Tuesday, August 31, 2004
That damned Lee Greenwood song is burrowing through my brain, oddly entwined with Jenny from the Block (don't ask - I don't know, either). I need something else to supplant them before I'm driven to pierce my eardrums with this handy letter opener. Anything at all will do.
Unless it's from either of the Simpson siblings. Or former boy band members. Or self-important Christian rock bands. Then I'll pierce your eardrums with this handy letter opener. Or their eardrums. All I know is that eardrums will be pierced by a sharp metallic object unless I get some relief.
How on earth did I manage to work sex into even the type of Edward Gorey book that I am?
The Curious Sofa - You are quite sensual and love a good romp in every sense of the word! People are drawn to you and always want you to sit in their laps!
Which Edward Gorey Book Are You?
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Frankly I think my blue and black living room rug has been eyeing me kinda funny. It's waiting for its chance, I just know it.
You will be smothered under a rug. You're a little anti-social, and may want to start gaining new social skills by making prank phone calls.
What horrible Edward Gorey Death will you die?
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Sunday, August 29, 2004
I'm not lacking for writing ideas. They still bounce around a million miles an hour in my noggin. But when faced with the blank screen and my keyboard, the ideas freeze in place, their countanences resembling startled deer, praying I won't notice them if they stand stock-still. It seems to be an effective tactic.
I'm also kinda bored with my thoughts these days. Not a heck of a lot is happening right now. My game night was bust. Only four people showed up to play, and their contributions, combined with that of Sarriah and MidWestRoomate - neither of whom could show up for the games portion of the evening - gave me a whopping $50. Which brings my grand total up to $225. Not near enough for what I need. Several people have promised that they're going donate, but I haven't seen most of it. I'm very behind in my fundraising right now and it's got me a little stressed. Make that very stressed.
The ten mile jog/walk yesterday actually went pretty well. I felt very good for the first five miles, okay for the sixth mile, but started struggling around Mile 7. I started singing happy songs to myself for distraction, even creating an elaborate, unlikey-as-things-currently-stand fantasy in my head involving the song Open Window (a song I adore - I've had vision-strong images connected to it). It helped quite a bit, and I managed to make it through the next three miles, though I pretty much walked Miles 7-10. Despite this malaise that's settled over me, the physical exertion and the bright sunshine felt very good, lifting me up a little, as did the occasional scent of eucalyptus (I'm going to start wearing eucalyptus oil when exercising - it's incredible the type of lift it provides). Not to mention the many times I made the other members of my pace group laugh with my little bon mots of inanity.
Then, after I got home and napped a little, Sarriah came over and we proceeded to drive around aimlessly, stopping to eat at a Silverlake restaurant that had yummy food, then more aimless driving. Just a lot of talk and laughter, dissecting and trying to make sense of our personal lives, as women are wont to do. I finally went to bed at about 3am while she rested on my sofa/loveseat/whatever. She was gone when I dragged myself out of bed at 10am, which I pretty much expected.
Since then I've been puttering, finishing a video that I've been trying to watch for days (book is better - but there are good points to the movie, even if it does suffer from a disjointed personality - I still adore Gabriel Byrne - so many levels of yummy). I'm thinking it's time to get out, if only for a little while. The sun is sure to do me a world of good.
It's been almost three weeks since CuteNerdBoy and I last exchanged e-mails and over a month since we've seen each other - a record thus far (not including, of course, the thirteen years between high school and our previous reconnection or the five years between our previous reconnection and last year's reconnection). I'm still thinking about him, still missing him, but working on getting my feelings sorted out. Most of the time, at any rate. So I'm not writing about that because, well, been there, done that, shrunk the t-shirt and watching my cats take turns wearing it.
So I may be suffering from ennui, and my writing may have slowed down a little, but there's still a bit of creativity stirring around in my cauldron. I've finished compiling Mix CD #8 (not sure about the title yet) and will be burning it soon, with songs for #9 quickly piling up.
After laying low with the keyboard for a while, a recent (temporary) aquisition has got me playing both the keyboard and the acquisition, which is actually very satisfying. I'm not very good, and I have a devil of a time getting the left hand to play anything remotely musical, but I'm having fun with it. And I'm glad my living room and kitchen are so removed from the rest of the triplex, because I can both both instruments late at night without disturbing my neighbor. So very cool.
And yesterday, while walking Mile 8, a line came to me which is turning into a song. And not a bad one, if I say so myself. I have to work on the lyrics a bit more, but it's actually flowing fairly smoothly, especially for a non-musician like myself. I actually find that pretty exciting.
So that's what's been going on in the World of Carol. Not a lot, filled with far too many down moments, but certainly not horrible. And sure to get better.
I'll write here when I'm moved to do so, but I think that you can pretty much expect the entries to be far more sporadic than a few weeks ago, when I was posting several times a day. For a little while, anyway.
Though now that I've written that, I may start posting six times a day, every day. Certainly wouldn't be the first time!
Friday, August 27, 2004
Wish me luck with my *deep breath* 10-mile run tomorrow. I hope I make it through alive. And a happy weekend to everyone!
Thursday, August 26, 2004
Big news in the world of astronomy. It's always exciting when such discoveries are made. My inner geek is dancing as we speak.
Today marks the 84th anniversary of the ratification of the 19th Amendment, allowing women the right to vote after a 72 year struggle. Honor that struggle, that achievement, by voting in this year's presidential election. If you're eligible to vote and you haven't registered yet, please do so. This may well be the most important presidential election of our lifetime.
In relation to the above, Bush's Father Foresaw Costs of Iraq War. Do we really want to keep a man in office who doesn't even listen to someone he supposedly respects - his own father? And how many people are even surprised? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? (Story found at Magnum P.I.'s Journal.)
Tuesday, August 24, 2004
Info:Feel free to e-mail me if you have questions. (Remember to remove SPAMBAD from the address.)
Game Night in Culver City - APLA Fundraiser Edition
Grand Casino French Bakery
3826 Main Street
Culver City, CA 90232
Friday, August 27, 2004
7-9:30pm (ending time approximate)
Cost: $10 entrance fee, additional money for food, possible silent auctions
Hope to see you there!
Thursday, August 19, 2004
Not that I ever seriously wondered, because I think it's pretty self evident. Still, when it's to the point I'm surprised my nipples haven't sliced through my clothing and exposed themselves to the world, looking for some glass to cut, I think it's safe to assume that the temperature of the showroom? Is damn near close to freezing.
Especially when - if I want to have any kind of support for the girls - the type of bra I have to wear is made of fairly thick (though still sexy) material and yet I still have high-beams.
That, my friends, is cold.
Sunday, August 15, 2004
I just got back from a full weekend helping BabySis, BSHubby and BSSon move into their new apartment. Basically I trained yesterday morning, had a quick lunch, bussed two hours out to their place and helped with the loading and unloading and uppacking and putting away while Mom kept an eye (and tried to entertain) BSSon.
We got back to Mom's place at about 4am, I crashed on her couch, woke up at 9:30am, washed the clothes I wore yesterday because I didn't feel like lugging a change of clothes on the bus, was proselytized by her neighbor to accept Jesus Christ into my life (a nice enough woman, but oh, is she lucky that A] she's my mom's neighbor and B] she's in her eighties - I bit back a response that would have been sure to offend her sensibilities - I absolutely despise, with every fiber of my body, being proselytized), had breakfast with BabySis and family and Mom, helped with shopping, helped with more unpacking, then was driven home.
It was great to see BabySis so excited about their new apartment. The first time she and BSSon have ever lived without grandparents and aunts and uncles about. And their first home as a brand new married family.
There have been a lot of changes for them in the last month or so, with the wedding and friends visiting from the East Coast, then going back home and BabySis' in-laws (with whom she and BSSon were living since the whole thing with my dad went down nearly two years ago) moving to Florida and now their new apartment. I hope they get a chance to relax for a little while and enjoy time as a family. They more than deserve it.
And it was good to hang out with my mom. I don't do so often enough and it's nearly always good when I do. It helps to get me out of my head for a little while, something I don't feel I do often enough.
But now? Now it is time for some quality sleeping.
Friday, August 13, 2004
Okely dokely, lefties! (links and image found at Christopher's blog)
Who's Your Inner Music Industry Diva? Find out @ She's Crafty
Who's Your 80s Movie Icon Alter-Ego? Find out @ She's Crafty
Who's Your Inner Buffy Bad-Girl? Find out @ She's Crafty
Thursday, August 12, 2004
I'm staying at work late. And I'm not even working.
I don't know why I do this, but for some reason I'm sitting at work, futzing around on the computer, which I can certainly do in the comfort of my own home. But I'm not. I've done this before, back when I worked at Lions Gate. And even when I worked at Disney, though never as late as this.
Why? Well, partially because I start reading a website, or playing an online game, thinking, "Oh, I'll leave in half an hour," and I totally lose track of the time.
But also, I think, because I'm just not all that eager to go home to an empty apartment. I do like to spend time with my cats, and I do that most of the time these days. But sometimes I really just don't want to be home alone. With my money situation tight (for only a little while longer), my social calendar is rather empty these days - hard to believe, after the busy January through April I had this year - and, well, home isn't where I feel like being right now. So instead I sit alone in a locked showroom.
Hey, I never said I was logical.
I think I'm just going through a wee bit of a depression right now, fueled by hormones and mixed emotions. I'll be okay, but it ain't easy. On top of that, I'm rethinking the new furniture in my apartment. Though all three pieces were comfortable enough for the few minutes I tested them while in the showroom, they are too firm to truly relax upon (I still have to give the sofa/loveseat/whatever the sleep test). Who wants to lie down on cushions that don't really give? Not me.
Anyway, it's getting late and I still have to bus on home, so I think I'll wrap it up here. And go to sleep as soon as I get home, because I'm exhausted - waking up at 4am due to feminine cramping really is no fun at all.
Oh yeah. Girly TMI. Sorry!
I can't say that I'm surprised by this development, but I am very much disappointed. I mean, a California law does define marriage as a union between a man and a woman and the California Supreme Court, in not wanting rock the boat, is merely upholding that law. The fact that the law is a steaming pile of shit appears to not figure into the decision at all.
I hope that San Francisco city attorney Dennis Herrera's optimism is borne up when he says, "We still remain extremely confident with respect to our arguments and their potential for success on our equal protection claim under the state constitution."
I mean, if the citizens of Massachusetts can do it, Californians sure as hell better be able to as well. Better yet, how about all American citizens? You know, freedom and all that crap. Hey, there's an odd concept...
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
*blushes furiously, hangs head* Oh dear.
** Another big round of "What he said," for John Scalzi and his take on the presidential candidates' military records. I think I care a little more than John, but not a heck of a lot.
** Whee! It's Perseid Time again! Tonight is the type of night I wish I had a car, so that I could drive up to Griffith Park (which is incredibly close to me) and watch them at 2am without the interference of the city lights. I've done that before, lying on my car hood in total dark and watching the meteors. So very cool.
** If you have not yet done so, run over to Space Monkeys and read the strips. All of the strips. If you do not, the Action Gravy may come after you. Trust me, that is not something to be desired. *rubs still-tender buttocks*
** Pamie discovers that sometimes you can go home again, even if home is in a new state.
** Cate makes a confession. I'm so proud of her bravery.
** Terrific article on Chicklit, with suggestions about how to be well read. Though I've loved books all my life, I've never considered myself all that well-read. At least not until The Book Explosion That Started Summer of Aught-5 (or TBETSSoA5 for short - it was a messy explosion, but a necessary one). It's nice to know I'm already well on my way!
** This is the most I've ever seen of Battlefield Earth. Trust me, it's too much. *scrubs eyes with bleach and lye and a steel bristled brush*
More links may or may not follow...
So full of myself.
All those mental and emotional gyrations, because I find it difficult to slam down the lid on anything resembling turbulence, and guess what?
CuteNerdBoy didn't go to the BookCrossing meeting either.
He was planning to go, I knew that from last month. But last night he sent an e-mail that I received this morning, letting me know he had been trying to call me (both my home and cell phones were down - or as he put it, "Man when you go on a break, you don't kid around!") to let me know he wouldn't be making the meeting after all because he wasn't feeling well. And he apologized for missing it.
With all the gymastics I put my brain and heart through, those organs are probably in excellent physical condition. Tired. In need of orange juice, perhaps. But in excellent physical condition.
He did send me a most fabulous link: Inside the Monkeysphere. Funny, yet a brain scratcher. Most of the points I had considered in one form or another previously, but still an excellent piece of writing.
I'm thinking that boy might have gleaned one or two things about my tastes over the last year...
Tuesday, August 10, 2004
This month - tonight - is different. Instead I rode home with a guy from my work building (whom I know from when he worked at the loading dock there - when you have furniture moving in and out of the showroom, you get to know the loading dock fellas pretty quickly), moved furniture from my living room to my garage and from his truck to my living room (while wearing a white/blue patterned skirt, white top and heels - that's me, living on the edge, baby!), rested for about twenty minutes, then I took the bus to pay my phone bill a few miles down the road and waited forever (or forty minutes) for the return bus home. As I walked back in the door at nearly 9:30pm I thought, "The meeting must be over by now."
I've gotten so used to being at that meeting every second Tuesday that it seemed utterly bizarre to not attend. And the knowledge that I probably won't be at next month's meeting feels equally strange.
Okay, so I had a legitimate reason to not go tonight that had nothing to do with CuteNerdBoy. The furniture needed to be moved and tonight was the night that FormerDockGuy could do it. And as for next month, well, the writing group is undergoing changes right now and I do need to focus on it a bit more. As it is, I miss one meeting a month due to BC. If Tragicomedy (from BC) and CuteNerdBoy - and, truth be told, myself, to some extent - had their way, I'd miss another Tuesday each month because of a sci-fi meet-up that's held the third (I think) Tuesday of each month. But being gone two Tuesdays a month from the group doesn't sit well with me. And I do love the interaction with my fellow writers.
But let's be honest. The main reason I'm not going to the BC meetings right now is because of the break from CuteNerdBoy. I originally thought, "Hey, maybe I'll just go, but not have dinner afterwards or ask him to take me home. Surely I can handle that, right?"
No. I can't. I know me too well. The occasional joke e-mail is okay, but if I were to see him right now it would hurt too much. It hurts just thinking about it. Not seeing him or talking to him hurts even more, but it's a neccessary pain at this point. I know this and am trying to embrace it in all its thorny glory, even though my brain is running in overdrive about things which I have no, nor should I seek, control over, because it never knows when to shut the hell up. "How many people are there? What books did they bring? What books are they talking about? Are the regulars wondering where I am? Are they quizzing CuteNerdBoy? And is the one regular that I just can't stand all smug because I'm not around?"
(Newsflash, Carol: The world does not revolve around you. Deal.)
It was over a month ago that we talked and exchanged those wordy, emotional e-mails. Nearly a month since I last saw him. It doesn't even seem that long ago.
And tonight's BookCrossing meeting would have marked a year since my first BC meeting, and a year since CuteNerdBoy first called me a writer, which was the one of the first things that really made me think, "Hey, this guy is different. I like it. And him."
G-d, I certainly hope one more month is enough to sort out my head. Because I don't want to put aside the BC meetings indefinitely. I enjoy them. Because October - and the marathon - is right around the corner and I'd like CuteNerdBoy to be there, cheering me on, as he said he would.
But right now? I'm not entirely sure if a month (closer to six weeks, I think) will be sufficient...
Monday, August 09, 2004
No doubt that good ol' Sherlock would agree that The Case of the Holmesian Chairman's Death would fall neatly into that adage (free registration required)**. Note the Rathbone connection, if you will.
Strange - though purely coincidental, of course - that the story was filed the day before my birthday...
Bloody well weird is right.
**CuteNerdBoy e-mailed me the story of Green's bequeathal, knowing I would be keenly interested, what with my 25+ year Sherlock Holmes obsession and all. A smart fella, he is.
Not only did I not, towards the end of the garage organizing, just shove stuff to the side, my garage is very nearly totally organized. There are only about four boxes I didn't go through, but they are smallish boxes and I had put them to the side very early in my day o' cleaning, thinking I would sort them later. This was before I landed upon the very bright idea of sorting as I went along. And because they were to the side, I kinda forgot about them until the end. But they are close to the front and I know exactly which boxes they are.
Then again, a person probably wouldn't know that the garage is organized to look at it. It just looks like I stacked boxes along the side and back. But the truth is I need to get new, less beat-up boxes to move my stuff into so that it looks neater. But each thrashed box holds only one type of thing (old '80s clothes, souvenirs, car stuff, things to be eBay'd [is that now a legitimate verb?]) and that is a huge step forward for me. And there is actually room to walk in and out of the garage without stepping over mounds of stuff where I'd just tossed things before.
It may not seem like much, but as far as I'm concerned, I rock the organizational house.
Or I will when I get around to organizing my actual apartment.
And I didn't even get too bogged down in stopping to read every single piece of paper as sentimentality washed over me. Most of it was a quick glance and a toss into the "Keep" or "Toss" boxes (more of the former than the latter). Though one of the boxes - a cardboard letter drawer from the '80s - did tip over and I came across pictures from my days at the bank that I didn't remember taking. And a letter from a guy, CL, I had a crush on in high school with whom I made out a couple of years after we graduated. While I remember the make-out session (I introduced him to the joys of French-kissing, if you can believe that - apparently none of his former lady friends had liked it or were good at it), I didn't remember receiving the letter. The gist of the it? Don't hate him for not contacting me for several weeks afterwards, he's messed up, his last relationship was horrible and he's skittish.
Funny thing is, that pretty much sums up almost every guy I've ever dated. How I've always seemed to attract the "damaged yet sweet" boys, even back in high school and my early adult years, I'll never know. (CL wasn't even the first "messed-up" guy. That privilege belongs to a boy in high school who was a year or so ahead of me and who dropped out of school two weeks before graduation. And CL certainly wasn't the last.)
Still, it was neat to find a few other letters I'd forgotten about, from friends who had gone off to college or were out of town for extended periods. I'll keep those forever and a day, because I'm just a sentimental old fool.
Tonight's agenda? A straightening of the apartment and a cursory cleaning/organizing. I'd like to keep on this roll for a little while longer.
Sunday, August 08, 2004
Not that that comes as a surprise to anyone who has ever been in my apartment, or been unfortunate enough to brave my garage, but there's just so much stuff in my garage, and most of it is boxes overflowing with papers. And not even papers that I need. It's stuff that piled up on various flat surfaces in my apartment and had to be swept into boxes or bags for quick cleaning, then tossed into the garage, due to vistors coming over.
I also have a lot of clothes out there I need to sort through, some of which need to be washed and some of which just need to go to Goodwill or a women's shelter. How'd those clothes get out there? Same as the papers above. Obviously they're not clothes I wear all the time, but I've seen some that I do want to wear again.
I'm vacillating between actually sorting through everything (which is what I'm kinda doing now) and just piling it all to one side so that there's room for the old furniture. As time wears on and I become tired, I'm sure I'll end up doing the latter, but for now I'll continue with the former (I'm finding all sorts of things I've been looking for over the last few months). I almost wish I had a digital camera so that I could chart the progress and post it here.
I'm just glad that I've actually organized the garage a couple of times over the course of my eight years in this apartment. I'd hate to see what it would look like otherwise!
Back to the garage I go! I hope I can come out alive! *crosses fingers*
Wish me luck, y'all. And if I don't post in the next few days, you can assume I've melted away into the asphalt of my driveway, never again to be more then a splotch.
How can I ask love to hold the mysteryFarewell To The Old Me by Dar Williams (from The Beauty of the Rain)
When just look at me
It's all push and pull collateral
I don't want to be the one that gets the next surprise
I'll plan it out this time
Though I used to think that things were meant to be
Farewell to the old me
Farewell to the old me
My life is working better now
It all was changing anyhow
I danced a lot of nights until the grass was wet
It wasn't over yet
Round bout 3 a.m. you made a friend
And I followed a lot of idle crazy thoughts because
It's where the meaning was
And I tried to find it every other way
Farewell to the old me
Farewell to the old me
My life is working better now
It all was changing anyhow
So I can turn on the charm
And show them nothing more
Than what I've done before
Nothing much new
But it'll do
'Cause I don't wanna be the one who makes you laugh out loud
I want to make you proud
And you always said you knew what I could be
So farewell to the old me
Farewell to the old me
My life is working better now
It all was changing anyhow
Time and the old me
Farewell to the old me
There are songs you hear, you like, but for some reason you don't really listen to the words. Perhaps you're distracted by other, equally wonderful, songs on the disc. Perhaps your ears just aren't open to that song. Who knows the reason?
Months later you hear the song in a different setting, different context. You listen to the lyrics - really listen - and they strike your legs from under you. What you initially thought was a song about starting over is really a song about shutting oneself off from, not only the pain of the past, but possibly true happiness of the future. And it breaks your heart to hear it.
It doesn't help that other songs you hear on the same disc are equally heart-wrenching - taking that vital, tender organ that you thought was starting to heal and turning, contorting, buckling it, until you wonder how to untie the twist in it, or if that twist can ever be untied as the tears intrude upon your night fantasies, your dreams.
And you think, maybe it's time to turn off the stereo and fall back into the welcoming embrace of Morpheus.
Labels: musical interlude
My first attempted headshot, back in 1982. I was 16, in Los Angeles for less than a year, and I had read in the paper that producers were looking for unknowns for the new Michael Douglas movie, The Star Chamber (Anyone remember that? Thought not.) So I asked my dad to take my picture so I could send it in. Yeah, I was pretty naive, too. but ya gotta love the purple eye shadow (which I still occasionally wear, just not so shimmery), never-shaped eyebrows and feathered hair, which almost reached my buttocks. I think I had braided it the night before so that it would be wavy. Unfortunately the wave is lost in the scan. But trust me, I was 1980's smokin'...
My first professional headshot, taken in 1987. Notice how 21 year old Carol was working the fashionable Tower of Hair. It's a good thing I washed my hair daily. Who knows what wild life might have breeded in that mass?
This was taken in 1998 by BFHubby. I was 32 and sportin' the modified Marlo Thomas 'do. I've received many compliments on that style, with many people wondering why I don't go back to it. Mainly because it takes forever to get it looking that good. I just don't have that kind of patience. Long hair is actually easier for me.
BTW, this photo marks one of the first photos I've ever liked where I have a big smile.
My last headshot, taken in 2000, You may recognize it as the photo I've chosen to accompany the title up at the top. BFHubby and I decided to go for something a little more dramatic this time. More sex appeal, less cute. A pretty good picture, though in retrospect I wish he hadn't used the soft focus filter. But that's okay, now I know I don't like that look.
Friday, August 06, 2004
Despite my previous confession, the result of which was, no doubt, the loss of all respect for me, won't you please sponsor me? I'm on my hands and knees, people! PLEASE?!
But I can't keep it inside any longer. It gnaws at my soul, screaming to be released.
I-- Well, I--
I said, "IlikeWildWildWest."
Fine. I'll shout it if you like.
I. Like. Wild. Wild. West!
There. Ya happy? Jeez Louise!
Look. I know it's a bad movie. I knew it was a bad movie when I first saw it. Overwrought, disjointed, splashy style just for the sake of splashy style, negligible characters - even the main characters - no respect for the source material. It, as a movie, sucked big hairy balls.
Whenever it's on TV, like it was last night (I turned it off, but only because of my poor lil' head), I have to stop and watch. No, I don't know why. Except, maybe, the presence of Kevin Kline and Kenneth Branagh. Branagh is obviously having a ball with the character of Dr. Arliss Loveless, chewing every piece of scenery that isn't nailed down, possibly even cracking his teeth on the spider before he realized it was metal and CGI. Normally I cringe at such overacting, but I don't mind it so much here. And I've always adored Kevin Kline, so it's no surprise I love him here, even when he sometimes looks a bit displeased to be in the movie.
There's no logic, no rhyme or reason for my enjoyment of Wild Wild West. It just is and I've decided to go along for the ride and nothing anyone can say can change my mind. So there.
Then again, though I've only seen it once, I kinda liked The Avengers.
What? Oh, leave me alone!
Not that I'm generally in the mood to wake up, perform my morning ablutions, bus forty minutes (hey, way better than the old 1-1/2 hours to Lions Gate) and buzz around like a busy little bee on a daily basis. I mean, I'm fine with it and all. I don't hate it with the heat of a billions white-hot suns - like my Lions Gate job - and there are things I genuinely like about it, but it's not first on my list of "Things I'd Rather Do". Which is cool.
But today? I have got major "I-Don't-Want-To-Work-And-You-Can't-Make-Me-Okay-Maybe-You-Can-Make-Me-But-I-May-Have-To-Pout-A-Little"-itis.
(Think that's long? You should see its Latin name.)
Maybe it's because I woke up early to move things around in my apartment so there would be room for the new furniture. Though it turns out that the guy that was going to help me (he works in the same building I do) had to postpone because his little daughter hurt her knee while jumping rope, the poor sweetie. The postponement actually works out better for me, but I'm still sad about his little girl.
Or maybe because, even though my headache was on the wane before I fell asleep on my couch at 10pm last night, I'm still a little sapped (it was getting really bad there - stupid bad neck).
Or maybe I'm just feeling really lazy today. I don't know. Whatever the cause all work related stuff feels as if I'm slogging through molasses (if a trifle less sticky). And I really, really don't want to talk to people on the phone if it's work related, though I so very much have to.
Anyway, nose to grindstone I go. I'd better be careful or I'll have no nose left at all, which, considering I have a normal-sized nose - unlike some family members - won't take very long.
*gazes longingly at sofas in showroom* A little nap won't hurt, right?
Thursday, August 05, 2004
But tonight, my friends, tonight I hit the jackpot. I walked away with eight books, most by authors I either already enjoy or have wanted to read. Stephen King, Philip K. Dick, Elmore Leonard, Jonathan Kellerman, Kurt Vonnegut, Robert B. Parker, William Goldman. The last book, Smilia's Sense of Snow, by Peter Hoag, looks intriguing. They'll all probably be BookCrossed when I'm finished, but I'm very excited by my haul.
I was going to write more, but this headache I've had since about 5:30pm is just getting worse (hence only the one link above). Time to have the rice I'm currently cooking, then a couple of ibuprofen and to bed with me.
BTW, I found someone to help me with the furniture tomorrow night. Yea!
My ears perked up. The regional SisterCompany VP, whose office is in our showroom, motioned to a sofa and lounge chair (with matching ottoman) that had been delivered to the showroom a couple of days before. It would seem that these samples, which were constructed specifically for a high level hotel client, were actually useless to the VP, as the sofa cushions have a gap between them and the faux leather on the chair is mis-stapled. Not perfect, therefore not acceptable to show. And here they were, being offered to me for free.
Thinking back on my $20 yard sale sofa, it was pretty much a no-brainer. I mean, the fabric on the sofa is actually pretty hideous, but it's nothing that a slipcover can't cure. And the faux leather of the chair and ottoman is dark green, which would go perfectly with my living room decor. Both pieces are well-made and brand new.
Slight problem: how to get it from West Hollywood to my place in the eastern San Fernando Valley? The VP wants them out by Monday. Thoughts went to several friends who have vehicles that might be big enough, but they're either out of town or very busy this weekend or I'm taking a self-imposed break from them (the occasional joke e-mail from both of us doesn't count, does it?). I suppose I could rent a small truck, maybe a U-Haul pick-up, and recruit a couple of friends to help with the lifting, but I have no idea how to get it from the 2nd floor of my work building to the street level without using the freight elevator and the freight elevator would be shut down during the hours that my friends would be available to help move. Somehow I just don't see us carrying a 6' couch down a couple of sets of escalators.
What to do, what to do...
Kickin' back and feelin' groovy...
I like this squirrel's attitude.
Apparently not, from what I've read.
Nader, dude, deflate the ego and step off. I think most of your ideas and points are good ones. I voted for you over Clinton - twice. But you're really not helping this country by running this time around. Here's $50 - go buy yourself a clue.
Tuesday, August 03, 2004
It's a shame I've gotten so cynical about the current administration that when I heard about the latest terrorist threats, my first thought was that it was interesting this "news" came so soon after the Democratic Convention. Trying to distract the public again, Ridge? I thought.
So image my non-surprise when it was discovered that the intelligence upon which the raised terror alert is based is at least three years old. Again the cynical part of my brain takes over, wondering where this information has been languishing all this time.
I hate being so distrustful, but since I haven't trusted Bush or any of his cronies since before the stolen 2000 election, I guess it's become rather ingrained in me at this point.
I just hope that I'm wrong and that Ridge is wrong, for the sake of the people of New York, Washington and Newark.
I was standing in some room, talking to Bill Clinton. Bill and I are such good friends that he's asking my advice:
"So-and-So suggested that I speak to Such-and-Such as if we were long lost friends."
"No," says a voice off to the right, not unkindly. Hillary joins us, touching her husband's arm affectionately. "I don't think that's such a good idea. You want to be professional. He'll respect you more."
I shake my head hesitantly. "Well, that is true to a certain point, but at the same time you want to draw him in, to feel a certain kinship to you. So I think you should combine the two methods: be friendly, but professional."
Bill looks thoughtful at our suggestions, nods his head slowly. At this point I move to put my arm around his waist, in a purely friendly manner, as Hillary does the same on the other side. His arms encircle our shoulders and he draws us close, kissing the top of Hillary's head. We stand like that for a little while, with nothing but friendship, caring and a little sadness in the air, then I woke up.
Of all people, in my dream I'm giving Bill Clinton advice on how to talk to someone, how to bring them to his way of thinking. That's like advising Bush on how to act unilaterally and antagonize our friends and enemies in the world community. I'm thinking it kinda comes naturally.
Yeah. Egotistical much?
Monday, August 02, 2004
So I have no energy to finish the entry I'd started earlier today. You'll have to make do with this for now as you wait breathlessly for the timeless bit of wisdom I hope to impart tomorrow.
Okay, it's not all that wise, and probably not exactly timeless, but I don't think it'll be too boring. I hope.
Now if you'll excuse me while I prop up my poor sore, must-be-bloated feet, as they have been tightly wedged into shoes that fit me fine just last Sunday...
Sunday, August 01, 2004
Your Journal Is Rated PG-13
Rather than spill all, you paint in broad strokes
(In case your journal is read by your folks!)
Not that don't have any naughty secrets to show
You're just smart enough to keep it on the downlow
What's Your Journal Rated?
More Great Quizzes from Quiz Diva
Your Passion is Scarlet!
You're more than passionate - you're burning hot!
Love is a serious thing for you, and you don't take the game lightly.
You are always open to passion... in every possibile form.
No doubt about it... you're a wild ride!
What Color Is Your Passion?
More Great Quizzes from Quiz Diva
Rest assured, my recent flurry of quizzes will subside. I think.
Category IV - The Musketeer
You have a small, highly edited social group, and you like it that way.
What Type of Social Entity are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
I guess that's sort of right, although it doesn't feel like that's the case to me. I mean, it's not like I'm standing guard at the friendship door, turning people away ("No, no, no, yes, you may enter, no, you've got to be kidding!") I love meeting new people, and am always a little disappointed when someone cool that I meet ends up, for whatever reason, not being more than an occasional acquaintance.
Still, I admit that I'm very picky about who I call "friend". Maybe that comes from moving so often, and being shy as a girl - it was difficult for me maintain friendships of any kind. So "friend" has become a special, rather loaded word for me and I use it sparingly, which I think confuses some of my friends. For instance, if we're not close and I don't see someone on a fairly regular basis, then that person is an acquaintance. If we're not close but I see someone pretty regularly, then that person is a, well, I guess he/she is a friend. But I have some friends who I very rarely see, but with whom I stay in contact, and I think of them as dear friends. And I know they feel the same about me, because they tell me so.
I don't know. It's all about how I feel in my gut. And though some people may call themselves my friend, or feel they're closer to me than I am to them, if I don't feel that way I can't, in good conscience, call them a close friend. Not that I'll tell them so. Because that just seems mean.
I have to say, the group of close friends that I have are some of the best friends a person could hope to have. And I wouldn't trade any of them for all the tea in China.
(Though maybe all the tea in Holland... What? That's some damned fine tea!)
First up: religion. More specifically, the 37 page document published today by the Vatican, decrying feminism as calling "into question the family, in its natural two-parent structure of mother and father, and to make homosexuality and heterosexuality virtually equivalent".
I wish I could read the actual document so that I could make up my own mind, but in lieu of that, I've read several news reports, including those in the Vatican Times. While some of it is, surprisingly enough, almost positive about the roles of women in the workplace, and mentions that women should have greater governance in the Catholic Church (though stopping short of permitting women to become priests, shock of shocks), the document is still the product of jurassic thought on behalf of the Pope and those close to him. Its criticism of feminism as causing women "in order to be themselves, [...] the adversaries of men" which "has its most immediate and lethal effects in the structure of the family" is patently ridiculous and, despite its assurance that "this does not mean that women should be considered from the sole perspective of physical procreation" obviously seeks to put us back in solely in that role. For this I am outraged. As should anyone be with half a brain.
I've certainly not hidden the fact that someday I would like a husband and children. I know that, when that happens (every single person in my life keeps assuring me it will - including, to some extent, CuteNerdBoy and, of all people, my neighbor [he of the Mustang and Drunken Marriage Proposal]) they will be the most important people in my life and will be my first priorities. But they will never be the only people, the only priorities in my life, nor should they be. As I should not be the only person and priority in their lives. And I'll be damned if I'll let anyone, especially a bunch of out-of-touch old men in Italy dictate "traditional family policy" to me or my daughters. (And yes, those last quotes were sarcasm quotes.)
(Wanna read more? Check out these links.)
(Addendum - 3:32am: In re-reading this [I need to re-read a bit closer before publishing - or wait until I'm more awake] I left out somthing I meant to mention: the treatment of same-sex marriage as less than a non-entity. Maybe because this is nothing surprising from the Catholic Church [though it appears that priests molesting little boys - that is perfectly okay, probably because it's supposed to be kept hush-hush - grunts and noises and screaming cannot convey how much this upsets me]. But it still infuriates me. I can't begin to tell you how much this infuriates me. And I will never, ever understand how same-sex marriages threaten heterosexual marriages, or the "institution of marriage". I'd say the logic escapes me, but there is no logic, just knee-jerk rhetoric. Time to move on before my head explodes.)
So now we have politics up at bat. I haven't talked about the Democratic National Convention at all because, to be honest, I wasn't watching it, not even on basic cable.
That's not entirely true. I did keep somewhat up to date on it, but it was, not surprisingly, through The Daily Show. (This just in: I still want Jon Stewart to, uh, "eat cookies in my bed", if you know what I mean, and I think you do. New development: Stephen Colbert can join us. But, as usual, I digress...)
Just by watching 30 minutes a day over the course of the week I was able to get a pretty good idea about what was going on. But because I was curious about some of the actual speeches, I moseyed over to the New York Times, where they have full speech transcripts and video excerpts (free registration required, but definitely worth it). The only exception was Kerry's acceptance speech, which has the entire speech on video, as it should. I only read and watched a few of the available speeches, but my impressions, such as are:
I'm a spiritual gal. I believe in G-d and all that. But does practically every speechmaker have to ask Him to bless this country and the delegates? It may come as a shock to them, but not every American believes in G-d. So bringing Him in on a political convention smacks as unseemly and, well, a little offensive. I mean, I think He would pay more attention to the fate of a country - especially one that has the potential to royally fuck up the world - then, say, whether or not Beyonce won a Grammy, but it's still annoying.
I agree with most people about Barack Obama. He's someone to watch out for. And I'm proud that he's running for Senate in my birth-state.
Al Sharpton may have departed from the text on the teleprompter, and I've always thought he was just a bigmouth before (I've really never known much about him), but his extemporaneous speech was a fire-bolt that was desperately needed.
Well said, Howard Dean. Very well said. Now I truly understand why so many people supported him.
How much do I love Jimmy Carter for his speech, for basically putting Bush and Co. in their place? My arms cannot spread wide enough for me to say, "I love him this much."
Excellent speech by John Edwards and I very much look forward to his debates with that fucker Cheney. Though I do wish I would stop thinking of that fraudulent "psychic" when I hear Edwards' name. But that's not the VP candidate's fault.
Last, but not even close to least: John Kerry. He's gotten a lot of flak about his wooden delivery and lack of charisma. I'll let y'all in on a little secret: when it comes down to it, I couldn't give two shits about whether the President of the United States has charisma, as long as he (or she) can actually lead this country and make it better. So if Kerry can turn this country around (or at least make very positive steps in that direction) but is a bit lacking in the fiery delivery department, I say: who gives a flying fuck?
That said, this may come as a shock to people, but when I watched and listened to his speech, I saw fire. I heard passion. Not as flamboyant as Sharpton, not as charismatic as Clinton, but it was there nonetheless. And I believed that he believed every word he said. He was sincere. And while I still need to look more into his record as lieutenant-governor of Massachusetts and senator, I think that, not only is he a viable alternative to the cancer that currently infests the highest levels of federal government, but he might actually make a pretty good president. Which is more than I'd hoped for.
I keep in mind the closing words of Jon Stewart from Friday night's The Daily Show: watch Bush's speech at the Republican National Convention, then turn off the TV, compare the speeches of Kerry and Bush, and come to my own conclusions. And I will try to watch Bush's speech, in hopes that I can do so without vomiting up my spleen.
I gotta say, though - I'm ready for November.
Bring it on.