplate that her name is Patricia Whack. (He can read, too.) 'Miss Whack, I'd like to get a $30,000 loan to take a holiday.' Patty looks at the frog in disbelief. In staying with the bnk policy pertaining to customer relations, she kindly asks him his name. The frog says his name is Kermit Jagger, adds the fact that his dad is Mick Jagger, and that it's okay to give him a loan because he knows the bank manager personally. Patty explains that he will need to secure the loan with some collateral. The frog says, 'Sure. No problem. I have this,' and produces a tiny porcelain elephant, about half an inch tall, bright pink and perfectly formed. Very confused, Patty explains that she'll have to consult with the bank manager and disappears into a back office. She finds the manager and says, 'There's a frog at my window who says his name is Kermit Jagger, he claims to know you, says his dad is Mick Jagger, and wants to borrow $30,000, AND he wants to use this as collateral.' She holds up the tiny pink elephant. 'I mean, what in the world is this thing?' (You're gonna love this)..................... (It's a real treat)...................... (Masterpiece).............................. (Wait for it)................................. The bank manager looks back at her and says...... 'It's a knickknack, Patty Whack. Give the frog a loan. His old man's a Rolling Stone.' (You're singing it, aren't you?!!! - I knew you would.) Just a funny to end a long day! Thank's to my cousin Patti for this one! Have a good one! KC in Fla |
3,808,902 | female | 45 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 01,August,2004 | urlLink Just popping in to wish my favorite singer a wonderful day!! ROCK ON JOE ELLIOTT!!!!!!!! urlLink |
3,176,655 | male | 24 | Engineering | Libra | 03,July,2004 | If I had a band I'd call it 'Boy Rogers,' in reference to the Bob's Big Boy/Roy Rogers rest stops in Jersey... 'cause they suck... and so would my band. |
3,176,655 | male | 24 | Engineering | Libra | 03,July,2004 | Well... I hate to say it, but life is getting back to normal. This is not to say that I have forgotten, but life must go on. We need to repair. And I am doing this by trying to get some finances in order. We all know, the best way to deal with things you can't controll is deal with those things that you can. And we all know, I suck at finances. But Microsoft Money is my new best friend. I just stare at it. There must be a law agains having hours of fun looking at different pictoral representation of the same information... my debt. but it makes me happy. It's sad... I'm such a loser right now. The highlight of my day is entering my credit card purchases, and itemizing my paycheck. Damn I need a boyfriend. Well, maybe later, now it's money for me. I mean... a boyfriend doesn't graph my expected net worth over the next decade... a boyfriend doesn't figure out how much of my Amex payment goes to principle... a boyfriend doesn't keep you warm at night... wait... nevermind. Maybe I just need to hook up with a cute accountant. So also on this weeks agenda was the acquisition of a certain CD. Ben Folds' new album came out last tuesday and I didn't feel it was responsible of me to go buy it when the country was in turmoil (actually I plum forgot, but now I didn't). It rocks. I love that boy and his wacky narrative lyrics. One of the songs (seen below) makes me so excited for when I'll feel those things he talks about. It kicks my ovaries into overdrive... wait... nevermind. Damn! I need a man! THE LUCKIEST I don't get many things right the first time. In fact I get told that a lot. Now I know all the wrong turns and stumbles and falls brought me here. And where was I before the day I first saw your lovely face? Now I see it every day. And I know that I am... I am... I am... The Luckiest What if I'd been born 50 years before you in a house on a street where you live. Maybe I'd be outside as you passed on your bike; would I know? And in a wide sea of eyes. I see one pair that I recognize. And I know that I am... I am... I am... The Luckiest I love you more than I have ever found a way to say to you. Next door there's an old man who lived to his 90s then one day passed away in his sleep. And his wife, she stayed for a couple of days and passed away. I'm sorry I know that's a strange way of telling you that I know we belong. That I know that I am... I am... I am... The Luckiest |
3,176,655 | male | 24 | Engineering | Libra | 03,July,2004 | How do we move on now? How do we live? We must endure, and we know we will… but how? I believe that the majority of us feel that some sort of war is eminent. Maybe so, but where does that leave us civilians? How do we support our country in our greatest capacity. I work in a part (albeit small, but vital) of defense. But being such a new member to this group, am I better suited for a military position? I spoke with a friend of mine and she shuttered at the idea, although understanding my reasons…. I mean how could you not. Our beautiful country is hurting, and she needs help. I only hope that I will step up and help her in the most productive facility in my power. So I have pondered whether the Army corp. of engineers is the place where I could do the most good in backing our great nation. I am not the most physically adept person, but I consider myself fairly intelligent, and resilient. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not running out tomorrow to enlist, but I am considering it, not as a career, but rather as an aide to America in its time of need. How could I not? When children are afraid of visiting grandparents, and grown men are afraid of what’s around the corner, action needs to be taken, and, as we’ve been told, it will be. I only hope that they’ll take me… I won’t deny my sexuality, but I do wish to help my country. I’m sure many homosexual Americans agree with me in saying that we are hurting just as much as the rest of America (contrary to what Falwell’s recent interview on the 700 club may have referenced). Obviously the future weeks will shed some light on this. I attended a candle lighting vigil tonight at the Lincoln Memorial, and it was breathtaking. To see all those people grieving was incredible. To see thousands with candles is powerful enough, but to see them with our Nation’s capitol and most beloved memorials as their backdrop was immaculate. It was inspiring to say the least, drawing upon those long since dormant feelings of patriotism that we put in drawers for days marked on the calendar marked with stars… Well every day is marked with a star; it just took a little pointing to notice them… Well, the stars are out tonight. |
3,176,655 | male | 24 | Engineering | Libra | 03,July,2004 | Humor is my primary tool for dealing with various circumstances, but it seems that humor fails me in response to today's events. I, as all Americans, feel saddened and enraged, but simultaneously guilty for having these feelings since neither I nor any of my closest friends and family members did not perish in these incidents. I have lived, or in the case of northern Virginia: still live, in all of the areas that were unfortunately ravaged, and continue to have ties with their residents. Thankfully my loved ones are accounted for; I grieve for those who are not. Perhaps the most frightening thing about the occurrence as a whole is the horrific beauty in its execution and efficacy. The poetic nature of the elements of the attacks chills me. Today’s date, 911, already a pop culture siren of fright will ring more poignant in subsequent years. While use of United and American vessels as tools of destruction will forever seem oxymoronic, for to me they will always mean peace and love. Throughout the course of today I choked back tears mulling over how our dearest value, freedom, was literally and metaphorically removed when air travel ceased, and as Americans our wings were clipped. It is times like now, and during tragedies such as this when I deplore my lack of faith… But then I realize that I have faith, not in a higher power, but in my country, and in the nature of its occupants, my fellow Americans. Faith that I AM living free and just, no matter what transpires. Faith that, as an entity, our reaction will be swift: and faith that it will be just. I gain comfort in the fact that we shall endure, and await the time when humor returns as my staple coping mechanism, but until then I just don’t feel like laughing. My love to all of you… If tears could only repair the damage… |
3,176,655 | male | 24 | Engineering | Libra | 03,July,2004 | Warning: If you know me and are friends with Erica, this is nothing new. (This is something I wrote for my friend Erica's site. But that was before I had one of my own... Ehh, shuttup I'm starved for material.) Do you ever come up with something out of the blue... find it funny... and then analyze the crap outta how your brain made that connection? Well, I do... All the time. Okay I'll lay it out for you. I have a problem with money... well, it has a problem with me. I mean it hates me. Soon after I make friends with the dead presidents, they file for divorce and go live with another, semmingly more fiscally responsible chap. And the main source of our irreconcilable differences resides on the street. See, I have this car... a nice bloke (Sargent Hughes is his name)... but he's about 2 or 3 times what I can actually afford. I catch a lot of flak from people about this. Maybe I deserve it, but I just joke it off. So when people ask me if Mommy and Daddy hooked me up with the aforementioned cherry ride, I respond with, 'No, it was an impulse buy... I went in for milk and came out with a TT and a Chunky.' They quickly get a perplexed look in their eyes and laugh nervously. But, the point of all this is the strange neural connection. Impulse buy and Chunky. So I got to thinking. Why don't people ever run to the store to buy a Chunky. Every once in a while you'll get an 'I need a pack of Cinnaburst,' or the occasional, 'Can we stop for Kit-Kats,' even those 1-1/2 calorie Tic-Tacs get representaion. So, why is it that the Chunky falls into the role of the red-headed step-child of the confection world. I mean, if you smell it does it not engulf you in a chocolatey euphoria? What do Milky Way and Snickers have that poor Chunky does not? Perhaps it's the name? Would more people go out of their way for a 'Svelty' or a 'Scrawny' bar? Maybe it's fear of that age old proverb 'you are what you eat.' In this age of perpetual dieting maybe there's no room for such sweet morsals. God Damn you, Dr. Atkins! So next time you're in the express checkout lane behind some jackass who put both shitake and portabello mushrooms in the same produce bag in order to bypass that ever-so-strict '10 items or less' rule, look over at the Chunky but don't buy it. Instead, go home and write it on next week's grocery list in big block letters... I guarantee that you won't be disappointed. That square 2-by-2 package is cooler than the other side of the pillow. Just some food for thought... Or is it a marketing scheme? *cashes check for next car payment* PS... Does anyone even know what Chunky tastes like? I never had one of those MF bars. At least I know what my next pity purchase is. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Put down that Krackle and pick up a Crunch bar you Commie swine! My previous foray into the politics of candy bars has led me to another of the industry's most heated debates. Krackle: Hershey's answer to Nestle's ever-so-successful Crunch bar, or Red propaganda aimed at American youth culture? I heard at a party once that Krackle was the most popular candy bar in the Soviet Union when it made its debut in 1978. (Actually, I think I heard it from me, I was in the Mr. Knowsomestuff stage of intoxication, but since then, too many coincidences have augmented my concern) I don't mean to get all Joe McCarthy on your ass, but all I'm saying is 'if it looks like a duck... and talks like a duck... it must be a commie.' Here's a little history lesson on the subject of the beautiful merger of milk chocolate an puffed rice. Nestle (the premeire confectionist of perhaps the most historically neutral country on the planet, Switzerland) introduced it's Crunch bar in 1938. Since then this texturial fusion of silky brown and bumpy white (sounds like a personal problem to me -e) has taken the bar candy industry by storm. September 14th, 1978... Hershey shocks the nation with their new treat. The timing here is key. The subversive Reds would have observed a new generation. A guardless generation to which the 'Red Scare' of the 50s was nothing but a beddy-time story, and indulgences such as Disco and the Hula-Hoop were waning in popularity, making way for new guilty pleasures. The success of this bar was nothing remarkable to say the least, due to the late entry into the market. Krackle could not overcome the brand loyalty that 'Crunch-ers' (as they prefer to be called) have developed over decades. But did they care? No. Since its inception, Krackle has cornered two niche markets that target American youth. The first of these is Holloween miniatures. What better way to distribute propagnda. The genius of this plan not only is exhibited by its success, but also in the lack of the public's understanding of their role in the spread of communism in North America. It's as if the Archbishop of New York was distributing fliers for 1/2 price beer night at a Chelsea gay bar, while filled with a sense of warmth that he brought happiness to the public. The second market that Krackle leads the way in is the coveted puffed-rice-and-chocolate-grammar-school-sales-contest market. Need I say more? Now, let's talk packaging... Upon first look, the red wrapper with white type may not seem too objectionable, but it provides for the strongest of all arguments on the subject. It's a little known fact that the original design for the wrapper had the word 'Krackle' in yellow, but this was thought to be too obviously likened to the Soviet flag. The broken text of the word is in itself extremely anti-establishment. Coupling this fact with the blatent disregard for the arduous process of teaching youngsters to recognize the hard as well as the soft uses of the letter 'C,' rather acclimating them to the Cyrillic alphabet's lack of the aforementioned consonant's versatility, exhibits the coldness of their plan. Even with all this convincing evidence, Hershey spokespersons continually refute these allegations and deny the existence of the scrapped 'Workers of the world. Eat Krackle' advertising campaign. So, do with this information what you wish, but keep your eyes and ears pealed, for Halloween is just around the corner. |
3,176,655 | male | 24 | Engineering | Libra | 03,July,2004 | ...Our Program already in Progress: Hello friends. I guess this first of all posts should begin with a little about myself. That's easy, the name's Travis. I'm 21, on the brink of 22-dom. I currently reside in the DC area. I've been here for about a month and I think I'll keep it. I'm an engineer and I'm gay. I stand by my opinion that gay engineers make cool engineers, whereas straight engineers make dorks... That's not meant as a dig to any of you. Making fun of others just makes you feel better about yourself. No seriously... There are some kickass not-completely-devoid-of-social-skills engineers out there. Of the 14 on the east coast... I'm friends with 12. A little background, you ask? Okay... Born and bred in suburban Connecticut. Had your normal childhood. Shitty at times, lovely the next day. I just had that one thing that made me a little different than all my friends. That one thing that I couldn't talk about for most of my life. But then don't we all. I don't mean to depict my sexual orientation as a sob story by any means. We all have our trials and tribulations and are stronger/wiser for having experienced them. And don't get me wrong I had a loving supportive family, conservative and religious at the crux, but subsequently (and possibly hypocritically) supportive during my coming out. I had two older siblings, the kind you love to hate, and hate to love, again typical. They are two of the most amazing people I know. I looked up to them so much in my life my neck is still sore. At times I couldn't stand them, at times they'd make me cry, but I wouldn't have it any other way. And now on to my final family member, my secondary caretaker... TV. I have this long standing opinion that nearly everything I know I've learned from TV. If you yield the power of that beautiful glowing box for good, the world is your oyster. Well maybe not that much, but as Martha would say 'It's a good thing.' Early in my childhood I discovered (no not men, that came a little later), movies. Thank god I was born when I was, 'cause the VCR shaped my life. Look upon this as you wish, but I believe it was genuinely good Whenever you talk to a gay person, well at least most of the time. They always say, 'I always new I was different.' Which is our way of saying even before I got erections from MTV's 'The Grind,' (Go Eric) I knew somethin' was up. So in order to escape those alienation feelings I entered what I have since dubbed 'my celluloid closet.' Was it healthy, maybe not, but it got me through a lot of years when I wasn't ready to face myself. People often wonder why they didn't know. To a certain extent so do I, but I sure as hell didn't want them to figure it out. Is this why there are so many homosexuals in Hollywood? Is it because we all grow up as actors? Well I played the part well. I didn't go as far as to submerse myself in athletics, but I have gotten to the point where I can't tell if things I like are mine, or my cover's. I'm like Charlie Baltimore in 'The Long Kiss Goodnight,' or am I Samantha Caine? Take music for one: Do I really like Metallica, or was that just my psyche trying to compensate my seemingly feminine 'condition' with more masculine characteristics? Well I am 1 year+ out of that closet, and this sort of self discovery is going to continue for a little while. Maybe that's why I'm starting this... but I highly doubt it 'cause I predict that the majority of the posts will be of a random nature as an outlet for the funny that courses through my veins. |
3,176,655 | male | 24 | Engineering | Libra | 03,July,2004 | So here's two for ya... and they continue to be bad. Your blessing is no more than being safe and sound for the whole lifetime. You are cautious in showing your true self to others. So not only am I restricted from giving blood, but I am boring and fake as well. What a catch... line up fellas, I start giving numbers at noon. I have to stop eating Chinese food. |
3,176,655 | male | 24 | Engineering | Libra | 03,July,2004 | If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be? Me, I'd live in Mike Greybeal's pants... oh no, bad thoughts at work... BAD THOUGHTS AT WORK! |
3,176,655 | male | 24 | Engineering | Libra | 03,July,2004 | I had a lot of fun this weekend. On saturday a coupla friends and I went to a DC101 (radio station in our nation's capitol) holloween party. It was pretty cool, we didn't dress up or anything, but we all wore leather pants... I mean there's really no occasion otherwhen in the year to encase yourself in treated and dyed animal flesh, so you gotta take the opportunity when it arises. Anywho, It was fun and I got trashed... naturally. But I was Ferris Beulering everything. I few hours into the party we were on the dance floor and some guy was carrying chicken to the VIP room. I made and 'ooh, ooh' noise and pointed... so he stopped came back and let me swipe a piece. I don't know who that kind soul was, but I was never the same after that moment... ...And then I thought things couldn't get better, I had just scored some comp-fowl and there was a disco band that was really kickin'. I was wrong. I go up to the band to try to request some Jackson five (a Jender and T-$$ staple when dancing), but struck out 'No Motown he says... Try the DJ he says.' Well it was a big neg from the DJ too (actually I think he said yes, but I didn't hear it, 'cause... well you'll see why). So I'm on my way back to my friends when I see Giligan trying to get into the VIP room, and the bouncer stopped him. Meanwhile I look all official coming from the DJ booth and everything, so I call out 'No, that's Giligan let him in.' In the wake of my thrall the bouncer bends to my desire... then I just walk in. Now I've already had 5 beers at this point and there was free shit in VIP, bad combo for the T-ster. So I try to contact Jender via cellular technology, but nothin', thankfully they came in a little later when the bouncer stepped away for a pee break. Meanwhile I'm sitting around with all these radio people, and I see Giligan and he's like 'Dude, you got me in.' and I'm like 'Go me!' So I end up talking to Diane from the Elliot in the Morning Show for like and hour. It must really suck to be them, 'cause they live hours of their lives in the public eye, and it must be taxing how everyone they talk to thinks they're like bestest frinds 'cause they ease the morning commute. But back to me I down like 5 more beers, and Travis is kicked. So I pile up a plate of wings and we head for the Metro. Now this is where I forget everything. I remember vaguely getting on the metro and making a fool of myself while I was on it. I was told that I was telling everyone to get off ''cause Swank was too sexy.' Thank god for Nordstroms 'cause I strapped the handles of a shopping bag on my ears like a feed bag and yakked all the way from Vienna back to Jender's. All in all I had a blast, until sunday morning. but all y'all know what that's like. Late... |
3,176,655 | male | 24 | Engineering | Libra | 03,July,2004 | Well I eat too much Chinese food: You make people realize that there exists other beautise in the world. Which to me means 'You're gonna die alone you ugly bitch, and drive all hot men into the arms of other hot men.' I think I should stop reading these things, 'cause Autumn pessimism is setting in. 'Cause I can make anything sound bad like if I get - 'You're going to come into a large sum of money,' I'll translate it to 'You're gonna die alone you ugly bitch, and the only thing that will have sex with you will be cold hard cash.' Just kidding, I'm not really this bad... usually |
3,176,655 | male | 24 | Engineering | Libra | 03,July,2004 | Fortune Cookie: Our first love and last love is... Self-love. My sister tried to convince me that it meant; 'You love yourself, and in doing so better yourself in order to love others,' but I believe it meant 'Your gonna die alone you ugly bitch.' You be the judge. |
3,176,655 | male | 24 | Engineering | Libra | 03,July,2004 | Hungover at coaster kingdom. So I got trashed this past friday at my friend's. It was monster night. We watched old monster movies and carved pumpkins. I forgot my pumpkin, but I'll get it tomorrow. Anyway it doesn't matter it looked like Marv Albert. Jender's was kick-ass though. Solely because of the mouth. which was my Idea. (just saving face 'cause even the cute dimple on mine couldn't salvage the gourd as a whole) Anyway the next day She and I, and a new friend Swank went to Six Flags in MD. It was a lot of fun, and a beautiful day. But I wanted to hurl the whole time. We were in line for the Batwing, right, and Swank was all 'I don't wanna go on.. hear the people screaming?' So Jender was like 'They're just happy,' and I was all 'They're screaming for Charo.' It was really funny, at least to me in my diminshed brain cells state. So after dropping a Jackson at random games around the park I won back to back roll-a-balls and acquired a stuffed Aligator named Charo (coincidence... there are two things I don't believe in... Coincidence and Gay Republicans). Come to find out Charo is actually a transvestite and his real name is Ken Adams, how's that for twilight zoniness? Well Incubus' new cd comes out tomorrow, so pick it up. have a TT-rific day... |
3,176,655 | male | 24 | Engineering | Libra | 03,July,2004 | I tend to order a lot of Chinese food, so I've decided to put up my favorite Fortune Cookie wisdoms whenever I encounter them. My sister got this one last week, and I assure you this is verbatim, complete with exclaimation point: Alas! The onion you are eating is somebody else's water lilly. |
3,176,655 | male | 24 | Engineering | Libra | 03,July,2004 | So birthday wishes to me. It's 10 o'clock and I've already received calls. I'm just hoping that nobody calls tonight during Buffy. So I'm doing nothing today. Just a quiet night. Damn I really have to get on the ball with this apartment thing, but I just like having a little cash on hand ya know. But then I need to make friends. Damn I'm flippant today. So I tend to start every paragraph with 'So.' That's what I do when I have nothing of import to say. You'll be happy to know that my gum wrapper chain has gotten longer, and I fortified every link with a little piece of gum so that it is stronger. These are the things I tend to do when bored at work. I hope that I can edit this later 'cause it's sooo dull. |
3,176,655 | male | 24 | Engineering | Libra | 03,July,2004 | Forgive me friends for I have sinned... It's been so freaking long since my last confessional. Just a little bit of my Catholic upringing reering it's ugly face. It so weird how infused it is into my life, being that I'm like Mr. Religion-can-bite-me guy. Anyway... I was having a personal problem last week... I couldn't find my deoderant. I knew it was around somewhere 'cause it's not like you pick it up and walk around the house with it. Ya know you use it and put it right back. It's like misplacing milk... It just doesn't happen. Well I was in my room yesterday and I saw my Life insurance policy on my table, and it hit me... Maybe it's under there. Sure enough... Boy did I feel dumb... I was like 'Salt and Pepper my face 'cause it makes the egg taste better.' But the funny thing is since I've received my Policy I've been more at ease that my loved ones will be taken care of if I... ya know... kick it. (and by loved ones I mean my car) So deoderant was not as necessary. I just marvel at the poetic nature of the snafu. But now I'm fresh and smelling nicely... So take comfort in that. Later pease-blossoms |
3,176,655 | male | 24 | Engineering | Libra | 03,July,2004 | Why can't the desire to fuck be transitive? I was pondering this on the shitter... oops crapper... today. Since there is a mirror right there. I was looking at my new highlights... and I quite like them now that I've showered. I'm mean one of the benefits of being gay is that I'm my own demographic. I was like: If I came up to me and hit on me I would be receptive. Therefore it goes to reason that I would hit on me. (I think I achieved fourth person there) So lets take a for instance... Mike Greybeal (grrrr... he's this dude that was on undressed for a few episodes, a major beauty on the hot scale)... So on a given day, lets say Tuesday, I'd have sex with him. Now if we couple this with the above, 'I'd have sex with me,' then geometry would dictate that he would have sex with me. But then I got to thinking; you throw in a girl who has bisexual tendencies who is attracted to me, then I'd have to want to have sex with her... and this just throws a wrench in the whole rigmoroll. So I have tucked the 'Transitive-Fuck' theory in a drawer with my other thwarted thoughts like: 'I deserve to be wealthier than the crocodile hunter,' and 'with all the Grape-Nuts in the world why is there still hunger?' Well bye now. PS. I had this weird dream last night, and I'm pissed that I can't remember the Haiku that was in it... 'cause it made me laugh... well as much as a sleeping person can laugh. |
3,176,655 | male | 24 | Engineering | Libra | 03,July,2004 | I haven't put anything new up here in a while. Soory. I was watching TV last week, and I hit rock bottom. FOX showed the ever-so-enthralling 'Who Wants to be a Princess?' It sucked... and I was stupider for having watched it. Well, there was one good part. When they were modeling and it showed their likes and dislikes... Everyone's dislikes were like: 'Mean People,' 'Ignorant People,' 'Dishonesty,' but this one girl's was 'Moth Ball's and Hyper Dogs.' I wanted to jump in the screen give her a big smooch and hand her the crown. I mean how real... I laughed for like 10 minutes solid. But then I saw the prince, and I was like 'I'm glad she didn't win... what a troll. I'd rather hop on Benjamin the results giver,' or as his resume would say 'Special Liaison to the Judges.' So that's it... I think my funny went on vacay... Maybe it's the highlights. DAMN YOU SALAZAR!!! |
3,176,655 | male | 24 | Engineering | Libra | 03,July,2004 | I am sooooo tired today. I mean add to the fact that I'm sick, I got like 5 hours of sleep. Which for me is like none. I'm a sleep lover. If sleep had the right equipment I'd sleep with it daily. Well I guess bed thoughts kinda supplanted sex thoughts today though, maybe I am getting better. eeeehhh... no... bad thoughts continue, but now they're all taking place in bed, whereas before they were everywhere... ya know locker rooms, prisons, atop the Seattle space needle, the usual. The embassy was fun. Jender and I just basically shot the shit all night, and made fun of (or more rarely complimented) all the attendees. One woman was the undeniable reason that agoraphobia was created. The beer lady was a trip though... she was funnnny with a capitol fun. I liked her glasses. Oh yeah and I got the play the didjeridu, which was an experience. well I'm off to feign interest in my work as I contemplate my hopeful christmas gift of 600 thread count egyptian cotton sheets. Betty so better be on the ball with that. I mean have you ever heard of such a thing. they are the bomb, and not just like the cherry bomb or the smart bomb, they are the H-bomb. My sister already got hers, and I'm green with envy... or maybe that's nausea. late...(can my goddamn nose just stop running!!!) |
3,176,655 | male | 24 | Engineering | Libra | 03,July,2004 | E-gad!!! It's been forever since I updated this chippy. I'm sorry I'm quite delusional right now. I'm sick, and kinda run down. I'm just sitting here at work waiting for my tea to steep so I can down a coupla dayquil. But the thing that sucks (for me... well if I don't stay home) is when I'm sick all I can think about is sex. I'm not sure if any of you suffer the same byproduct of sickness, if you do, let me know so I don't feel like such a perv. So it makes work that much harder, so to speak. I sign out of yahoo mail and I see that eDiets guy and I'm gone... an hour later we're living in a townhouse with two puppies and a cockatoo (his, not mine, I tried to convince him that damn bird wasn't worth it, but he's one stubborn fag). And so it goes... all day. It's not so much of a one track mind, but more of a one station mind where all tracks meet. AND to top it all off I didn't win Powerball last night... These are the things I have to deal with, I mean how much can one person take? I'm like two seconds from writing the Lottery commission and saying 'hey... If I don't start winning I'm gonna stop playing. How do you like them apples?' Look at me the little sicky weilding the iron fist. I mean how else are you gonna get results? A vague disclaimer is nobody's friend. well off to whatever... Austrailian Embassy tonight... I hope I fell better and don't puke on any diplomats. |
3,176,655 | male | 24 | Engineering | Libra | 03,July,2004 | Who am I???? I hooked up with some kid last night. I think it was all about making myself feel better. I just returned to my alma mader and I'm all feeling old and shit. But I hope to have a fun fun weekend, I just hope butter buns doesn't give me too much flak. God I've never done that sorta thing while other people were in the room, visiting from outta town. that's so skanky. That's it I'm officially a skank. I'm off to eat some really good chinese. |
3,176,655 | male | 24 | Engineering | Libra | 03,July,2004 | I think I angered my Brother-in-law yesterday... Ok, my bad totally, my room is getting a bit messy. Well, up until last night, when I cleaned... majorly. So my sister called this morning and was like 'Thanks, it looks great.' and I'm like 'huh?' great, I just cleaned my room. It's not like I made a chess set carved out of white potatos and sweet potatos that have been fried, so that as you win you can eat french-fried bishops and rooks and pawns. It's not like I did that... I just cleaned my room. |
3,176,655 | male | 24 | Engineering | Libra | 03,July,2004 | I drank like two pots of coffee this morning. Consequently I thought I was going to puke so I went home after lunch. Ironically I felt better once I got home, what a kick. So I popped over to Pier 1 'cause there was this blanket I wanted to get, and over to Suncoast to get a cheesy homo pic. I never thought a movie could be this bad, but enjoyable. I mean once you get throught the horrible story, vomit inducing acting, choppy editing, and sickening soundtrack... it bit, but the lead was HOT, so all is forgiven. I'm such a sucker for a pretty boy. Well off to nap my half day away. |
3,176,655 | male | 24 | Engineering | Libra | 03,July,2004 | So here's the latest cookie talk... it's like you need a decoder ring to understand it... or you can be like me and excel at piss-poor english. Wish you a good health! I don't even know where to begin... at least it's not bad. Of all the fortune cookies I've ever read this is by far the most recent. |
3,176,655 | male | 24 | Engineering | Libra | 03,July,2004 | I'm bored at work. I don't know why offices that don't have constant turnover (like stores, or factories) have to be open. I think I'm totally not comming in tomorrow. There's like nobody here. So I made some changes to my template. I like it better, I robbed some code from e, 'cause I've become HTML ignant. But I can't find this freaking roll of film that I want to use as pictures. I'm pissed. But whatev. I guess I'll just have to take some more. God I have no funny stories. I'm dull today. My sister was telling me that yesterday she was riding the elevator with one of the partners of her firm. This guy's like 50 and a partner in one of DC's largest law firms. He was talking to her about the weather, and she was saying how it would probably not snow. So he was like: Partner: 'Do you ski?' Sister: 'I used to, but now I just really like sledding.' As if it wasn't enough that my sister's barely knee high to a puppy and looks about 12, now her favorite pastimes include sledding. Last night she was kicking herself. Fel-lator |
3,176,655 | male | 24 | Engineering | Libra | 03,July,2004 | This is a dream I had last week: It was a nice day at the races. Dog? no, Horse? no, groundhog? yes. So it was the finals of the national groundhog races and the favorite, ButterBuns, was up against the underdog, Nicky. I wanted Nicky to win 'cause I had a nickel on him. There was a little confusion 'cause Nicky wasn't high in the polling system, but he had won all his matches, so a challenge was extended on ButterBuns' behalf, but the Judges ruled in favor of Nicky. BB was dressed in a Bumble bee outfit complete with fuzzy antenae. An obvious crowd favorite to Nicky's black jersey. And they're off!!! ButterBuns took an early lead at 50m, but Nickey pulled it out in the last leg. So I took my 5 g's to the victory party and got completely smashed. It was a good day. Even Punxatawney Phil came out, but stardom has really gotten to him, and he's been hitting the H a little too hard. So he just sits around and waits for February when the spotlight is on him. That prognasticating fuck, he's nothing more than a glorified coin toss. Calc-u-lator |
3,176,655 | male | 24 | Engineering | Libra | 03,July,2004 | Well I'm back at work. Fuck all you who aren't. I hope everyone had a nice holiday weekend. I did. Holiday traditions are weird. I don't know why. Okay I come from a Catholic family, but I'm an Atheist, so I constantly have a battle of what i should do. What is the least disrepectful to my family, and what is the least disrespectful to their religion. I simply choose to abstain from most of it. I go to Christmas eve mass, but I don't participate. I basically just sit there and look around, usually checking out boys, but then I check myself 'cause that's not the place. But then there's grace, and all the family talking about how nice the service was. And I'm like 'ehh.' It's painful. But then we go to my cousins to eat. This is my dad's side of the family, very Slovak. It's fun, but 'Holy Supper' as it is called, is very shiny. I don't know if you know about Slovakian food, but it's all cabbage, potato, and lots and lots of butter. Every year we sit down to a meal of saurkraut soup, boiled potatos, perogies, cabbage and noodles, kielbasa and kraut, etc. Lard basically. But I love it. Then Christmas day is when we get turkey and other American things. I scored some pretty good gifts this year. Got the Sapranos 1 & 2, sheets (only 440, but ehh, I can't stay mad at my mom), Dr. Zhivago, Rogue Leader, two pairs of shoes, a Gamecube case, and some other stuff. Damn I'm spoiled. I'm like 22 and I still get lots of gifts. I talked to my Grandfather this weekend on the phone for like 20 minutes. It was strange, I've never talked to him for more than 5 minutes, and even then it would be about computers. But this time it was about everything. Apparently he has a girlfriend. Well that just pulls my cork (I don't know what it means, but my Nanny said it this weekend, she so funny, she's 85 and quite a firecracker), I can't believe my 78 year old grandfather can get a girlfriend, and I am boyless. But anyway, he asked me if I had a girlfriend, and I'm like 'ehhh, no.' It's not like I think that he wouldn't approve or anything, I just don't feel it's necessary to tell all the old people until ya know I'm in a relationship that last longer than a week... erm... end. I was psyched though, I got off the phone with him and I turn to my brother and I'm like 'I'm his favorite.' My brother was really funny this weekend though, we got drunk yesterday and apparently he wants to be on Saturday Night Live. I'm not sure if he's up for it, but I think we come from some pretty funny stock. We talked until like 3 in the morning. It was fun. I get to meet his girlfriend when I'm in NYC for New Years. I'm psyched. Then before I hopped in my car to return to the Nation's Cap we went over to my mom's side, very Italian. But the ass grabbin' didn't last that long I had to get on the road. God I'm boring today. Recounting my holiday isn't much fun for y'ins. In the words of my baby cousin: 'I don't wike tickows' |
3,176,655 | male | 24 | Engineering | Libra | 03,July,2004 | This is not so much of a now epiphany, but a remmberance of epiphanies past: When I was like 4 or something my parents, like many warm, giving Americans got sucked in my Sally Struthers and Save the Children. So we sponsored this little girl, her name was Pinky. (Which coincidentally became the name of my first goldfish, making my porn name Pinky Washington. With a name like that I'd have to do porn as a tranni) So for the longest time, which was probably like a few months I thought that Pinky was actually my sister, and I couldn't figure out why she didn't live with us. I was such a 'ron of a tyke. Also for a while I thought that the term 'rents' (as in 'I'm living with the rents') was in reference to the fact that you should be paying rent, not a shortened version of parents. For a smart guy I'm so dumb. Fish and Chips and Chips and Fish Fish and Chips and Chips and Fish Fish and Chips and Chips and Fish Oh what a delicious dish! (I hate fish and chips, but that just poped into my head, for no reason. I'm drinking coffee for peeper's sake) |
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