A Middlebrooks Miscellany

Oh yeah, wedding blogging

2010-06-28T19:11:00.006-04:00

This is my millionth pathetic attempt to revive my blog. In the many, many months since last I posted (which didn't even count), oh so much has happened. The boy and I adjusted to cohabitation, bought a house (hello, suburbia) and got engaged. I'm hoping that by forcing myself to compose the occasional wedding-related post, I'll start writing for real (?) again.

I wrote a guest post for The Plunge Project, the wedding blog of a Knoxvillian, Nicole (who has ties to Jacksonville...tiny world), and it was fun to write and share and talk about all this bullshit like it really matters. Which it does. But no one takes you seriously when you are fretting about flowers. They just don't. But by god, I can put it in a blog and I will feel better.

That said, I need to bring up a very important issue: the Serious Face wedding portrait. A handful of my high school acquaintances have gotten married recently, and after seeing their pictures, it seems like this is the big trend.

I speak only for myself here, but really, I can’t say I’m a fan. I don’t want to offend anyone because everyone wants to remember their wedding in their own way, but I just can’t get behind the Serious Face. I’ve only seen a few shots where the people don’t look kind of angry or where they’re gunning to be Male Model of the year.

Weddings are fun and exciting; I can’t imagine not having a big ridiculous smile on my face in all my pictures. I want to look back and think how happy I was all day and now how I had to force myself into a Serious Face look — or, worse, that making a not-happy face was easy.

I think there is definitely a place for pictures in which everyone isn't all smiley, but it's about looking thoughtful, not like you're throwing eye daggers at your photographer. However, I wonder if the Serious Face is a trend that photogs are latching onto and encouraging of their subjects. We have fabulous photogs, and I've seen lots of their work, so I can't imagine them suggesting it, but I really doubt I'd be enthused to go along with it if they did.

Of course, it's your wedding blah blah blah, but I just don't understand why anyone would at any point just not want to look totally happy.

False alarm

2009-10-02T23:57:00.002-04:00

Last time I wrote here, it tricked even me. I planned on getting back in the swing of things and at least writing something occasionally funny or weird or potentially even insightful, but that didn't work out. I don't even blame Twitter anymore; I'm just lazy. I also lose track of topics I think would be good to write about, mostly because they're in the political realm, and sometimes I worry that I come off sounding like an idiot. So I Twitter away and think about things, and that's pretty much that. I also have little interest in coming home to read and write on a computer when I spend all my time at work reading and writing on a computer.

See? That was pretty much it.

It's been so long

2009-08-22T22:28:00.002-04:00

Oh blog, ye of great neglect! I have really good intentions all the time to actually write stuff on a regular basis, but by the time I actually sit down to do it, I don't want to anymore. I don't have exciting stories unless I talk about work, and that's something I try to avoid in public forums, and the current events I have something to say about are often no longer that current by the time I get around to the ol' blog.

But I didn't want the entire month of August to go by without posting SOMETHING, so here's this little survey, via Sam. Once upon a time, I had a LiveJournal and that sucker was fulllll of teh surveys. I had a lot of time on my hands.4

1. Where did you go on your first airplane ride?
To L.A. to visit the aforementioned Sam during sophomore year of college. I was a little freaked out, but she held my hand and I was OK.

2. What is your earliest memory?
Uhhhhh hitting my head on a table at preschool and needing stitches. I can't think of anything specific from prior to that. Maybe that's why?

3. What was your second grade teacher's name?
Ms. Bonville. When we had to go to the bathroom she would ask us "Number one or number two?" to keep track of about how long we should be gone (we were wanderers). I once answered "number three!" I was an asshole from an early age (but really, I probably just had to go).

4. What was the last thing you watched on tv?
America's Best Dance Crew. I can't do anything.

5. My uncle once:
I have a few uncles. Ummmm...Harrison once gave me a super cool Skipper doll for Christmas. She had a little toy puppy. I love(d) Barbie.

6. How long was your longest relationship?
A year and a week, as of today.

7. What do you want to be?
Asleep? Not hungry? Thin? Smarter? More well read? Less poor? A better cook? Seriously, this is a really unfair question.

8. What was the last thing you received in the mail?
A bill. Huzzah!

9. If you could change one thing about the world, what would it be?
I can only pick one? More education for women.

10. Would you prefer 10 inches of snow or 100 degree weather?
Snooooooooooooow!

11. What is your homepage set to?
A blank screen. My computer doesn't cooperate if it's asked to do something right away. Having an actual homepage would just crash Safari.

12. Last 5 websites you visited:
Gmail, Facebook, Google reader, Twitter, Twitpic

13. Were you a planned baby?
I find it unlikely. It's my understanding there was a cold snap around January/February 1985 in East Tennessee. My BFF's birthday is only two days after mine, and her parents lived just up the hill from mine. It was cold. What do you expect?

14. What do you believe is the meaning of life?
I was going to start writing the "sperm" song from Monty Python's Meaning of Life, but this is a family environment here. Oh wait. That was a joke and I didn't even mean to make it!

15. What bill do you hate paying the most?
All of them? I guess the utilities. Air conditioning should be free because THIS IS FLORIDA.

16. How many schools did you attend through grade twelve?
Just two. Wearwood for K-8, and GP for 9-12.

17. The Cosby Show or The Simpsons?
The Simpsons, for definitely.

18. Three signs summer is here:
It's not January. That's about it.

19. The last time you had your feelings hurt:
Yesterday.

20. Who was your first best friend?
Audrey, when we were in preschool. And then her family moved to Idaho.

I got that boom boom boom (or not)

2009-06-16T20:21:00.003-04:00

OK, if you know me, you know I am a consumer of mom blogs. I can't help it. I don't have a kid, nor do I want one for a long time, but I read them anyhow. To be prepared and stuff, right? Sure. Anyhow, I kind of love Girl's Gone Child, written by Rebecca Woolf, and she usually talks about things relevant to everyone but in the context of being a parent. Today her post was related to the most recent Momversation, which dealt with keeping/not keeping guns in the home when you have a kid.

Gun control is something I care a lot about, largely because I grew up in an area where guns were the norm and people didn't think twice about using them, whether for sport or fun or whatever, but also because you can hardly go a day without seeing something in the news about gun-related violence or accidental shootings or "how could this happen?" stories.

I wasn't really raised with a STAY AWAY FROM GUNS attitude; I remember shooting a rifle for the first time when I was 8 years old, and my brother and I stayed with our dad for a couple days. We shot some cans off a log in the woods, though; we didn't target any animals and we knew enough not to point the thing at each other. Then in middle school, instead of PE for a semester, we had hunter's safety (hunting was big, y'all), and we learned not only how to be safe while hunting but also how to be safe around firearms. At the end of the course, we (a bunch of seventh-graders...in hindsight I CANNOT BELIEVE this actually happened, but welcome to Sevier County, Tenn.) went to the shooting range and shot clay pigeons. Sure, it was fun to take a field trip to shoot guns, but I do think it was smart to apply all the things we learned.

That said, do I think it's a good idea to keep guns in the home? Unless you are a serious hunter, absolutely not. And if you are a serious hunter, I'm only (marginally) OK with it if the guns are kept locked up in a location inaccessible by anyone other than one single person they are licensed to and the bullets are kept in an entirely different location (also under lock and key). Otherwise, what business do you have owning a gun? What good does it do?

While I'm sure pro-gun people are tired of hearing us "pacifists" talk about Freudian complexes (tried to link to a comment on Rebecca's post but couldn't...ugh Blogger!) and how tighter gun laws prevent gun-related violence, I'm pretty tired of the guns-as-a-form-of-self-defense and freer access reduces crime arguments. The only way a gun is going to truly be of use for self-defense is if a) you have a concealed carry permit and are carrying the gun when/if you're attacked or b) you keep a gun/guns stashed around your home for easy access, in which case they are EASILY ACCESSIBLE BY ANYONE (including children, other adults and/or potential attackers who might know where to look). Also, if someone is hell-bent on hurting you, they're going to hurt you. I'm not saying you should just take it, by all means, everyone is entitled to fight back some way somehow, but is shooting (and possibly killing) someone going to fix it? What if there's a next time?

When I moved to Florida and lived by myself for the first time, I was capital-P Paranoid. I'm anxious by nature, but every little noise would have me questioning where it was coming from. My apartment was pretty secure, and my neighborhood was pretty safe, but there's always a big what if factor, especially for a single woman living alone. Did I wonder how I'd defend myself if someone ever broke in or jumped me while I walked from my car to the house? Sure I did, and I concluded that I would have to rely on smarts and/or physical strength because I didn't (and don't) have anything remotely weapon-like, with the exception of my kitchen knives and well, they're in the kitchen, not my bedside table. And what if a potential attacker had a gun or other weapon? I chose not to entertain the possibility.

I absolutely think that everyone has the right, nay, the responsibility to protect themselves and their family/friends. But isn't prevention a big part of that? I understand that not everyone has the luxury of living in a secure home with outdoor lights or a security system or a dog that's going to bark and alert you to something that might be wrong, but doesn't carrying a gun make you vulnerable too? Aren't people's weapons turned on them?

Gun control laws exist for a reason. People should have to go through an extensive background check and take exams or something in order to own a gun and then they should have to jump through a million tiny little hoops to keep the gun. There should be no gun shows. There should be small dealers, with limited inventory who specialize in certain firearms. However, I am not so naive to think that this will eradicate the illegal use of firearms, but I'd like to think it would make it more difficult to obtain them. If someone wants to get a gun and they don't do it through legal channels, they're still going to find a way to get that gun. I just want to figure out how to make it as difficult as possible.

That said, I think it is totally necessary to educate people about guns and how to use them properly. If ever you're in a situation where you have to use a gun, you don't want to be wondering about how it works. While I never plan on going hunting or owning a gun, and despite my hillbilly school system, I'm glad I learned at an early age how to handle a gun and, more importantly, how to get out of the way of a gun. When I have kids, I plan to educate them about the importance of self-defense (preferably with their fists), but I also plan to teach them about both the power and the danger that come with guns. Yeah, I'll probably let them learn to shoot when they're old enough, simply because I see that as a key part of firearm education. And I'll be the first to admit that shooting a gun is a pretty powerful feeling, but only when you're shooting at little clay discs or a piece of paper, not people or animals.

So am I scared of guns? Hell yes. Do I think they have their place in society? Yes. Do I think kids should be sheltered from them? No. Kids (and adults, for that matter) should be thoroughly educated about guns, but I'd rather teach my kids to be peaceful, to break down and avoid conflict and solve problems with their minds and their words rather than with violence of any sort.

But I promise you that my honor student will totally be able to kick your slacker kid's ass if the situation calls for it.

WHAT have I done?

2009-04-01T10:01:00.003-04:00

Note: I started this post on April 1. I got sidetracked and forgot about it. Now it's April 6. NaBloPoMo FAIL. Anyway.

Because I am follower, I signed up for NaBloPoMo (Brumley, get excited) because all my favorite bloggers are doing it. Well, a couple of them are doing it. And now I'm going to post something every single day for the month of April. Fuck, why couldn't I have done this in February, since it has so few days? Ahhhh, hindsight is 20/20.

Since I really missed the whole blog-every-day boat, I feel like I should have some good, clever, well thought out post ready to deliver to you, my loyal reader. Unfortunately, I don't. I blame my job. And Twitter. At work, I'm in front of a computer all day long, and when I'm not at work, I spend my computer time catching up on my favorite blogs and looking for fun recipes. Seriously. I don't even watch YouTube anymore, which is really saying something because I love YouTube.

And Twitter. It is at the root of the problem. I spend my day tweeting my random thoughts and posting links and such, and by the time I try to sit down and write a coherent blog post, it amounts to nothing more than a rehash of the day's tweets. Lame.

So that's why I signed up for NaBloPoMo. I figured that might keep me accountable, you know, force me to write SOMETHING on this thing, even it's only a collection of less-than-tweet-worthy random thoughts. I also remember occasionally that it would be nice to update this thinkg so people actually know what's happening in my life, but that's also boring.

I HAVE NO LIFE. There, I said it. I go to work, I go home. Sometimes I go somewhere to get coffee and sometimes I leech off an open wireless connection I find. When I'm feeling crazy and adventurous, I'll — get ready for it — bake a cake or something. I KNOW!!!! I better caaaaallllllm down.

Anyhow. There are actually things going on in my life that are worth sharing, but I don't necessarily feel like writing about that today. Maybe tomorrow, though. Because I really have to post tomorrow. And the day after that. And so on.

And then when I run out of things to say, I'm just going to aggregate my tweets of the day for all you non-Tweeple. Because it's important that you know every crackpot musing that runs through my head at any time of the day.

Back with 7.5 percent more nonsense!

2009-03-26T00:09:00.003-04:00

I should do a correlation study of my blog and see if my threory proves true that I blog more in happier times. I think I would be right. But being right is no fun if there's not a prize. Anyway, the sadness is mostly coming from work these days. Well, OK, it's only coming from work these days.

As everyone knows, newspapers are tanking (hard), and we're no exception here. Actually, we are. We make tons of money. Alas, our parent company has huge debts, and we don't make quite enough money to pay that off. I think the company would be in better shape if they cut the dead weight (book publishing, oodles of free publications, the Georgia edition...), but alas those are Traditions and Important Things to the family and must only pried out of the family's cold, dead hands.

But I digress. As part of the company's money-saving efforts, everyone had to take a pay cut. They were done on a "sliding" scale (that didn't so much slide as it bumped along and stopped hard enough that the people who make the real money won't be hurt), so it could be worse, but I'm losing 7.5 percent of my already not-enough salary. That's a lot of money right now. I already don't make enough to cover the bills, but losing that much more is going to require some sort of magic fix. Fortunately, I am good at being poor.

I suppose my biggest gripe about the cuts (other than the cuts themselves) is that people who make $50,000+ lose 10 percent. That's a lot, yeah, but I feel like that barely touches the corporate people who make a large six figures. Ten percent of $250,000? Ouch, but OK. Seven and a half percent to $30,000? How am I supposed to live? Just sayin'.

So in an effort to cut costs where necessary, I've canceled my cable. TV and Internet. I would feel worse about it but a) Comcast is teh suck and b) I like paying the rent more than I like Grey's and ANTM. Sort of. There are bright sides though. The Boy and I are moving in together when my lease is up here in May, so TV and Internets will return then. And when I need Internet, I'll go back to Starbucks or some other coffee-serving place with wireless and sit and blog and ~~make fun of people~~check my e-mail. So my blog will be funny again, even if the effort is not sustained. Rejoice!

To the basement! Oh wait.

2009-02-18T23:36:00.000-05:00

There's a big storm moving through Northeast Florida (and most of the Southeast I think),
and when I opened jacksonville.com this morning, I was greeted with this:

Part of the reason I moved to Florida was because the weather is pretty appealing. It doesn't get THAT cold, and when it does, it's only for a day or two. It rains less often here (this is only a slight difference). OK so we have hurricanes and stuff, but Jacksonville hasn't been hit directly in a really long time. And we'll know for a week or more when one is on the way.

But tornadoes? Tennessee's tornado season lasts roughly from May to July, and then September to November. In East TN, it's not so bad, since we have the mountains and all, but we had tornado watches and warnings all the time in Nashville. And then I would be scared.

My point (come on, it's early, I can't think clearly): Florida should not have tornadoes, regardless of how far north Jacksonville is. And if we DID have a tornado, that would suck because a) no one in Florida has a basement and b) no one likes storm damage.

Office space

2009-02-09T00:02:00.002-05:00

While working at a newspaper has its low points, it certainly has its share of high ones. Among the perks is pretty much total freedom to put whatever we want on the walls around us (at least at my paper; I can't really vouch for others). From what I understand, in most "creative" professions, there's quite a bit of flexibility in cubicle decor.

Examples: We have a "plant lady" at work who has a veritable jungle (I am not even kidding. She has a tree.) in and around her cube. My friend Diana had an impressive collection of toys. One guy has the biggest collection of comic book action figures I have ever seen, and an inflatable alien lives on the Sports desk. And (bless their hearts) many reporters have papers, file folders and dirty coffee mugs strewn about their cubes.

So when I read this article about the strict rules of cube decor at Martha Stewart, I was a little shocked. Employees can't have office supplies beyond the list of "approved" utensils, and the offices are kept...sterile. Not just clean. Sterile. They can't even have coffee mugs. WHICH MEANS LESS COFFEE. WHO WORKS IN JOURNALISM WITHOUT COFFEE?

For one thing, my dream has long been to work for either Vogue or National Geographic or Martha Stewart Living. While I'm sure I would love getting to copy edit stories about living room paint colors, I don't know if I could like very much to do it in a bare, boring cube. You'd also think Martha would encourage some level of decorating creativity, even if it would probably be in her style (Pink granite driveways!).

For another thing, how can people work well if they can't look at the things they enjoy? I have a collection of little notes, pictures, cartoons and calendars that make my days much better. Some of them remind me to keep going when I'd rather just crawl under my desk for a quick nap, and others give me laugh when I need it. And some things are just there...because I put them there and now don't want to take them down.

What really gets me, I think, is the rule on approved writing utensils. I have a black pen (one, single black pen) and the rest are colored. I use a pink or green highlighter (Yellow? Ew.), and red pens remind me of Mr. Watson (Ask any student of Wearwood Elementary, and they will tell you he is/was the worst teacher that ever lived.) and thus make me want to jump off a high building.

The most important thing, I think, about being able to put up whatever we want in our cubes/offices is that those little things remind us that there is life beyond Outlook and InDesign and bloody DT. Most newsroom employees stare at a computer screen for 8+ hours a day, and we don't really have windows from which to see the outside, so all those little things we keep around are basically sanity savers. They are for me, anyway.

On my interview, I noticed a handful of people with fun-looking cubes and offices. And then my boss drew a picture with a purple pen. And I knew I would be OK here.

Oh, and when I'm hugely successful (ha!) and have my own business, I think I'll use Pottery Barn Teen for inspiration. Who doesn't love pink furniture?

Deep thoughts

2009-01-28T12:43:00.001-05:00

This morning at the gym, I was really hoping something would happen that I could write about and make fun of later. Sadly, I was not so lucky.

There was only one older dude there when I got there, so my hopes of a good story were dashed. The only thing that happened was that Dude asked me if I was OK after I almost passed out from doing squats because I am foolish and think I can do things like that. Then he ran — RAN — on the treadmill for the rest of the time I worked out, no doubt grateful for his old man body that doesn’t try to pass out from lifting weight. I didn’t eat anything before I went, so that probably had something to do with it, although there is no excuse for fatigue when you use the embarrassingly not heavy weights I chose.

But I digress.

Well, sort of. When I’m at the gym I usually do some kind of weights and then walk on the treadmill for a half hour or something. Let me tell you, that treadmill time sucks. I don’t like walking or running unless I’m getting somewhere, and the time just draaaags by. So to entertain myself I listen to Hanson or NPR and think about Things. These Things are typically pointless and really don’t do anything to make the time pass more quickly because they aren’t really anything that requires deep thought.

Anyhow, this morning I was thinking about work. No, not my actual job because that doesn’t require a lot of outside thinking unless I’m looking at a copy of the paper, but my place of work. Specifically, I was thinking about our entrance and exit gates to the employee parking lot.

A few months ago, a good chunk of the security staff got laid off, so our gates are now the first line of defense against keeping out the riff raff. However, the entrance gate is always up — anyone can drive in, park, walk through the open distribution gate and come right on in the building! How nice of us to make it that easy. Anyway, an e-mail was sent out this week saying the exit gate is now operational and to drive slowly and it will raise when a car approaches.

Erm, what’s wrong with this picture? Why impede employees’ exit but still make it simple for anyone to drive in? I heard there was going to be a card reader installed at some point, but in the meantime, I’m just puzzled. I mean, if someone REALLY didn’t want to wait for the exit gate, couldn’t they just drive out the entrance side? I once drove in through the exit because the entrance gate was down and the guard shack was unmanned. The same thing could happen again!

I guess the parking lot has been open-access for long enough that any real threat of something bad happening is pretty minimal. Now if only they could figure out how that dog got in the parking lot last night…

I'm poor

2009-01-27T23:37:00.003-05:00

Or maybe these Super Bowl tickets are just a teensy bit overpriced.

OK, so I find it unlikely that someone's going to go to the Super Bowl alone, so you'd probably need at least two of these suckers. Stub Hub is totally holding out on us with these deals!

Too bad I don't care about either of the teams in the game. I just felt it necessary to point out that you could buy about 10 Toyota Corollas for that price.

Some things are not OK even for Facebook

2009-01-12T10:56:00.006-05:00

Many of my Facebook friends have babies, and it's kind of precious to see some of the pictures they post. But the other day I was looking through an album one friend made of her newborn, and one of the pictures is captioned "Daddy changes the first poopy diaper!"

I'll let you guess what the picture was of.

Now, I know pooping is a natural part of life, and I'm not the least squeamish about talking about it. But seeing it? In a picture? ALL OVER A LITTLE BABY? Not really my bag, I must say.

I know everyone can put whatever pictures they want on the FB, but we recently had a story in the newspaper about how people are complaining about mothers posting pictures of themselves breastfeeding. I don't especially want to see any boob when I go on there to waste my time, but I want to see a naked, poop-covered baby butt even less.

Just saying.

Technology is slow

2009-01-09T12:48:00.003-05:00

I don't care about the flying cars that should have debuted by the year 2000 or the development of a safe, reliable way to teleport. I take that back. Teleportation would be awesome. My version would also be more efficient than, say, Harry Potter's flue powder; no ending up on the wrong side of the tracks when you just want to go get your cloak and some new schoolbooks. But I digress.

We have vending machines in several areas around the building at work, and I visit these locations often. They're your standard vending machines: Put in your money, push a couple buttons ("I did not learn my AA, BB, CCs! God god damn it damn it!"), the spiraly thing turns, and your treat falls down. Unless your treat gets stuck. On more than one occasion I've bought Twizzlers and watched the package get stuck just short of falling. Sometimes I'll make sure no one is watching and then try to shake the machine with all my might to get that package loose; these machines are obviously filled with rocks or some other ridiculously heavy material because I can't move them at all. Other times I've just paid for a second package, only to have the first one fall and the second get stuck.

I am of the opinion that if people can make computers go from the size of a room to small enough to fit in the palm of your hand, someone can come up with a more effective way to delivery vending-machine goods to the poor, hungry person waiting. I don't know how this would work (I'm an English major for a reason), but I firmly believe that it is possible.

I also think that toilet technology has a long way to go (I mean, have we come THAT far from outhouses and chamber pots?), but that is another conversation for another day.

2008: Good riddance

2009-01-05T20:34:00.005-05:00

I've been meaning to do some kind of 2008 wrap-up, but every start I make feels like it doesn't even do justice to the year that was. At the risk of sounding all sentimental and stuff, I'm going to remember this year for quite some time. It was full of really high highs and really low lows, and maybe some points in between, but extremes were the name of the game. I don't know how ot sum up everything; I could write paragraph after paragraph in sickening detail about every little thing, but why? So I can go back and think really hard about some of the crap I put up with? Nah. So for your reading ease and my emotional ease, here is 2008: Abridged.

January: School. Took 18 hours. Thought it would manageable AS A SECOND-SEMESTER SENIOR. It was, for about three days. Started getting ASB stuff going and realized it would be a slight headache. Lived in the newsroom. Started The Great Resume Mail-Out to every newspaper for which I could find the name and address of a managing editor.

February: Still tried to fool myself into thinking 18 hours was manageable. Slipped a little but what else is new? Witnessed the Versus Valentine Debacle. Laughed hysterically whenever I thought of it. Moped that I had no Valentine. Rejection letters resulting from said mail-out began arriving. Forgot what self-esteem was. Lived in the newsroom. Worked like a maniac on ASB stuff and realized it would be worth it.

March: Totally slacking on classes. Go figure. Keeping up, but barely. Really only cared about Guralnick's class. Lived in the newsroom. Loved ASB. Jarred got fired. I took over The Hustler. My life promptly fell apart. Cried at least twice a day. In one week only managed to sleep 5 hours. Would occasionally forget to eat. Yelled at a lot of people, including some who didn't deserve it. Stopped going to class because I was afraid to be out of the newsroom. Updated the resume and continued to canvass the U.S. with that and my clips. More rejection.

April: Wait, I had class? Never missed Guralnick's though. Realized I AM a good writer. Not good enough to write a paper without reading the book and think the professor wouldn't figure me out. Cried a lot more. Had my first panic attack. Would I graduate? Thought I was going to fail two classes. Took SND Quick Course and gave my resume to everyone there. Got a call from the T-U. Got an interview from the T-U. Got a job from the T-U (on the last day of class). Saw Steve Earle. Cried during my favorite song. Still had to finish paper to get grade for a class. Didn't sleep for three days straight in order to finish paper. Did not finish paper. Lived in the newsroom. More Hustler drama.

May: Flew to Jacksonville to look for place to live. Found it. Foolishly thought I could afford it. Wrote paper that was due last month on plane home. Finished paper at the very last second possible. Got a sympathy grade that let me pass. Washed my hands of the newspaper. Drank heavily and threw up a lot. Symbolic. GRADUATED. Moved to Jacksonville. Started job. Thought I would do horribly. I didn't? Fancied myself well-adjusted.

June: Beaches. Sunburns. Made a handful of friends in the newsroom. Nothing else remarkable. Still fancied myself well-adjusted. Got kittens. Mom visited. Bought furniture. Bad choice. Started Scrabbling heavily with Pat.

July: Friends invited me with them for the Fourth. Realized, "Hey, these people actually care about me!" Got friendly with more people in the newsroom. Melted in Florida heat. Living alone is expensive. Found good places to drive around when I need to drive around.

August: Started working on the daily. Started missing home. Started wanting to broaden social circle. Got scared of my first "hurricane." Acted like a Tennessean with the snow and stocked up on bread, water and toilet paper. Lost power for three days. Met The Boy. Realized I very much liked The Boy. More work nonsense.

September: Whispers of layoffs in the newsroom. Rumors are just that. The Boy and I continue to hang out. Make wonderful friends on the news desk.

October: Birthday month! Work continues. Layoff whispers get a little louder. Start working more on the daily than on communities. Things with The Boy keep going well. Things with new friends going well. BIRTHDAY! More than I could ask for. Cat breaks her toe.

November: Layoffs become reality. One of my fantastic friends gets the boot. Another friend quits. Morale drops to frightening lows. Spend Thanksgiving with The Boy's family. Awesome. Homesick.

December: Go home for a few days. The Boy meets the family. Glad to be home but glad when I get back to Jacksonville. Work work work. Christmas is OK. Work work work. New Year's Eve is fun. Fireworks. New year.

And there you have it, my year in brief. Despite all the lows, I think the highs were enough to get me through it all. I graduated. I got a pretty decent job. I got a great boyfriend.

As soon as I was finished with The Hustler, I could breathe. In just a couple days, my whole self did a 180 and I was finally OK again. I didn't have anything to worry about, I didn't have to stay up until 5 a.m., I had nothing to keep me up until 5 a.m. It's funny; things seemed to just get mediocre and routine after all that, but they weren't. They were finally just normal.

So my year was sucky, and so was everyone else's. I guess 2008 was just Year of the Suck, and now it's time to move on and find something good to look forward to this year. I know what I'm looking forward to, and it's finally something that I want because I want it not because it's going to rescue from a crap situation (much the way I looked at graduation; no more drama). And for once, I'm excited about a new year and seeing what new things happen and how much is going to change in these next 12 months. It's a pretty long time.

If you're a fatty and you know it, clap your hands

2008-11-19T20:29:00.002-05:00

I swear my kittens just clapped their little paws. Bess was snuggled up all cute next to me on the couch, when Jorge comes running in and wedges her massive self "between" Bess and me. I say "between" because it more like "on top of Bess until Bess moved over." Now Jorge is stretched out across an entire couch cushion and poor little Bess is banished to the floor. Jorge is very demanding when it comes to attention, especially attention given while she's laying on the couch. She has laid directly on my computer while I'm sitting here because I had the audacity to only pet her on the floor and not bring her up into my lap. Brats. Both of them.

Speaking of the girls getting very snuggly, now that it's cold at night, they like to sleep even more ON MY PILLOW than they already do. Last night was cold enough that it felt like home. The low was something like 29; it was 37 or something when I left at 8:45 this morning. Unacceptable. This is Florida, for crying out loud.

I wore real shoes (if you really consider flats real shoes)to work, but I didn't wear a jacket. Just a long sleeve turtleneck (not even a sweater). Some people at work though wore coats and scarves and are saying they want to put space heaters in their cubes. Pansies.

The Boy is excited about coming home with me in December, but also kind of not excited because it's going to be effin cold. Mom ambushed him last night when I was on the phone with her and asked if she could talk to him. I was like "Oh he's busy. His hands are full. [Other excuses.]" and she was like I'll wait! So they talked, and after he was like, "Maybe next time can I get some warning?"

I'm Giving Thanks with his family next week and trying to think of something to bring. His mom said I don't have to bring anything, but I feel funny coming empty handed. Apparently the whole family is on a diet ("Hi, I'm Elizabeth. I've never been on a diet and thus only know how to cook fatty Southern food. I do best when the recipe requires more than a pound of butter. Nice to meet you [y'all]!"), so that really limits my options. I'm thinking banana bread or something safe that doesn't necessarily have to go with the actual meal. Between that stress (mild though it is) and work stress and my usual high level of stress over nothing, my digestive system is rebelling against the rest of my body in a bad way. Happy Thanksgiving!

UPDATED: Eating half a bag of Swedish fish does nothing to aid in the recovery of normal digestive processes. Make note.

As long as it's not a cuckoo clock

2008-11-17T10:22:00.003-05:00

So this weekend I went with The Boy to a work get-together at his boss' house, and everyone who was there has at least one kid, and some of them even brought their baby (or three, in the case of one of his co-workers whose poor wife popped out triplets). It was a little awkward, as The Boy and I neither are married nor have babies. But one of the babies was ultra precious and pretty cool, and we played for a long time. I mean, I pretty much ignored most of the adults and just had fun with the kid.

And last week a co-worker brought his daughter to work, and she's maybe one of the cutest baby I have ever seen and she kept looking over her shoulder and kind of raising her eyebrow at us really skeptically, and it was hilarious/endearing.

And then I looked at this (one of my favorite bloggers' Flickr stream), and now my biological clock is all TICK TICK TICK TICK TICK.

Ugh. This is my life.

How to keep newspapers alive

2008-11-03T19:59:00.004-05:00

For as long as I can remember, I've been a bathroom reader (Exhibit A: Here), and I actually used to get in trouble for stashing American Girl magazines under the clothes hamper in the old house. I would go to the bathroom when I should have been doing chores or something and just sit and read. I would also sit and read when I was doing other, normal bathroom business. My brother is also a bathroom reader, as are most of my friends. I'm pretty convinced that almost everyone I know is a bathroom reader. If you say you have never read something in the bathroom, you're lying. I just won't believe you.

Anyhow, I've realized that bathrooms are the reason print journalism will survive, despite the current situation. How did I come to this realization? Wireless Internet is a dangerous thing, friends. I was sitting on the couch reading my favorite NYT column online, but I didn't want to give it up while I ran to the bathroom. Solution? I brought my computer with me.

While this might be a little too much information for the masses, I consider it a public service announcement. So I did my thing and finished reading the column, but I have to say bathroom reading on the computer is not the same as a magazine or newspaper or book. I suppose it's all about personal taste, but the computer doesn't really do it for me. You can't just keep it in the bathroom, and if you've got to make an especially long trip, you run the risk of the battery running out. There's also the issue of making sure you set the computer down in a place that won't get wet while you wash your hands. Granted, you have that same issue with a newspaper or magazine, but those cost a few dollars max, not a couple grand.

So, newspapers and other print news outlets should market themselves as the only reading material that accompanies people to the bathroom. Maybe some people prefer the computer, but I don't think it's anything I can ever get used to.

Improvements continue...

2008-10-14T17:40:00.004-04:00

So today I got two important things: a haircut and new bedding. The hair is great (took off almost six inches — good riddance!) and the bedding is extra-great! I've been a little unhappy with my bedroom because it felt a little dark and not very cozy, but the new stuff brightened it up a little bit. If I can find a cute headboard on the cheap (I'm thinking of just painting the wall behind my bed to avoid hardware, etc.) and some kind of desk, I'll be good to go! Pictures of both:

I had to do the awkward MySpace-mirror picture I hate so much, but the kittens haven't yet figured out how to work the camera, so they couldn't take it for me. Sorry.)
My pretty new bed! The kittens are laying on it as I write this, so I take it they approve. And yes, I sleep with that bear. He will turn 22 years old this year, so we've been together a long time. Don't judge me.

His middle name is Hussein, you know

2008-10-13T16:22:00.002-04:00

The other night I was reading a wire story about how Obama and McCain are making semi-nice defending each other to the big attacks and blah blah blah. Anyway, this little gem was part of the story:

At a town-hall event Friday in Minnesota, McCain took the microphone from a woman who said Obama is an Arab. McCain said, "No, ma'am," and he called Obama "a decent, family man."

Because Arabs aren't decent family men? That's right, I forget those things. OK OK, taken out of context, maybe McCain didn't mean it to sound like that — we are, after THE LIBERAL MEDIA (dun dun dunnnnnn).

Also, I'm really having a hard time with people at work who write QCs, e-mails and the like IN ALL CAPITAL LETTERS. I DON'T LIKE FEELING LIKE I'M BEING YELLED AT FOR ASKING A QUESTION. Just sayin'.

Oh, and Jorge is recovering well from her broken toe. By recovering well, I mean she's running around with The Wild Eyes and playing with Bess. I think she faked the injury to test my love and to see if I would actually be concerned. She won.

Home improvement

2008-10-10T14:16:00.004-04:00

Ah, I finally got a rug for my living room! I still have a long way to go in there in terms of making it cozier, but the rug helps. The kittens seem to enjoy it too, since they were all over it as soon as I laid it down. Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-check it out:

I'm not anti-life, for goodness' sake

2008-09-22T20:39:00.003-04:00

This is an interesting little collection of letters to the editor in NYT from Catholics regarding abortion as a political issue. Letters: Abortion — One Issue or the Issue?

Really, I was kind of surprised by what I read. Pleasantly surprised, for the most part. That's all.

Because this should not be confined only to my Twitter

2008-09-17T18:33:00.002-04:00

I'm a magician, Spencer, a FURIOUS magician.

Ben Bernanke.

This is one of those things that you'll either love or hate. Me? I sat at my desk choking on my laughter and plan to quote this for at least the next year and a half.

There's no place like home

2008-09-15T15:13:00.002-04:00

Lately, I've been really missing Tennessee. I want to go to Nashville more than I want to breathe, and I really miss mountains and, well, I just miss land that isn't flat. I get great gas mileage here, but sometimes I miss having to gear down to make it up a hill. Also, Florida isn't as fully Southern as East TN. Or so I thought.

Jacksonville is close enough to Georgia that we get our share of rednecks, hillbillies and people who speak in terms I can understand. Today, I had to drive out to the ghetto because that's where the nearest Comcast store is located, and on my way out there, I passed a road called Confederate Point. All of a sudden, it was like I was home.

Another good story to do with home (my home here, not so much the ones in Tennessee): I locked myself out of my building last night. I keep three hooks on my living room wall on which I hang my keys, purse, etc., and when I came in I hung up my keys and not my purse. Then when I left, I grabbed my purse from the couch, locked my door on the knob (requiring no key) and went to my car. As soon as I got to my car, I realized I had no keys, and even though I tried, I couldn't break into my apartment or pick the lock. Part of me is glad that I couldn't just push my door open because it doesn't look very secure, but I would have broken the frame and probably the door if I'd gone that route. Comforting. Long story short, my landlord was out of town, but his business partner (whom I'd never met until last night) had keys and came to let me in. Good. I'm getting copies made of my keys ASAP, though, and giving them to Pat or Stef or someone reliable.

Additionally, I had to drive to the Comcast store earlier to get a new power cord for my modem. Why? Because my cats chewed through the other one. I'm surprised I didn't end up with fried kitten at some point, but thankfully I did not. Now if only I can get them to stop snoring, we'll be golden.

Well that explains it

2008-08-12T11:10:00.004-04:00

I just took this test for autism and scored a 37. According to the score page, most people with Asperger Syndrome or high functioning autism score about a 35. Hm.

I know that a test from Newsweek doesn't mean I have autism (I mean, I'm 22 years old. Wouldn't someone have caught on by now?), but I AM pretty curious how it's determined. It's possibly very wrong or has just explained my whole life.

But sometimes people just memorize stuff and get uncomfortable in social situations. I guess.

Edit: In what I assume was an effort of consolation, my brother said people with Asperger make me "look like that perky chick that's on TV with Regis." Awww.

Addendum to previous post

2008-08-10T19:59:00.004-04:00

A woman is sitting at a table near me talking to a dude about various topics. Here are a few of the things I've heard about this evening and a summary of her comments in parentheses:

Coffee (it gives her the shits, but she likes Frappucinos)
Faking orgasms (she used to with some guy and he TOTALLY realized it)
Asian porn (it's weird; Asian women look funny)
Pornography in general (the women scream like they're getting killed; she doesn't have it in her to scream like that even if it's good)
Pulling hair during sex (there's an art to it [dude chimes in: you've got to twist it around] so that it doesn't really hurt)

I can't keep doing this because I'm really getting upset. I need to go home. And hang out with my cats. BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT NORMAL PEOPLE DO.

(As I was getting ready to post this, the conversation took a horrible, horrible turn that I shan't disclose here because writing makes it too real, but suffice to say this whole talk made me a little bit glad that I'm single.)

UPDATE: OH MY GOD THEY'RE TALKING ABOUT CRAIGSLIST CASUAL ENCOUNTERS SECTION AND HOW THEY'VE RESPONDED TO ADS ON THERE OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD I BET THAT IS HOW THEY MET

Oh, Sbux

2008-08-10T18:37:00.003-04:00

People (not baristas, mind you) at Five Points Starbucks are friendlier even than people in Nashville, and that's tough. But it's an odd friendly, like a please-stop-talking-to-me-I-am-clearly-preoccupied-making-fun-of-
you-in-my-blog kind of friendly. Dude is sitting next to me reading the T-U and New York Times and asking me, "Did you hear about [fill in the blank]?"

I WORK AT A NEWSPAPER YES I PROMISE I HEARD ABOUT IT.

Also, I feel a little funny not preparing to go back to Nashville/VU. Now's about the time I'd be peacing out of Tuesday Morning and spending time "packing" and "getting my stuff together," which means I'd just be spending more time laying on the couch with Kenny and letting my mom feed me.

In other news, I'm getting a neighbor tomorrow and a new stove within a couple weeks, according to my landlord. Hooray! Four fully functional units I can cook on!

Also, I went to the beach this afternoon with Deirdre, et al. The sun wasn't terribly strong, but I laid on my stomach most of the time and the backs of my legs got burned. So I quite literally have a hot ass. Not comfortable, I'm afraid.

Because, yeah, I'll cry in public

2008-08-08T12:28:00.002-04:00

The authorities had discovered the rarest and most pitiable of creatures: a feral child.

I found this story linked through Dooce, and sat in my little corner of Starbucks last crying like a fool. Please read it at some point, but maybe wait until the end of the day or something because this is not a story that will necessarily make you happy.

On the completely different topic of newspapers and the Internet (one we all know I am quite fond of), this is one of the dumbest ideas I've heard in a long time. (Linked from Romensko.) I mean, really? Thank heavens the T-U is into Web (mostly), but I can pick out a few people who would think the Inquirer made a brilliant move. Good grief.

Easily annoyed

2008-08-01T13:03:00.002-04:00

What's worse than a girl in too-tight pants that give her a uni-butt and muffin tops? A man in too-tight pants that give him a uni-butt and muffin tops.

Gross.

This guy at Starbucks is probably wearing a 28 pair of pants when he should really be in a 34. I'm upset.

This is genius

2008-07-30T18:14:00.002-04:00

Best cover I've heard of any song in a very very long time. (Courtesy of my friend in SF, who I think prefers anonymity.)

Pat calls her 'Shitty Kitty'

2008-07-30T10:17:00.005-04:00

He also calls her "Jorge Georgio," but that's another story.

She hasn't slept in here for the last couple days, so she might be over whatever it was that was making her do it. I'm still wary of letting her sleep on my pillow, but sooner or later I'll forget she doesn't mind sleeping in her own shit and she'll be back in her spot.

Tweet tweet

2008-07-29T11:53:00.003-04:00

A number of my work friends Twitter, so like the sheep that I am, I jumped on the bandwagon. I joined more to follow my friends than to update people on the things I do because frankly I don't do anything. I may Twitter my Scrabble victories, but other than that I've got nothing spectacular going on.

That's a lie. I do. Or my cat does. Anyway.

So a couple weeks after I moved to J'ville, I adopted two precious little kitties — Bess and George — from the Jacksonville Humane Society, and we've gotten along fabulously. They can be little shits sometimes (like kids!) but they're also darn cute and really sweet (unlike kids).

They both have their own little quirks and weird things, but they're mostly endearing. Except this new behavior from George where she sleeps in her litter box. In. The. Litter. Box. On her and Bess' poop. It's slightly cute but mostly gross.

I did some Googling yesterday, and all the discussion boards suggest three things:

1. She feels most secure in her litter box because she's been spooked by something or feels threatened by another cat. I don't think this is the case because it's brand new behavior and she and Bess are sisters and have always seemed to get along well.

2. A lot of shelter cats slept in their litter boxes because it's the softest place in their cage. I just switched litter, so the new stuff might be similar to what they used at the Humane Society and she just feels like it's more homey. A very likely explanation.

3. She's sick. Some cats will indicate that they don't feel well by just hanging out at the litter box all the time, whether they're actually using it or not. She seems to be using it normally and isn't feverish or anything, so this is possible but not likely. I should take her to the vet but can't afford it. Donations?

So yeah, anyone know any cat-behavior experts? I could use some help, here.

It's a missed connection, a canceled show

2008-07-23T16:58:00.002-04:00

Something I do when I have unfettered Internet access and plenty of free time is read Craigslist. I know, that makes me slightly uncool, but the "best of" makes me laugh more often than not, and sometimes I like to shop real estate or look for jobs in more politically progressive cities. But one of my favorite things is reading the "missed connections" section.

I didn't think lots of others did it, but my friend admitted to doing it so I don't feel so alone anymore. Now, I don't read them because I hope against hope that some strapping young man missed a connection with me. They're thoroughly entertaining, though, because someone is always a "vision," particularly if she is the leggy blonde with whom Mr. Connectionless made eye contact as she brushed past him in the cereal aisle of the grocery store. Mr. Connectionless wants to know what color her T-shirt was and what kind of cereal she was reaching for when The Moment happened, you know, just so he can make sure it's actually Ms. Wheaties and not some wacko who thinks he's actually her man.

I also get a chuckle when they're asking for a specific person. The headline is often something to the tune of "Looking for KELLY SMITH. where are you? i miss you?" and the poor girl is, like, the customer service specialist he spoke to when calling to inquire about one of his credit cards. Her voice was angelic. There was something, but he was afraid to act on it.

Actually though, I think it's all in vain. What are the odds that Ms. Wheaties will actually think, "Oh, who was that stunning single man who was trying to decide between name brand and generic raisin bran? Why didn't I talk to him? [Pause as she brightens, realizing there is hope.] Maybe he went looking for me on Craigslist! WHERE IS A COMPUTER?"

I think Mr. Connectionless creates this post in a desperate hope that some lame, single female (do not judge) reads these for giggles, sees his ad and instantly wants to have his children. That seems like greater motivation than actually finding Ms. Wheaties or KELLY SMITH.

I would like to find some statistics on the success of missed connections with the people who actually missed the connection, not the people who wished someone would a miss a connection with them. To be totally honest, it is kind of precious that Mr. Connectionless does this. Maybe he just didn't have the nerve to make a move when it would have mattered, you know? But really, I can't say I would be inspired to go get coffee or have dinner (or any other number of "dates" they suggest) with someone who used Craigslist's missed connections as the way to find me. I think I'd be really creeped out if some stranger tried to find me, period, but that's a different story.

Maybe I would sing a different tune if that actually did happen, but I'm just going to hope and assume it's not.

The great wall of ... idiocy

2008-06-30T18:18:00.004-04:00

This weekend I stopped by Publix to get some cat food and other sundries, and while I waited in the line to check out, I noticed that the new issue of Time was out, so I picked up a copy. The main headline was "The Great Wall of America," and the story was about the wall going up between Mexico and the U.S., something I've been following for a while.

I put all my stuff, including the magazine, down to be scanned, and the check-out was doing her thing, when she picked up the magazine and exclaims, "America has a great wall? What?!" At first I thought she was kidding — people joke about things like this, I suppose. But she kept going with it, and then the girl who was bagging pulls the magazine out of the bag she just put it in and goes, "I thought only China had a great wall! What are they talking about?"

At this point I felt like it was only fair for me to intervene, so I told them the story was about the wall between Mexico and the U.S., and they looked at me in utter disbelief. They didn't seem to know that, yes, a wall/fence/barrier of some sort is being constructed in order to "reduce" illegal immigration.

Check-out girl laughed a puzzled little laugh, and bagger girl says, "Can't they just hop the fence? They think nobody's going to climb that wall? People's crazy and they'll climb anything!"

At that point I'd paid and attempted to gather up my stuff, but they were STILL carrying on, so I just stood there for a minute then said I had to go and walked away.

This is just so blatantly idiotic I don't even need to make fun of it. It takes care of itself.

Guns don't kill people; yes they do.

2008-04-21T09:59:00.004-04:00

This week, some students at the University Tennessee will wear empty gun holsters to protest the laws and campus policies that prohibit the university community from carrying handguns on campus. Even if someone has a concealed handgun carry license, he or she still may not bring the weapon on a school campus.

Some students want to be permitted to carry a handgun as a form of self-defense, and "the only time you're authorized to shoot is when someone is attacking you," Nathan Robinson, a UT senior, told the Knoxville News-Sentinel.

Poetic.

Guns are just a bad idea on college campuses in so many ways.

Students are young and thus pretty irresponsible. So are most non-students, yes, but if thousands of foolish, brash 20-somethings can be prevented from carrying weapons, then I think they should be.

Put those guns in the context of any number of campus parties that take place on a weekend. At any given point on a Thursday, Friday or Saturday night, hundreds of students can be crammed into a fraternity house, a bar, a dorm — what happens if someone get belligerent and whips out a gun? What if someone's gun goes off accidentally? What if someone's gun gets stolen without them noticing?

If we lived in an ideal world, maybe concealed carry would be OK. But we don't live in an ideal world. College campuses are rife with drugs and violence, whether anyone wants to admit that. Add guns to the mix, and that's a scary climate. People get drunk all the time, people smoke or do other drugs; who's to say they're not going to get completely trashed, lose most/all/some sense of good judgment and shoot someone for the hell of it? What about petty bar fights? Or arguments that may not be very serious but could escalate quickly if someone pulled out a gun?

But then there's the other side: Would those 25 (reported) rapes on Tennessee campuses have occurred if the women had guns? (Would they have become more violent if the perpetrator did too?) Would killing sprees like the one at Virginia Tech be headed off if a student or professor could shoot an aggressor in self-defense or to protect others? Would robberies continue to decrease if people knew there was a greater threat to them for stealing something?

It's really naive and presumptuous, Mr. Robinson, to say that you're only authorized to shoot when someone is attacking you. That would never happen. It doesn't happen in the real world; why would college campuses be any different? Carrying guns won't add to campus safety; it would just make people more wary and on edge.

Vanderbilt has about 6,000 undergraduate students. If just half of them chose to carry handguns, that's 3,000 deadly weapons in the hands of irresponsible young adults in a very, very small area. Add to those numbers graduate students, faculty and staff, and the concentration of weapons would be pretty scary.

Allowing members of campus communities to carry guns just doesn't seem like it would reduce the risk of violent crime, theft, anything. If anything, it seems to me that it would increase an atmosphere of discomfort and just heighten distrust among students. The laws keeping guns off campus are there for a reason, anyhow.

Link-o-rama. Uh, sort of.

2008-04-06T13:09:00.000-04:00

First things first (and this is long overdue), The New York Times last weekend had two articles on things near and dear to my heart.

One is about blogging and the potential benefits of that. Cough cough someonewhowantstogiveoutabookdealpleasetakenoticeofme cough cough. O.K., so maybe I'm not ready for a book deal. Give me a few years. But hey, if anyone sees this and wants to give me a job, that'd be just as good.

The other is about judging someone's date-worthiness based on his/her bookshelf. It's amazingly true. I love books, and reading is one of my favorite things in the world. If I can't talk about a book or an author with someone, I'm bored. They don't have to necessarily share my tastes to a T, but at least know who some of the literary greats are. Most of the names on my shelf aren't that obscure; some googling will tell you most of what you need to know. But really, I don't think I could ever be serious with someone who doesn't read. Or at least doesn't read books of substance. Yes yes, we all have different definitions of a "substantial" book, but anything labeled "Sci-Fi" or "Fantasy" doesn't fall under that umbrella for me. Then again, the people I know who read sci-fi or fantasy novels are prooooooobably not the kind of folks I'd date.

Pretentious, yes?

Another link that is less entertaining and not Times-related: Life Before Death. It's a series of photographs by German photog Walter Schels; he shot people while they were alive but in their final days and then again after they died. Each photo has a little blurb about the person, and most of them have cancer or another disease. It's pretty powerful, albeit a little morbid.

And to end on a happy note, please visit Hope is Emo (courtesy of E. Cofer). I thought it might be real, but it's not. Regardless, it's pretty damn funny. I wish it was more current and still happening, but good things never last. Hope would say that.

Nice guys don't get paid.

2008-02-17T00:58:00.003-05:00

In the spirit of Valentine's Day (everyone's favorite day!), I'd just like to say something that I've thought for a very long time: Nice guys don't finish last.

They don't. Contrary to the Green Day song, nice guys are actually highly sought after and rather nice to keep around. The problem is, guys who classify themselves as "nice guys" often are not. Per my observations, I've found them to be whiny saps.

The guys who all say "nice guys finish last, girls want a guy who's going to treat her like crap, girls need a chase and I just can't do that" blah blah blah tend to be wimps. Wimps are bad. Nice guys are good.

And if anyone is going be whining in a relationship, it's going to be me, capiche?

I've been whining a considerable amount in recent days since The Day of My Noose was Thursday, so I've tried to find people who will share in my misery. I can count on a few fellows I know to at least hate the day with me, but a couple really boo-hooed (not literally; there were no actual tears) about how they're great and they wanted a Valentine and they know girls who didn't get anything from the guys they're dating and that's not OK and they would treat a girl so well but they're too nice and they can never get anywhere, etc etc.

Please.

You think you're too nice? No such thing. Too whiny? Ding! I can't speak for all the other girls I know, but I don't want somebody to fall all over themselves for me. It's nice that the potential is there, believe me, but please don't actually do it.

And that whole "girls just want a guy who makes them work for attention" thing is a load of crap as well. I'll admit, a little hard-to-get is OK, but there's a line between "hard to get" and "please don't get me at all." Sometimes that line is hard to recognize, especially when a girl doesn't want to see it. But it's there and if a girl willingly ignores it, well, that's just something you handle on a case-by-case basis. But girls generally don't go seeking out guys who will run away from them unless they have issues (points at self).

But a chase is preferable to having everything you could ever want dropped in your lap (although there's a point where that starts to shift; I think I'm reaching it).

I don't guess I know how exactly to define a "nice" guy, but he's not whiny. And he's not a pushover. It varies per person, those characteristics are not positive attributes.

Let's shift subjects, shall we? Onto the stream-of-consciousness part of the post you might actually read:

Spring break is in two weeks. Everything for ASB is in order. I am beyond excited for my site and my girls.

Today there was a guy sitting outside Starbucks asking people for money, etc. One guy brought him inside, bought him coffee and a pastry, then sat with him for a while outside and talked to him. I stared half the time because I was so happy that people like that really do exist and also because I couldn't help but wonder if I'm big enough to do the same thing. I'm not. He came back in later and asked for a refill on his coffee, and whoever was working said they didn't do free refills, even though the barista that had left not long ago said she'd refill it for him. So he went back outside, where he stayed for about 15 minutes before leaving. I could have bought him coffee or said that Jami told him she'd refill for him, but I didn't. I thought about it. I don't know why I didn't, and I'm really mad at myself for not doing anything. I feel like a hypocrite sometimes because I'm in all these service organizations and I'll volunteer my life away, but I can't just buy some guy more coffee? Rarely am I disappointed in myself, but this time I am.

I wrote a story today. It was short and not my best, but I haven't written fiction in a few months. Before you ask, no, you may not read it. I feel better about my writing than I did a year ago, but that doesn't mean I want to share it. If I ever let someone read my stories, I'll probably marry them.

Speaking of getting married, WE is showing marathons of all my favorite bridal shows. I just watched "My Big Fat Fabulous Wedding," and some girl spent ... wait for it ... wait for it ... $775,000 OF HER NEW HUSBAND'S (who is about 50; she's like 20 I think) MONEY on the wedding. Her dress was $6,500. Holy god. For one day.

I'm going to the $99 David's Bridal sale and will be happy to have a cotton candy machine at the reception.

This goes to all my athletes in the struggle

2007-12-01T02:07:00.000-05:00

In my state of doing absolutely nothing this evening, I happened across "For Love of the Game" on USA. It's a good movie because it's about sports, and it stars Kevin Costner. I don't know about you, but there is little more I could ask for from a motion picture.

I'm a sucker for any sports movie, even when the plot doesn't actually pivot on anything related to the sport in the movie.
Most sports movies make me cry too. I don't know why, but they're often terribly dramatic. Regardless, I'll watch them all day long.

On that note, I give you my favorite sports movies of all time. (Note: I didn't say best sports movies of all time. I said favorite. This has nothing to do with actual quality.)

10. "A League of Their Own"
9. "Coach Carter"
8. "Angels in the Outfield"
7. "Cool Runnings"
6. "For Love of the Game"
5. "Little Big League"
4. "Remember the Titans"
3. "The Sandlot"
2. "Little Giants"
1. "Love and Basketball"

Honorable mentions: "Air Bud," "Rookie of the Year"
Now take a minute to catch your breath after laughing at me.

Rock and roll razorblade

2007-09-11T15:52:00.000-04:00

Last night, all of my middle-school dreams came true. I saw Hanson play live.

It was special because I love them and have loved them for many moons, but the evening was also very special because yesterday marked, to the day, the 10-year anniversary of the release of "MMMBop." So they performed it acoustically. It was beautiful. Taylor "Oh, yeah!"-ed the night away, and I screamed like I was on a roller coaster for three hours. Wouldn't you scream too if you saw this?

But really, they rocked. They didn't play all that much from "Middle of Nowhere" and instead played a good chunk of their new album and "Underneath." It made me very happy. They did, however, play "Yearbook," which they have NEVER played live until last night. I almost cried when Taylor sang about Johnny and "turning to that paaaAAAGE"!

So many people have made fun of me for being so excited, but Hanson were so good! They aren't the 12-year-olds everyone still wants them to be. However, there were very few people there under the age of 17. And that's pushing it. But the beauty of the show was that the fans and Hanson have grown together. Their new stuff wouldn't appeal to my 11-year-old self, but their new stuff definitely does. So does the way they look.

Even Isaac has gotten cute. He's really grown into his features.

All in all, it was a magical evening. Carly came too because she might be their biggest fan. I'm pretty sure we both teared up at least twice. It was like Christmas but better.

It's skank-tastic.

2007-09-06T01:29:00.000-04:00

I have said at least once before that MySpace bothers me just a wee bit because it's a beautiful forum for skankiness. People can do or say whatever they please because, hey, everyone else is doing it.

Girls can take the MySpace-mirror picture of themselves in their underwear or shorts that say "Bootylicious" (or something else equally dumb) on the ass; boys can ... well, they can do exactly the same thing. BECAUSE THEY DO. I HAVE SEEN THIS AND I DO NOT LIKE IT. Then they can write a clever, obviously original little caption that says something along the lines of "lOoK bUtT dOn'T tOuCh!!!!!!1111!1!1!!!!!" Again, I have seen it with mine own eyes.

However, there's a line between being a dumb ho and being a Dumb Ho. Perhaps that is harsh. Hm. Good.

Yesterday when I logged in, I looked at the bulletins section because I'm a sucker for some quality time-wasting surveys. What I saw was not something that appeals to me at all.

Yep, you read that right. Subject: Fuck Buddies (and ::Fuck Buddies:: — I would hate to not give credit for that clever use of a PUNCTUATION MARK). Twice. This particular bulletin was posted by two different people. I hope to Jesus in Heaven that the second was not in response to the first. Oh please oh please no.

The full text of said bulletin is as follows:

For a laugh...or serious up to you!
Statistically speaking, unless you are a total hermit, social retard, or ugly as a bag of spoiled ass... There's at least one person on your myspace that wants to date you or sleep with you. So..... lets play "FUCK BUDDIES"
The rules are simple... if you want to date the person who posted this, send them a message to their inbox saying "Im yours".
If you just want to sleep with them and stay friends, send them a message that says "I'd hit it".
SCARED? You pussy, just do it!
THE TWIST IS YOU HAVE TO REPOST THIS, EVEN IF YOU'RE TAKEN
& see who replies. There is at least 1 person on your myspace that wants to date you, and maybe more that want to sleep with you.
SO... re-post as "FUCK BUDDIES", as it doesn't matter if your married, in a relationship,single, gay or straight! You opened it so you HAVE to repost

Uh ... well, I opened it, obviously, but I only wanted to make fun of it. But I mean, if there are any takers...

NOT REALLY.

But seriously? Isn't this what one might call "solicitation"? I think so, but then again I suppose my take on this is a tad skewed since I'm marginally disturbed by the whole thing.

Part of me badly wants these people to read my blog and be offended, but then the smart side of me comes in and reminds the mean, funny part of me that they aren't going to read my blog. If those bulletins were successful, they're going to be pretty busy for a while.

I won't get too specific with any other complaints other than the creative punctuator (::::::::) posts no less than seven bulletins daily (what? I get on MySpace a lot! I have to avoid homework somehow.), and most of them say something like "OMG im so bored. someone post something to give me something to do. why arent any of you on line?"

Snack on that for a minute. I don't even need to make fun of it because it pretty much takes care of itself.

I think the question is: WHY ARE YOU SO LAME? I sort of feel bad because I was pretty good friends with this person in high school, but hey we're not in high school anymore, are we?

There are days when I utterly loathe my life and can safely say in some moments I am the lamest person alive, but in terms of overall lameness, I've got nothing on some of the people I know. Oh well. I can't be the first at everything.

I also forgot to mention that I have hives again. I have run out of medicine and don't have time to drive to Kroger. My life sucks right now.

Hard work never killed anyone

2007-08-26T19:55:00.000-04:00

No, I will not complete Ronald Reagan's quote. This is a tasteful Web site, and I shan't corrupt it with Republican musings.

Let me get this out of the way: I AM A LAZY PERSON. I think we all know this, but I just wanted to re-affirm in case there were questions. I will avoid doing something important if it involves moving too much. Sloth is one of my favorite deadly sins (second only to gluttony).

However, I am not so lazy that I cannot walk up a single flight of stairs. Apparently some people are.

I just returned from the Rec and was in the elevator going to the 13th floor, and it stopped on the ninth floor. A girl and a boy got in then PUSHED THE BUTTON FOR 10.

Honestly? People, we're in college. Not a nursing home. I will give people the benefit of the doubt and think maybe they have a knee problem or a serious cardiac issue where if their heart rate varies ever so slightly they will die a painful death.

No one likes the stairs in Towers because they're a little sketchy, but seriously it is not too difficult to walk all the way up the 12 steps to the next floor. It's more time-consuming to wait for the elevator anyhow.

I have some extremely fierce eye daggers that are strong enough to pierce one's skull, but they reserved only for times when people really REALLY annoy me, or when I hear a child's voice in a volume louder than silent.

People who use the elevator to go up/down a single floor get these eye daggers. Alas, most people are too dense for this look to be truly effective, but I like to know I've made an effort.

Losing you's a sure way to set off my allergies

2007-08-14T21:13:00.000-04:00

Yeah, so is having allergens shot right into my arm.

Today, I went to the ASAP clinic to get re-tested for allergies and other things in hopes of determining why I have so many sinus problems. I was last tested during my freshman or sophomore year of high school, and none of my allergies were severe or even moderate. The tests for dust, mold, mildew and grass were positive, but those are super-common and easily treated. I was put on a mild antihistamine and sent on my way.

Well, instead of becoming a NORMAL HUMAN BEING and growing out of my allergies, I've grown into them, and they're become pretty severe in the last year or so. During the fall and early spring — my worst allergy seasons — I get several sinus infections and can barely do anything between the massive itching that's going on and the fact that I'm getting too little oxygen.

During one of my many trips to Student Health this past April, I actually got to see a real doctor instead of a nurse practitioner, and she said I may have more serious problems than just allergies and recommended I go to ASAP for tests. It was the end of the school year: I had finals and other things to worry about, like what I was going to do with my life, so I just put it off. Of course I got sick again this summer and made yet another visit to Student Health, where I was quickly referred to ASAP for testing.

That testing finally happened today, after five loooooong days of not taking my beloved Zyrtec. I made it through the first two okay, with a little congestion and itchy eyes. By Saturday, however, I had urticaria, commonly known as hives (NOTE: That is not a picture of mine. They weren't quite that severe, and they were on my back and arms, but that gives you a good idea of how much I resembled a leper.) If you've never had hives, I hope you never do. Unless I don't like you.

Anyhow, they were not as I'd imagined they would be; they were just big clusters of mosquito bite-looking bumps that ITCHED. And scratching only makes them worse, FYI. Occasionally, I gave in and scratched and damn it felt good, but that just made them stick around longer. Luckily, I don't have severe ones, and they come and go rather quickly (the longest any stayed at one time was about an hour). Pretty much the only thing that made them not itch was, well, okay nothing. Bathing helped some, so did copious amounts of hydrocortisone, but last night I got in bed and cried for an hour because I itched beyond belief and there was nothing I could do about it.

So, after that misery, I "agreed," as my doctor kept saying, to let a nurse inject 15 different allergens under my skin to see what my reaction would be. These were just common allergens, such as grass, mold and various trees. Right away, the spot for dust got really red and swollen and ITCHY, and so did the ones for mold and some tree mix. There was another dot that was nearly as bad as the one for dust, but I didn't see the reference sheet in time to know what it would be.

Fifteen long minutes later, the nurse washes off my arm and makes some notes, and then announces to what I am allergic: mild reactions to grass and mold, moderate reaction to mildew and the tree mix, severe reactions to dust and (get this) COCKROACH.

BARF BARF BARF. I am allergic to cockroaches. That was the mystery allergen I didn't see in time on the sheet. I looked at the nurse incredulously and asked how I can be allergic to cockroaches; they don't bite or anything, so it's not the same as being allergic to bees or other insects. What contact do I have with cockroaches?

Well my friends, we as humans INHALE COCKROACH DROPPINGS, and some people (e.g., me) have an adverse reaction to it. I seriously almost puked all over the poor woman's desk. I was extremely grossed out by this revelation — I, who will clean the stuff out of a kitchen drain with my bare hand, which I have come to believe is the standard by which a person's gross-out threshold can be measured. Grooooooooossssssssssss.

The nurse told me it's pretty uncommon to be allergic to cockroaches. Well, yippee, look at me being a minority! They should put my name on a plaque somewhere for having to acknowledge that there is cockroach poop somewhere inside my body and it's making me sick. I have weird allergies: cockroach, bananas, nasal spray for allergies (Hey, Alanis, want irony? Are you allergic to allergy medicine?).

My parents produced a freak of nature. George doesn't have bad/freakish allergies; how did I get so screwed? I've decided that I'm allergic to everything that can be inhaled except for oxygen (and even that is probably questionable). Randy Travis is the singer of the song that is my title; maybe this will give him some new inspiration.

And for your viewing pleasure:
Those are my 15 dots of hell. They look worse now than they did when I was actually at ASAP, so that probably means I'm deathly allergic to something there that they weren't able to catch. At the same time, this picture doesn't do the cockroach spot a bit of justice.

Fifteen is lookin' for some answers

2007-07-22T18:00:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago, my friend Chris told me someone asked him if he could make a mix of the 15 songs that mean most to him and probably always will, and then he asked me if I thought I could do it too. Right away I said yeah, of course, but after I really thought about it, um, no, it was hard. A few songs came immediately, but the others took quite a lot of thought. I made a list of all the ones that I thought could make it; after a great deal of thinking and weeding out, my original list of about 100 became 30, and I think I spent about an hour narrowing those to 20, then to 15. The last five get at least honorable mentions because they would have made it if the challenge had been for 20. And now what you've all (all none of you) have been waiting for:

1. You Are the Everything — REM
2. Sunflowers — Everclear
3. Chealsea Hotel No. 2 — Leonard Cohen
4. Last Goodbye — Jeff Buckley
5. What If We Give It Away? — REM
6. Man Over — Robinella and the CC Stringband
7. Tame — Cory Branan
8. Father Rose — Pete Francis
9. Untouchable Face — Ani Difranco
10. These Are the Days — 10,000 Maniacs
11. Love at the Five and Dime — Nanci Griffith
12. Colorado Bound — Townes van Zandt
13. Work — Jimmy Eat World
14. Coming Up Roses — Elliott Smith
15. Big Yellow Taxi — Joni Mitchell

And the runners-up, in no particular order:

Looking at the Sun — Matthew Sweet
E-Bow the Letter – REM
John Walker's Blues — Steve Earle
You Wreck Me — Tom Petty
Solsbury Hill — Peter Gabriel

So there you have it. All of them have their reasons for being on this list; whether or not I tell you those reasons is another matter. Criticize/compliment as you will.

2007-06-28T21:42:00.000-04:00

During a conversation with a friend not long ago, I made a few realizations about the opposite sex, musicians in particular. I then wrote some of this down (I've elaborated a bit more here) because I personally think it's dead-on accurate. Some of you might disagree, and I understand that. Regardless, at the request of a one Chris Milam, I've blogged this for the world. I have some very specific examples to back up my claims, but I won't include them, as I do respect anonymity. However, if you know me (or you are one of these people), then you can probably guess them easily.

Based on my EXTENSIVE experience, I have determined there exists three basic types of male musicians. This does apply to the non-musical to some degree, but I don't have enough specifics for that. Moving along. The three types are as follows: the wannabe emo, the wannabe douchebag and the wannabe badass.

WANNBE EMO
Boo hoo. The girl you were dating broke your heart. Okay, that gives you some material. Prior to that? Nothing. This kind of musician plays the martyr, the poor sad boy, the good guy who just can't win. Garbage. This musician actually tends to be a jerk. A marginally talented jerk, but a jerk none the less. This poor fellow is just SO tortured and sad and broken that he can't maintain a functioning relationship with any girl because he has too many scars. He's very very busy feeling sorry his poor self. His goal in life is to be totally awesome and rad like Chris Carrabba/Dashboard Confessional. Oh man. However, emo is sort of over as a genre (except maybe with 17-year-old girls with black MySpace pages, but that's a whole other point), so the poor lad doesn't have anywhere to channel his sensitive and broken feelings. He decides to give up his craft. Whatever, but is that the smartest choice? Absolutely not, but it IS melodramatic and he needs sympathy; this way, people will tell him how great he is and how "hott" he is with that guitar. He'll write a song about it — a song about how no one listens to his songs. Hm.

This boy is (and I sort of hate to say it) a waste of talent. He has a great deal of potential, but he refuses to get truly deep and write about more than just the pretty girl who broke his heart. Why? Who knows. Maybe he doesn't go that deep. Or he thinks he IS going deep. He's exposing his vulnerable soul. Pardon me while I gag. Whatever the reason, he's not going in any new direction. This musician has tied himself to the ideal (is it really an ideal?) and his acoustic guitar and then gets very sad when things don't go as planned. Marginal talent is better than none at all, but, again, he's too busy tending to his perpetually broken heart to realize that maybe he ought to try something different. After all, this boy probably doesn't have TONS else going for him (at least my example doesn't). Of course, there are exceptions to every rule, but this just seems to be the trend in my case studies.

MORAL: This guy is awfully whiny. Occasionally he has a complex thought, but he's often too busy "missing her soooooooo much is hurts" to pay attention to that lonely thought. Doesn't know himself very well, but thinks he does. Very puzzling.

WANNABE DOUCHEBAG
This guy appears to be the polar opposite of poor Mr. Emo. But he's not — after all, they're both musicians, right? This guy is a closet nice guy. He just needs to give off the I'm-a-jerk-I-fuck-all-the-girls-I-want-because-I-play-the-guitar-pretty-damn-well attitude, but that's not necessarily who he is on the whole. Maybe he is a little bit. This guy is actually very nice and pays attention. Emo guy will break a heart and then write a song whining about how much he misses her. The douchebag will have his heart broken, then write a song about how he's glad the dumb ho is gone, even though he's pretty sad inside. Then he'll go get laid to make himself feel a little better, though he may regret it a bit (A BIT) in hindsight. This guy's best material is inspired by the ladies but not all of it is necessarily about them. Some big issues get disguised as girl issues, but metaphors (or similies or whatever the hell they are) are sneaky things. Oh metaphors — this guy loves them. However, he's pretty smart and has quite the way with words, so sometimes it's tough to tell if he's being literal or not. That works nicely because it helps him justify the jerk-itude.

Alas, he's a bad faker. He does possess the ability to be nice and sympathetic, and he's the farthest thing from flaky. The list can go on. So why the front/alter ego? I'd say that differs for everyone, but part of it is that the nice-guy image doesn't really mesh with the stereotypical musician image. It would ruin his credibility as a purveyor of she-did-me-wrong songs. But, unlike Mr. Emo only wishes he were, this musician isn't pushover-nice. He's just nice. How frustrating that must be. He's choosy about to whom he's genuinely nice and to whome he's nice because he's wants to get some. The rest of the time he's busy giving himself how-to-be-an-asshole pep talks so he doesn't ruin the persona.

MORAL: He's nice but fronts ass. Great potential for dishonesty, but also great potential for the opposite. Maybe doesn't know himself very well. Very puzzling as well.

WANNABE BADASS
This musician is nearly legit but not quite. He's a regular guy most of the time, but he's in musician mode, he is too cool for school. This one is also a musical elitist, and if there's something he doesn't like very much then OBVIOUSLY it sucks and no one should waste their time on it. His music sounds really similar to that which he listens to, but it's not all the same. Just almost. It's not bad or anything, just sort of indistinguishable from some of the other lyric-less songs. Instrumentals work better than songs with lyrics for this dude because it's pretty difficult to write about being a douchebag and MEANING it.

Besides, some of the things he has for writing about just seem too shallow for his ideas. To the average person, they' re probably pretty good, but he thinks nothing of them. Rarely does he say what he means in his songs — like Douchebag, he speaks (sings) in metaphors — but in real life he does. Sometimes. But he's mostly just a jerk. In musician-mode, he's an aloof ass and plays what he thinks is the proper role of a musician. He's sort of like Douchebag, except he's quite nearly the same person in both instances.

MORAL: He's a jerk who fronts to be a bigger jerk but is occasionally kind-hearted. Maybe doesn't know himself all that well either.

-----

Common thread? The way people perceive these dudes is somewhat different than they way they want to be perceived or the way they think they're being perceived. Indeed, exceptions to the rule do exist, and sometimes there are people who legitimately fit into each of these categories because they are truly whiny or jerks. Of course, there are people who span the categories and people who don't fit neatly into any of them. I don't know if either of those are preferable, but if that's who you are then that's who you are.

What I can't quite put my finger on is why this applies so well to musicians but not quite non-musicians. I've considered it at some length (hey, I have to think about something when I'm in class), but I just haven't been able to nail it down. I can't say with certainty that all these are true, but I feel rather confident in the them. I welcome your thoughts, and if you recognize yourself in any of these, um, I'm sorry? They are but my opinions.