I'll just have Water, Thanks.

good morning. nothing of note to report. there was a brief scare just now that they perhaps wanted us to take a couple of days off but luckily they want us here and not working, so there was a sigh of relief around the office, bcs despite the allure of a couple days off, no one wanted the cut in pay which even now isn't THAT much. looking at my finances last night, which is always a bad idea- made me wonder if the job will last till the end of september... or what if it doesn't- and if i really should have bought those 2 pairs of pants. and i wonder why i slept strangely or didn't wake up to go swimming this morning. why in my right mind would i question all of this before going to bed... possible self torture. i squirm in my seat at the thought- taking care to tuck my new skirt nicely around me and smooth my newly dyed and cut hair, sipping my $4 frappachino... it's going to take a long time to pay off all my debt- why did i even go down this road- its best not to think about it. so down down down it goes. far away from sight.

Currently listening to: "i want to be jackie onassis"...

Bonus! (2)

man, i can't shake that gross, i've been thinking about the past feeling. it's like a coat of slime over my arms. i don't get it. i don't know why its there and i'd rather not think about it ever again. but whatever. hopefully it'll get better. and dammit- it's bagel friday again. just like that-

otherwise all is well- i'm feeling pretty positive- i had a quarter of a bagel, am eating carrots. took an orange for later... my parents are gone for the weekend. i feel like a lithe 21 yr old again. but am sadly disappointed for my lack of foresight in planning a party- which i have not done. and thus passes my only opp to throw a party this summer- it is perhaps best this way as throwing parties stretches my hermit status to socialite and really i never trust that people will come thru and have a good time. invariably they do but i'm always left with that tinge of doubt. sort of like entering that art fair. mainly it's a fantastic idea. but doing the unknown is slightly terrifying and i hate that. as simple as it is.

current internet research: neurotic dogs
currently listening to: talk radio online
currently drinking: water...

Bonus! (you found me)

from time to time i bury posts- don't go on a treasure hunt though, few and far btw. maybe it's bcs i don't want anyone to read it but vainly want someone, someday to read it for posterity- or something like that. i don't know. i'm bored at work- i need protein. i've put my head phones on and am listening to kroq. i'm not working. i just went on mys/pace. looking at past friends and looking at their friends who used to be my friends and are no longer and seeing what they're doing with their lives. slightly irksome. but at least they're not dead. i am glad of that. i guess. but then somehow having excavated myself thru name after name, slight histories and escapades, i have that emotional chill on the back of my neck and my arms are tired- sort of needing to shake it off and exctricate myself from the past- and then realizing i still don't know what to think about a lot of things that've happened recently. its like knowing you've dealt with your "past" but then realizing the past is always stock piling, and maybe this last 7 years i've dealt with very little... and then thinking well how can you... but then, why wouldn't you. to trivialize it seems dangerous, but anything more seems to exaggerate it- it is as a blip upon a map of your life and yet there it is still, blinking quietly at you in some room you never oft enter.

BAGEL FRIDAY!

oh my goodness, ya'll. it's bagel friday. i haven't had a genuine and consistent bagel friday since that time i worked for the r/r r/w folk back in jan-march of 0-5. of course bagels are from the devil, especially fresh ones from Noah's. with 6 different spreads- and those tasty chocolate chip bagels and then those ones with blueberries or the ones covered in cinnamon and sugar- i stared at them long and hard and cut one in half. i vow by next week i will only take a quarter- and the next week i'll be off the wicked bagels forever- you will not rule me! you will not cause my insulin levels to spike then crash, you will not add fruitless calories to my intake- you will be defeated. i will not die bloated in the streets from your infamy!

The Misadventures of PEN & M: A RETROSPECTIVE

(she says with flourish, catchy title eh?)

as our 2 year anninversary approaches we'd like to take the time to acknowledge our own hardwork of keeping up a 2 person blog before blogging was cool, but just when it was becoming a fad. i think at the time we started, if you want to check out the beginning October 5th to be exact, we had collaborative expectations- a dialogue if you will of playing off one another and our different strengths. . . our conversation still holds true- Pen still talks about Target and reality Tv, I moan about my jobs and various melodramas, and the necessity of communicating has remained very much the same... we need to write. it is desperately necessary. and it's my darkest fear that i'll one day stop. 3 years out and it still is- is it like a river that can run dry if there is nothing to feed it? me thinks so.

I met Pen in Chicago back in 2000. (No, way! Has it been 6 years). I sat next to her in an intimidating and intense 4 person writing workshop, went to breakfasts with my still favorite teacher phyllis moore- heaping on butter and syrup upon delicious pancakes, walked around the city, watched as we became a 3 person workshop and finally around the 6month mark, Pen began to talk to me... I used to look at her completely unnerved by this quiet, sharp eyed girl wondering what on earth drove her to silence... since I could never shutup- "it's what we call pressure to speak"... and as the year passed, we drank beer, sitting on the linoleum of my dorm, figuring out clever things to say as we left our mark upon some pages- and then she left the program for greener pastures (not necessarily cooler ones ; ) and we corresponded over email. and i think that's when i first really got to know this wry comedic person with a twist of brooding- and as i do, latched onto her and refused to let her go, paragraph by paragraph- absorbing bits of her thru email. i think it took her a lot longer to decide i wasn't too intense or crazy. but she's still here so i feel the love.

it's funny how conversations come and go in cycles- we're still talking about the same things but yet i don't think any of it is boring- the gift and curse of a writer is that we can make anything interesting- barring discussion on whether this post is or isn't withstanding- it's our thoughts that feed the smallest action, illiciting meaning and emotion from an overturned shoe, spilled water, a dead fish or one failed job after the next... i'd like to think it adds up to something.

oh i'll do it tomorrow- (today.)

i had planned a glorious saga of PEN & M but what i got was like 2 days of ill sleep and a maudlin attitude about my life, my weight, watching excema break out on my hands and toes, wondering if i’ll get hired back or if they hate the fact i work thru lunch but won’t tell me and so just prefer to fire me or not hire me back come the end of september- i imagine never finding a job again. i think about entering an art fair and no one coming to buy my pieces, no one having a kind word to say, never writing the greatest Californian Novel, dying sad and and obscure without a husband to mourn my loss or kids to send to therapy, i imagine my animals dying... i think this world sucks. my life sucks. and then i’m like woh, what the fuck. slow down. you’re doing yoga again, eating right again, treadmilling like a hamster- can you have like retro-active doldrums or as stewart on madTv says “dark places” ... why is the devil trying to keep me down? or is it the diet coke? or maybe the sandanistas... or what exactly sucks me over to the dark side when everything is going right?

Free Bird

Currently the offices of Pen & M are hard at work. Their strategy is to shock, awe and confound now that Pen is away frolicking and living her life- M is most likely jealous, wondering when she’ll be able to go anywhere for a week... but has hope for a chicago trip this fall. she further hopes to continue to make the posts all about her- having found further insight to herself from the blog “I’d Rather Be Here Now” which had an informative article on narcissism. . .

current conditions:

:temperature- warm.
:chewing spearmint (2 sticks)
contemplating this quote: “expectation is a contract that the person has neither read, agreed to or signed” wondering that once standards and expectations are voiced for the world or a person- what happens then? is this other quote “it is what it is” further justifying apathy in the world, lack of social action, consequence and right living- or just making it okay for you to not care. concluding that both quotes are ridiculous when used as life principles.
:drinking iced water
:shoes off, hiked up skirt under desk.
:itching neck, clock gazing, epiphany striking, wondering why the work day isn’t over yet.

little bit of this, and sayonara for now

• Today, dehydration. Too much wine last night, although extremely tasty. I think the dumbest thing I did all night was almost eat raw beef at Little Dipper, and I blame this on being 3 sheets by then and apparently too blonde to understand the concept of letting it "cook" a few in the fondue pot. But really, I'm just a jackass who should not leave the house very often unsupervised.
• The 1-spot at Target this week has, along with all sorts of festive back-to-school stuff, these little metal candy lunchboxes and buckets with a few pieces of things like Dubble Bubble and Lemonheads. This makes me happy.
• I've been having these intermittent moments of misplaced panic today whenever I look at K.Lo, and wonder, what am I going to do with her when she gets a little older. Like, what do you do with kids. Is going about your day with a few additional dippy songs and an accompanying dance thrown in all right? Because that's what I'm doing right now, and she seems to be doing okay. She seems healthy and relatively entertained... Huh.
• I've been watching a lot of Bravo shows lately, ProRun3 (obviously)... I've finally bonded with "My Life on the D-List," per mendacious' long-ago recommendation. I don't know what it is about Kathy Griffin, it's like I could never stand her, just because she was supposed to be annoying in that episode of Seinfeld, and her onstage persona didn't seem that different. But she's sort of fantastic, and I love her. Any scene involving those dogs, or her parents, and her deadpan perspective re: all her lousy gigs--priceless.
• Also, "Workout?" Anyone? It's interesting like all the Bravo shows, with the drama-loving characters and whatnot, and all the services no one normal can afford. But I cannot get past this:

And I realize, this may not be the best picture pairing, and in many ways, yes--they are totally different. Jackie is blonde, Brandon is brunette. Jackie is cut, Brandon's just sorta-toned. Jackie is serious, Brandon's a goof. Jackie's about the workout, Brandon's about the hair. But...does it not look like Brandon is really Jackie with a bad wig? And, on that note, I know he charges hundreds of bucks a cut, but buddy, the hair. It was never a good thing.

• Finally, tomorrow K.Lo and I will be heading up the road to H-borough, and then PA, actually the Scranton area, like where Dunder-Mifflin is, supposedly! Anyway, we'll be gone until next Tuesday or so, and probably won't be online very much. Have a good week, everyone. P.S. L, I meant when I said if you had a Book Club meeting this week, that it would be fine, but I will cry. Next week, guys, pretty please? And Ashley, you need to buy the book and read it. It's really good, and easy to get into, a fast read. I swear.
• m, I fully expect you to hold down the Ivy Fort while I'm gone. Here is your hat for this purpose:

Go forth, and godspeed.

Flip It

After grad school I didn't really give my parents the chance to turn my room into anything else but a shrine to me- Firstly I installed friends on a rotating basis who stayed in my room for a semester to a year, so they wouldn't get used to a personal sense of freedom without children and then i came home for the summers and the holidays just to remind then that it was in fact a possibility i might return. Prefrably of course I'd be living in a swank house with a well-to-do husband, clearly i was never meant to live in a shit hole, so my personal freedom is frankly not worth the suicidal tendencies it would garner... Although life on the urban farm has its downsides- the septic tank for one which just equates to shitty plumbing and a whole lot of letting it mellow and feeling guilty for taking long showers. The second more prominent problem is the hideous lack of air conditioning- I'm sure that the power in the house couldn't handle it though- for instance we turn on the microwave and the toaster and the whole house trips a switch- and someone has to set down their bbq chicken and go turn everything back on- plus i think the house is so leaky it wouldn't hold the air. But I rue the summer and in particular, record heat breaking days, like saturday where the temperature in my backyard was 112F. today it was like a humid 105F. WTF,right? ... but that's life outside of LA- and its called 'the valley'.

which leads me to my dads fortress of solitude. in some sort of premonition, back in the 80's my dad forsaw his withdrawl from society and family. Or in fact he was already craftily planning his escape. He decided to "add on" to the garage- which meant doubling its size and adding a story- the precious 2nd story, where there is installed an a/c unit. everyday he goes out and up and does not return until dinner. the only downside is the garage doesn't have cable or a bathroom- otherwise we'd never see him. so mom and i only venture up to harass him if we need something or mom wants to sew... usually we prefer outside and the house to the temperate environs of the ever running cryogenics machine. except for days like this- we plan our take over. he invites mom up, bcs you know, he enjoys her company- but me... that's 50/50. for instance he hates any of our music selections. i hate his and mom sits inbtw with a grumpy face. i become a petulant teen, or a 7 year old- to get his attention- dad,dad,dad,dad- what! dad,dad,dad,dad- but he never rationalizes that i will most likely refuse to suffer and he always acts surprised when i come trapsing up the stairs and begin to take over everything like the invasive species that i am-

so now after a night of designing a quilt, watching reruns of the office- i've decided to stay behind. (the temp in my room is 90.) i pulled the camping pads down from the rafters- gave myself a tablecloth for a blanket and brought a pillow. i've absconded his laptop and am camping out like a true drifter, couch loaf, kid whose been banished to the basement-it's like a vacation from myself- with the hum of sweet cold air.
-M
(ps. please send the latest entertainment weekly, double-ply toilet paper, some chapstick, sunflower seeds and dietcoke- also if you can- some double chocolate-chocolate chips and whatever netflix cd you're finished with. thanks!

picsforthcoming

buy eli's book

Taking Cue's cue, I wanted to pass along that one of our fellow MFAers, Eli Hastings, has a new book coming out in September, called Falling Room. We should all buy it, and read it, as Eli is a fantastic writer. Also, it is so important for us to celebrate each other's literary successes. Even if we are green with envy.

Kidding, kidding. Cheers to Eli! Who is very much on his way.

In the Silence

aS PER some request i've decided to talk more about my work place. the awe of being employed again has settled into routine. which allows me to begin to more effectively observe my environment. i've managed to befriend two PA's- although not many conversations pass they seem to genuinely be glad to see me, and welcome or initiate the morning hello.
it's like, why not you know? although i have as yet to conquer the post coordinator and sup. they seem elusively indifferent and won't even look up when i pass- aware or not of my presence. if i directly say hello they'll respond but even when asking the group of us 'loggers' a question they usually address the head logger craig. who is the guy that ignored me yesterday. and i look up excited to hear about a conversation then am crestfallen when it's not even addressed to me and they could care less for my enthusiasm of how we're going to 'rock the number of tapes' we have piling up. the supe left with an 'okay' if you say so-- sort of long with an imagined eye roll. i mental note to try and not talk again in their presence as it seems to just infuriate and interrupt them- as the Supe is constantly whistling the sad mash song- of course he probably doesn't know the lyrics about 'suicide being painless' but still. it instigates my own random whistling and i suppose he must be threatened. the coordinator merely plays battle games online all day- and as he now officially shares an office with the supe, moved his desk so you can't see what he's doing... they have the tv on and have recently put up a large italian flag-
back in our little nucleus we are a week or more behind on tapes- but we have another week left where tapes won't be coming in so we can catch up...
however i note with some obsessiveness that the amount of tapes i output equals that of both cindy and craig combined. and as try as i might to slack off it apparently does not equal their slacking off. as there are only so many calls to take, emails to check, online stories of heroism to ignore... i do take to collecting fruit stickers and putting them on the paper that has my name and title on it- hoping by the end to have it be a many splendid color menagerie- this kills only a miniscule amt of time, then i become wary as the same people keep spotting me in the breakroom. it is possible that i am trying every minute to resist the bag of doritos or hershey's minis- but whatever- i'm getting water/dietcoke/stringcheese and collecting stickers! this morning as i was putting my lunch away the Ross PA said hello and we had a discussion about coffee, and how this coffee tastes chemical-ee - i myself abstain, to which he replied: that's probably why your teeth are so white. i left and smiled- thinking, this was a good way to start the day.
the one person in the box i talked to most, was maria, the story assistant- she was just relocated to a less remote location but comes by to say hi- she was the one i most talked with and now to my back there is a gapping hole of silence. usually i can harass matt the post-release coordinator to talk to me and cindy as well- usually if it pertains to footage and then sometimes about other things... but mainly it's just me, spinning my chair around, stalking the breakroom and hitting my tennis ball against the white cinder brick wall. occassionally i get up to look thru a locked door that's in our box- where strangers are trolling around in a dark non-flourescent paradise... and i wonder if they look in on us as well. i try to note their locations, see if they're doing anything interesting on their computers. this most often leaves me remarking on them like i would about the weather and walking away.
then i just go back to playing with the tennis ball- when i told cindy and matt they could each have one they both flat out declined- i'm thinking that tomorrow i will bring in a koosh ball or maybe a paddle ball and leave them on the shelf to see if they'll take part in the fun. i am skeptical. i hang my head in shame with the realization that i am "that girl"... who makes the ball against the wall noises, who occassionally lets the ball stray under the desks of the other co-workers... and comments on things like- can you believe, and isn't this a, wouldn't it be cool if... the time. passed. by. quicker. with. conversation. and not the dead silence of productivity. a well oiled machine. a non-commital-ness. we have not the time to stand idly by- 2 months left and we vanish into the ether of gig, no gig- meanwhile i'll try to watch the ball-noise level and attempt to share my sunflower seeds with the box folks- i thought about baking them cupcakes but that might be too obvious.

you must watch the fraggles

Here's why. The Fraggles are absolutely fantastic, and I have to say, I was not quite aware of just how fantastic until recently, when I started watching Season 1. (Thanks to L and H for a most excellent birthday/baby present). I watched Fraggle Rock back in the day and loved it, but remained a bigger fan of the Muppets. And I will still always love the Muppets. But, about the Fraggles--did you know:

• Jim Henson originally conceived the idea for Fraggle Rock, intending to create a kid's show that would inspire world peace. He wanted to do a show with "the concept of understanding other people's points of view to understand why countries don't get along with each other on a very childlike level." And knowing Jim Henson, no one laughed at this pitch.
• Included in the Season 1 DVD is an actual replica of Jim Henson's idea notebook (which is awesome) for Fraggle Rock, scribbled into while he was on a Concorde flight from London to NYC. From this notebook, you find out that the Fraggles were going to be called the Woozles, what became the Gorgs were the Giant Woozles, and the Doozers were actually going to have their own separate world as well and be called the Wizzles.
• The show was going to be filmed/distributed to several countries the world over, and for the most part the format would be exactly the same. The different part of the show for each country would be the "Outer Space" landscape, which in our country is the old guy and Sprocket's work room. Also, the things that Traveling Matt saw and reported on via postcard to Gobo would be different as well, according to that country's culture.

I'm a few eps in, and here's what's fun:

• The characters echo certain Muppets. For instance, Wembley is totally Rizzo the Rat in both personality and voice. The Head Gorg guy has the face and voice of the Ghost of Christmas Present from The Muppet Christmas Carol. Gobo reminds me a lot of Scooter.
• And Mokey... I love Mokey. She totally reminds me of one of our professors at Art Institute. She's la-de-da, just soft-voiced, yet inspiring. She kind of even looks like PM, just a little bit. It's hilarious.

• K.Lo will also watch the Fraggles, and yesterday sat through an entire ep before naptime. Granted, she will also watch NASCAR (shudder), but she did seem particularly into the Fraggles.

And lucky her, thanks to her super-duper Aunt Kim, two real live Fraggles, Gobo and Boober, happen to live in her crib.

• As with any Muppet-type production, you've got great writing, very witty. Appeals to both children and adults, in surprising ways.
• And, it is so not heavy-handed. As an adult viewer, you can totally see the message they're trying to get across, but you won't be exasperated. Instead, you'll think, people of every age should watch The Fraggles. It is so smart, and about the things we all discuss daily: relationships, jobs, entertainment. It's brilliant, like it's truly got the whole world figured out. Go watch it now, and spread the word. It's a Fraggle Revolution!

P.S. If you're really a fan, you must also know about this.

i crack myself up

I was organizing my computer files the other day (much needed), and I ran across some things that made me laugh. Here's one of them. The bitch of it is that I can't even remember if I gave the guy this critique letter for his essay. I think I did. I kind of hope I did.

Anyway... sorry, Bryan. Like it even matters now.

Ha!

*****

Dear Bryan,

My critique is as follows:

Your own critique of my piece, which contained barely a positive word or even the objective observation that my aesthetic was simply not your cup of tea, made me feel like one of those kids on American Idol who, hard as they try, just can’t sing a note. Our objective, of course, is to help each other make our projects the best they can be; an irritable review remains an irritable review and, particularly in a workshop setting, will more likely be hurtful, not helpful. I’m sorry, but I didn’t feel critiquing your piece with the effort and sincerity I usually put forth to be worth my time.

Thanks,

penelope

Lend Me Your Ear

So I had an exciting morning. Last night a friend was coming over so there was no time for gas getting, which anyway i vowed to do in the morning. As all rational people do. My car has a 60 mile safety reserve past E. This has been tested and proved true- but with the a/c running i get maybe 30 miles less before the Empty/Reserve Light hits. I'd been driving around on empty at this point for about 41 miles. I'd already pushed it to that nervous spread of the mouth point, to the tucking of the lips in, panic point. Luckily a gas station is a block away. I pull in and it refuses to take my ATM card- twice. I think oh god. Did I overwithdrawl, which sets in a whole nother round of panic. And then i think, that's why you don't cut up credit cards. Now, you can't even make it to Pasadena to do yoga. You won't even be able to make it home! But then as I drive away, well, that's why i chose a life on the edge. (We'll see how long it lasts). No usury. To live a life debt free even if it takes me 40 years. (of course I didn't cancel them, I'm NOT craZy) I shut off my a/c and roll down the windows. I ride on the freeway in the right lane just in case the car quits on me- with a EEEENNNNGGGG GAME OVER- buzzer flashing it's warning in my mind. I make it to the bank and now if I can just get to the ARCO station where gas is $3.21. Harrowingly I hit red light after red light, knowing each braking moment will sap more of my gas vapors, i brake gently, i accelorate, with a fine and delicate finesse of someone who has not a care in the world- And then as I take the last dip under an underpass I hit another red. I think it will be impossible to A. push my car up B. There is nowhere to pull over. Thankfully I pull up out of the dip and safely into the Arco gas station- where my $20 gets me less than half a tank. I rejoice. I think about corn for fuel, about the crappy cereal I have to eat because I now only have $8.21 in my account.I think payday is tomorrow and that makes me happy- for both cash and direct deposit. I look at the mileage read out- 49.8. I set it to zero. I get a sweet parking spot and I see a co-worker, who manages to say- you got a good parking spot. I mumble something about my tumultuous morning to which he replies not a word. I walk thru the parking lot with the sun beating down on me, just waiting to sit down so I can tell someone my story- to wipe the bitter taste of debt, indifference, and cornflakes from my mouth...

To this Week's End

i was having some serious posting issues, but realize i must carry on for the sake of mankind. i also realize that being able to read James (wingsofthedove) makes me feel elitist, heady and smart- sort of like when i was reading proust- it makes me feel like i don't have to worry about becoming stupid just arrogant and inaccessible... so saturday was go to the Getty day. this is typically my mom's place and i mostly tolerate it- enjoy it. whatever. i realize after posting these, the pics i give you show you nothing really of the architecture which actually diminishes most of the art inside- given the type of collector he was i wonder if getty would be psyched by that or not. well what are you going to do as one of the richest organizations in the world but build giant complexes on top of mountains looking out to the pacific. i know not. of course looking at all this art took work so we had to rest and not dehydrate ourselves, unfortunately i simulatenously o'd on caffiene. which really is probably from the devil if you
think about it. . . this is mom's like 5th icecream sandwich- i made her keep eating them over and over until i got the perfect picture. she was later fired for sleeping on the job. but i hired her back sometime later to take pictures of this garden which i refused to walk down there and be baked alive. but mom cannot refuse to look at flowers no matter what. she is committed and mostly in that amusing institutional sense. there were lots of people walking around with beige umbrellas bcs really the getty is cool like that- no matter rain or shine, you will have dull things on sticks to carry around. during our break we made some high falutin' cracker art- pretty spectacular what crackers can be. you know like killer architectual elements and um weapens of raspy dehydrated death- whatever. then later after looking at bird and landscape pictures- after the famous irises and some manet, cezanne- we had a conversation about this guy and if he ever killed anyone or maybe had a villaneous existence. i thought that maybe he was ground down by his position in the court of Louis XIV but who can say. despite his fabulous looking robe was he that happy... which makes me glad we've moved to less serious portraiture to seeing how wide people can smile- although secretly i one day dream that i will have an oldschool painting of myself hanging in a library somewhere but isn't this gray dichondra lovely... yes, yes it is. and here of course is an aerial down to the garden . . . i would be inspired to say more- like when i start up conversations about getting stuck 6 stories underground- bcs that's how far down we had to park but i'll save that for another day. pretty much it was a good time and redeemed what one calls "outings" ... the next day i saw Nacho Libre. I can't say the same for sunday- but then you know, 2 days in a row is pushing my luck.

jic you were wondering, and OMG!

Because we really care, we really do:
Oprah is NOT gay.

And, did you know (I did not), that people actually say "O-M-G" out loud, like "Oh. Em. Gee," instead of "Oh my God," or "Ohmigod?" Whenever I read "OMG," I think "ohmigod" in my head, because like...that's what it is, right? OMG is simply a polite and convenient abbreviation?

There was this lady in Target today, simultaneously on her cell phone and screaming at her two boys, something to the effect of, "What would you like me to DO ABOUT IT, little man???" She was so effing loud and mean, too. And who says "little man" in a non-facetious manner? I mean, I'm sure I'm going to have my moments with the kid, or kids, or whatever--we all do. But I more got the sense that the lady acts like this a lot. Whatever. Anyway, then she goes, very dramatic and drawn out, to no one in particular--or maybe it was to the cell: "Oh. Em. GEE!" To which I did a total double-take.

I am so out of it.

reality alert

Okay, look, I just can't resist. For all of you out there even mildly interested in reality television (and I may be the only one), you must check out this list of upcoming reality shows. Here are a few of note:

1. Dirty Dancing: Living the Dream - Tentatively due 12/6/06 - Thirty women under the instruction of six professional male dancers compete for a chance to perform in a stage show based on the movie. (On WE. Sounds really cheesy, but for fans of the movie... the movie was cheesy too. Which is precisely what makes it such a classic.)

3. Hair Trauma -- Due March 2007 - Go inside Ellin LaVar’s full service Manhattan salon. (Also on WE. Um, if it's anything at all like Blow Out?)

7. Gene Simmons Family Jewels - Due 8/7/06 - Similar to "The Osbournes" but with Gene Simmons and his family. (On A&E. He was entertaining on that School of Rock-type show on VH1, so sounds kind of hilarious.)

9. Sons of Hollywood - Due Fall 2006 - Second-generation Hollywood sons trying to reach fame. Includes Randy Spelling (Aaron's son), and Rod Stewart's son, Sean. (On A&E. Tori has a brother, wha?!)

15. My Big Fat Fabulous Wedding - Due in Fall 2006 - Similar to MTV’s "My Sweet Sixteen" but with weddings over $500,000. (On VH1. And maybe a little like "Bridezillas," too? Ooo, juicy.)

19. The Surreal Life: Fame Games - Due Fall 2006 - An all-star elimination edition of "The Surreal Life" that will feature previous cast members competing in challenges for a $100,000 prize. Hosted by former "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous" host Robin Leach, the all-stars list includes: Emmanuel Lewis, Ron Jeremy, Traci Bingham, Vanilla Ice, Brigitte Nielsen, Chyna Doll, Sandra "Pepa" Denton and C.C. DeVille.

20. Surreal Life 8 - Date TBD - Cast to include: Randy “Macho Man” Savage, poker player Phil Hellmuth, Peter Steele of the band Type O Negative and playmate Tina Jordan. Other rumored cast includes Carrot Top, a member of Blue Man Group, and actor Dabney Coleman. (Both on VH1, of course. I'm so pumped, I have nothing more to add... Although, Carrot Top? Gah.)

24. Twentyfourseven - Due late 2006 - Seven friends try to break into the entertainment business in Hollywood. Modeled after "Entourage" and shot in a "Laguna Beach" style. (On MTV. Excellent.)

28. Rob & Big Black - Due Fall 2006 - Follows a professional skateboarder and his bestfriend/bodyguard. From the producers of "Jackass." (On MTV. Someone I know is working on this show, so we ALL have to watch, just because.)

30. The Carters - Due Fall 2006 - Aaron and Backstreet Boy brother Nick Carter team up with their three sisters in hopes to bring the five siblings closer. (On E! This sounds so god-awful, I don't think I'll be able to help myself from watching.)

32. One Ocean View - Due 7/31/06 - Follows a group of New Yorkers during their weekends in a summer house on New York’s Fire Island - described as "The Real World" meets "Laguna Beach" for adults. (On ABC. And "The Real World" And "Laguna" aren't for adults? Huh.)

41. HBO is developing an untitled reality "Sex and the City" capturing the lives of women within an undecided big city. Produced by Amy Harris, former Sex and the City writer/producer. (Depends on how they put it together...Could be good, could be awful. "Sex and the City" is too genius to try and duplicate.)

44. On the Lot - Midseason 2007 - Produced by Steven Spielberg and Mark Burnett, aspiring young filmmakers compete for a development deal at DreamWorks Studio. (Fox. Mendacious--you, me. We need to look into this.)

48. Breaking Up With Shannen Doherty - Due 8/13/06 - Shannen will intervene in toxic relationships and decide if a breakup is necessary. (On Oxygen. Yes!)

45. Trapped In TV Guide - Due 8/4/06 - This hidden camera show watches how regular people react as they are "trapped" in some of the funniest, most unforgettable scenes from television classics and current hits such as "Seinfeld," "Desperate Housewives," "The X-Files" and "I Love Lucy." (Umm... Does anyone watch the TV Guide Channel, for real? Sounds like a traffic accident.)

54. The Monastery - Date TBA - Ordinary young men try out life in a monastery for 40 days. (On TLC. Sounds captivating.)

63. Master Chef at Large - Date TBA - Starting with 96 contestants, whittles to four finalists in high stakes competition serving for banquets up to 600 people.

64. Everything Must Go - Date TBA - Two hosts help families clear out their possessions and sell them for a decent price. (Both of these on BBC America. Because anything in a British accent is somehow more fun.)

68. Election - Due Fall 2006 - James Carville and Mary Matalin help high school students campaign for their school elections. (Lifetime. If it's anything like "Cheerleader Nation," I'm so there.)

81. The Comeback - Due 8/17/06 - Guests who were booted off fighting shows are another chance. (Spike. J.Lo, this one's for you.)

The following currently have no network attached:

83. Donald Trump and RJ Cutler pitching a Monopoly reality show this week to the networks.

85. Elvira wants to retire and is looking for a replacement via a reality show. The producers want to do some taping in Transylvania.

And, finally...

86. Osama Bin Laden’s niece Wafah Dufour signed on with an agency to put together a reality series following her attempt to break into the music industry as a singer/musician. (WTF!!!)

Brought to you by Penelope, TV Watcher Extraordinaire.

saturday: happy things

tomatoes (and one pepper)

squash

k.lo

today

posts will soon come with glorious activities such as lunch and a trip to the getty... pictures even betta. have a good weekend.

good afternoon

things done today:
-helped Mom clean MY fridge (thanks, Mom!)
-said goodbye for now
-ironed some shirts
-watched Project Runway: Road to Runway
-realized I am soooo behind on DVR shows, but--
-also realized the weekend spent playing catch-up with that will be FUN

baby is:
-currently sleeping in my lap
-wearing a really cute dress (awww)
-occasionally blowing raspberries in her sleep (awesome)

dogs are:
-sleeping
-snoring like an old man (Bender)
-dreaming and close-mouthed barking (Bailey)

feeling:
-slightly crazy (a long story for another day)
-a little melancholy after catching up on the Mean Friend blog
-mostly optimistic after all

need to:
-de-rat's-nest hair
-find a different shirt because this one is too big and also doesn't have any straps, which is quite precarious
-watch more DVR'd stuff
-eat something, but NOT (as in the case of both lunch and breakfast today) chocolate covered raisins or brownies that Mom brought

tonight will:
-watch J.Lo play v-ball at Captain Bill's
-drink a beer or two
-hopefully sleep

AND:
-why I love mendacious:

Not because she bought me a present. There are many other, non-superficial reasons to love mendacious. But that she pre-ordered this, the official DWIGHT K. SCHRUTE bobblehead, for me--like, the day BEFORE I wrote this blog. It arrived on my doorstep a few days ago, and OMG. What can I say about a Dwight K. Schrute bobblehead, other than it is fanTAStic. Thanks, m!

good evening

things done today:

-shower (good job me!)
-i forgot to brush my teeth (sorry sarah)
-took out the trash
-watered wilty looking plants
-avoided working out, ate cookies instead (in total addict mode)
-watched episode 5 of VM season 1
-paid 3 bills! (i have $37 to last me all week, damn cutting up of the credit cards)
-emailed mean friend, eliciting alienating email, retaliated with email where i consider ending the friendship
-exercise my aching hands with a tennis ball
-brush plantive golden retriever
-pet 2 cats
-watch southpark
-do work @ actual work place
-eat chicken nuggets
-consider rehab, something cush like "promises" in malibu
-have 1 phone conversation
-block out the hot sun by tacking up tshirts and tableclothes over windows that are shadeless
-think about tomorrow
-email email email
-stare out into the darkness of my soul (laugh as i say this) check off: moody contemplation, sarcasm, boredom.
-floss teeth.

Why leaving the house on Saturday was a Mistake.

aka LONG RANT
Today i was in a coma brought on by lack of protein (hence the late blog). The crap i'm eating is so not cutting it. Like the bean dip and chips i'm eating right now. I did however make it to Yoga. My one success of the week thus far. Which brings me to my one failure of last week, and how sometimes I conclude that I should A. boycott all west coast friends B. boycott going out to see anyone to avoid life or conflict-both. Now usually as happens I have people in my life who invariably bring me back to the fact that all of humanity shouldn't be wiped out and that good times are too be had by leaving the house. Yet I remain wary...

Usually when I have a lot of events to go to or to chose from- its the all or nothing rule. At this point I'd narrowed the field to: goodbye dinner with friend and art opening after. It was ambitious socializing. Both of which ended disasterously. For one thing, my friend was leaving LA for good- which made me breathe back tears on a few occassions. So already the evening is tainted- the bad service, the expensive prices only built there on- to my already wary low-blood sugar self. I get 2 calls. I tell both in coming friends that there is a free 90 minute parking lot- i tell them where it is but neither absorb the information. One person in particular took quite offense that I would not give them my $2 so they could park in a metered spot- This makes no sense to me- tell me if I've wronged them here:

Mean Friend: Okay, I'm here.... Do you have the $7 you owe me from last week.
Me: No. I need it, that's all the cash I have. I didn't know you needed it.
Mean Friend: Well can I borrow $2 to feed the meter....
Me: Why aren't you parking in the free lot I just told you about?
Mean Friend: Because I'm not. I'm already running late.
Me: Park in the free lot.
Mean Friend: (Click)

She arrives and I can already tell she's mad. She borrows $2 from someone else, right in front of me, nay in fact, says, I'll pay for your iced-tea. To further express the fact that she's such a generous person. She then leaves. Goes to make change. Walks back to her car- is gone for a good 10 minutes and returns, to sit far away from me. On leaving with the other friend to go to the art opening, in all civility, I tell her where we're going. She then starts in while my other friend is in direct ear shot- and asks me why I wouldn't give her the $2 and help her in her time of need. We go back and forth and I say in all candidness- I wasn't in a place to hear your need. You should've parked in the free lot- and further, this isn't the place for us to discuss this. She then says, up in my face, Well I needed to tell you before I get any more pissed off than I already am. (End conversation)Ooo. Burn. Ouch. I feel scorched.

Now, the deep seeded rage has begun- clearly I should've stayed home with Veronica Mars and Henry James. I act normally, express my goodbyes, tell my other friend what percipitated the outburst- yet inwardly, heavy metal doors are shutting with an alarming fierceness. I go to the art opening. We talk about the art, we chat, we wander, we sit- we socialize. I manage to tell a few stories, converse with the artist and am about to make my exit. Except that Mean Friend comes just as I'm about to get up and in some sort of sick politeness sits with us, bcs we allll waved at her when she came in. I am now faced with a similar problem. Ignore her and leave or in some way acknowledge her presense. The evening murk thickens further with the arrival of two more people right after(a couple, friends #3/4) which I've spent the last 4 months extricating myself from- painfully. So that whenever I hear what's going on in their lives, post-fact, I feel jealousy shoot thru my heart, that I am no longer privvy to that information, emphasizing again and again how I am no longer a close friend, and that i perhaps shouldve had that 3rd glass of wine. Further they hem and haw about a story their telling, which reminds me of a couple conversations i've just had:

Friend #1 (whom i love and adore): (What did you do for the 4th?) I went to a thing with some of the so-and-so's. (Um, when telling a story is it just me or do people usually include more specifics? This particular friend usually doesn't, but already a penalty flag has been thrown onto the field.)

Friend #2: (What did you do for the 4th?) I, uh, went to a BBQ with some uh, people. (Well? Really? The plot thickens.)

Friend #3 and #4: So then we were standing in so-and-so's house and then blah blah blah- (Oh really? When was that?) It was uh, uh, uh... oh, like a few days ago- (You mean for the 4th?) OH, YA. IT WAS FOR THE 4th. (Pretty absent minded people. Considering at that point it had only been four days ago. Someone has just been ejected from the game.) I manage to act normal with them also, even making eye contact with Mean Friend once or twice to include her in the conversation. Deep down a part of me is breaking from that information alone- not for being excluded on the 4th. That's not it. It's that by their evasion, which lets face it are straight up LIES by omission if nothing else- tells me something. It took 4 people to get to the truth. The facts- the actual a to b part of the story, if that. When really all I needed to hear was the truth from one person. Which in itself is no fucking big deal. There was a BBQ. Who the fuck cares, regardless if I had wanted to be there, or not, or if I didn't even belong. That's the root evil of being in an elite circle. You make people feel excluded, by making it known that you did not want them there, that they weren't invited, no matter what. Period. BCS you do everything you can to keep them from finding out- to say that you were trying to protect me is a lie. Or to spare me. It's also- a lie. You are protecting yourself from feeling awkward and uncomfortable. I was just being polite by asking. Next time I vow to not make polite conversation again, next time I will grab my drink and walk to the otherside of the room- don't tell me i'll say. I don't want to know about your life. A dark storm passes over my eyes, it begins to rain heavily, but no one knows it.

I begin to despise these social civilities and yet- it's not that I would want to act rudely or not try to repair the damage, i would. i'm not 5. Or am I? We all realize thankfully that it is much too late- We get up in unison and we break apart, managing to avoid any other direct meaningful interaction. As I drive home I can feel the poison leaking into my heart and i flood the compartment with forgetfulness so that the memory of the evening isn't ruined... i feel that i've entered a dramatic victorian novel. i fan myself. i think of 'the awakening'... of poor virginia woolf- and wonder why, when i asked God to show me the beauty in people I am just further reminded of their small pettyness. MY own to be sure too. No mistake. (Such small little events, stacked upon the heart, to set it breaking at the slightest prick.) Today i get a text, from mean friend- who won't call- we should talk, i have all day, before this goes on too long... too long. too long.

I leave the message unanswered. I shut off my phone. I vow to not ever see the light of day again, well until I have to, or there's good food involved, or maybe a movie.

SQUIIIIRRELS!

I'm sure you remember this scene in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, when the family discovers a squirrel in the second Christmas tree. The first one, of course, burned to a crisp when Uncle Lewis lit his cigar in front of thing--the tree, I mean. When Clark Griswold sees the squirrel, it springs forward into the living room, and his father shouts, "SQUIIIIRREL!" Everyone screams, runs. People faint. It's awesome.

So whenever I see a squirrel, the line, "SQUIIIIRREL!" pops into my head. And I kind of do want to run. I'm in the part of society that believes squirrels are simply publicly-accepted rats with bushy tails. And I never knew they made sounds until I went to college. I didn't learn this information in a class--all that stuff I forgot. But one day in the spring (or was it the fall?), my roommate came back to the dorm and told her tale of the Heckling Squirrels. They were everywhere, in the trees, on the sidewalks, in the trash cans, and it was like they were yelling at her. Creepy.

Anyway, here are the some of the trees in our backyard:























As you can see, they are quite large. And the lawn looks quite lovely, if we do say so ourselves. J.Lo just mowed on Saturday, and with that comes miscellaneous yard cleanup, so it should be spotless. As of yesterday, here is what we noticed under the largest tree:














The branches, you notice, are kind of big. What might have caused this, you ask? Tree wolves? Bender smacking her head during a particularly impressive tennis ball catch? Oh no, none of these. It is, in fact, SQUIIIIRRELS!

J.Lo proposed the idea yesterday evening, and I was skeptical. I mean, I suppose it occurred to me that the tree rats might make nests, and might choose to craft a summer home now and then. Why not. And so they use branches. That I can believe. But these freaking branches are not small. And the squirrels, they are downright wild. I saw it myself. It was crazy. K.Lo and I got back from the Target, and as we were exiting the car, I saw the apparent Evil Squirrel Gang that is terrorizing ours and our neighbor, Daryl's, yard, careen through a series of small trees that divide the two yards, rip off and chuck a few branches, and continue on their hellrasing path around the garbage cans, up the telephone pole, etc.


Bailey and Bender are as baffled as I, as they inspect the yard debris.

The SQUIIIIRRELS are also talking. They sound a little like cats. I could barely get one on camera, but you might be able to pick out the blur in the middle of this one.

All I can really say is, WTF. Squirrels! They freak me out, man. I can't wait to see this castle once they've constructed it. I wonder if they have a tour set up with HGTV, or MTV Squirrel Cribs, or whatever. They're not the most hospitable hosts, though, I have to say; they did not seem too thrilled with my own documentation. Hope they don't read the blog and get mad. That's all we need is a set of SQUIIIIRREL STALKERS.

Ah Activity

Man, I am on the Mellow Train right now. Okay I’m not high- read Momentary Lapse for that one- I”m just beat.

Last night i went to get some cultcha down at the Hollywood Bowl. I have a connection- so i got the comp hook up which is always sweet, to go see Opera. Puccinni’s Tosca. I am so counterculture i can barely stand it. My friend kerry decided to take a hit for me after another friend fell ill- i’m sure for a perfectly legitimate and real sickness. We stopped at Trader Joes for the trademark brie and crackers with strawberries. She opted for hummus and pita chips - followed with chocolate covered pretzels and $2 wine. i make no judgements. Although our culinary tastes became volatile in my stomach sometime later as i just had to have like 2 bites more from the bag-o-death (pretzels)... the girls behind us had some potent olive topenande and grapes which we also sampled. I think i earned every indulgence since my friend made me hike up the hill- a Mile +walk. at a good pace. I got a blister and we missed the explanation for the first act, my chinese salad compacted slantwase in my bag, leaking- and when i sat down my bubbly water exploded all over me and on the 3 chinese tourists in front of me. luckily they didn’t notice, except one who gave a quick glance over her shoulder as if she’d narrowly escaped disaster and back again. it’s true she did. my shirt took the hit as it was now completely soaked in “mixed berry”. it never did recover so when the evening marine layer rolled in over the hill it did little but torture my state. i tucked my arms in my top like a sad poor girl without a jacket.

i said hey to my hook up, met his niece (was jealous that i wasn't his niece), gossiped about the opera- found out everyone dies in the end- and proceeded to have a running conversation about the attractive hero and his doomed Tosca(with their rich delicious voices)- making up conversations about the dialogue, since as it was, there were no direct translations at hand. We applauded when appropriate, knew when to be impressed by their vocal largesse- and instead of yelling brava’, bravo! at the end we whooped and hollared just like when we see non-opera things we really like. Ow, you rock! Oww! (Whistle, Whistle)... Applaud, applaud, applaud.

We waited till the majority of the people fled down the mountain, watching the progress of the full moon rising, then skirted thru the parking lot, down down the hill- as we thought we were less likely to suffocate btw cars then a herd of people with picnic baskets.

Twas a perfect evening.

hope for bloggers and other happy folk

J.Lo and I ended up at the Barnes & Noble today pre-Pirates, as the show we intended to see was sold out and we had some time to kill before the next one. While there, I ran across a few books that gave me a little hope. Like maybe, someday, there might be something for me to actually write, and get published, and make a killing off of. Ha. Ha ha.

Well, if it's not me, then let it be you. Just remember me when you've hit it big.

1. 100 Bullshit Jobs...And How to Get Them, Stanley Bing.* This book's inspiration was threefold. One, it gives you ideas for the actual jobs, should you need a source of income in addition to your blogging/writing. (Although, I have to say, I've thought of quite of few on my own already, I just have no marketing skills. Closet organizer? Please. That is my dream.) Two, the book includes "blogger" as one of the jobs. Granted, the author is also rather blunt in revealing this occupation will make you absolutely no money, but we already knew that. And three, this man, Stanley Bing, managed to write not only this book, but several similar guidebooks, or Top 100 Lists, or whatever, and get them published. They have cute little covers (because, obviously, you should always judge a book by its cover), they're funny, they're concise--and they're currently featured on the endcap at Barnes & Noble. Which is, in and of itself, bullshit. But, the man has got to be rich, and laughing about it.

2. How to Stay Bitter Through the Happiest Times of Your Life, Anita Liberty. Whenever I think about the fact that I don't write anymore, it always pops into my head that I might just be too damn happy to be a writer. Let's be honest, a happy person does not a good writer make. Also, I don't have some Great Tragedy in my back pocket that's going to get me published in my alleged forte, creative non-fiction, or even generate moderate interest amongst friends. Basically, I'm boring. But, this lady, Anita Liberty, presents a new option for getting published when you're feeling way too content in your life. Simply write about the fact that you're way too content, and why this is a problem for your writing. And, in paging through the book, I noticed that she basically rips passages from her own blog to tell the story. She's a performance artist in real life, so she does the blog-snatching along with a few other plays on form, making for at least a visually interesting read, if not a riveting one. And maybe it is riveting, what do I know. It did get 5 stars on amazon.

3. If Harry Potter Ran General Electric : Leadership Wisdom from the World of the Wizards, Tom Morris. Um, hello. Where is my "just for Being You" check they're due to send me in the mail so I can Buy. This. Book. The glasses alone are a grabber. I don't care if it's non-fictiony rhetoric about the business world, I need it, and I need it now. It basically breaks down the ideals contained in the Harry Potter series, and discusses how they are applied in the corporate world. Which, just reading the statement, I'm skeptical. I effing hate corporations and all they stand for. (Aside from Target, I mean. And, clearly, Barnes & Noble. And a bunch of other stores I shop at on a regular basis.) I've read just the cover, though, and I'm already sucked in, simply because it is pro-Harry Potter, and this guy has nothing to do with JK Rowling, he's just plucking ideas straight out of her work and making his own little cash stockpile. Good for him. And thus, another option for "creative" non-fictioners with not a damn thing in their own life to write about. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: we can't all be kidnapped, robbed, beaten and thrown in a trunk for dead. Ahem.

*Yes, the links are to amazon, rather than B&N, which doesn't really make sense considering we were actually at the B&N store. But, the reviews there are more informative, what can I say.

what? oh, nothing. no nevermind.

well, i've got nothing. perhaps when in a breakfast coma one would realize that one shouldn't say anything about anything. back slowly from the keyboard and continue to suck on whatever caffienated beverage is keeping their vitals. well vital. i did not manage to make it to the 9am step aerobics class. this does not bode well for my to'do's for the rest of the day. perhaps i'm ulitmately preparing myself for the heat of the day- or maybe bcs of all the subterfuge that was taking place in my dreams... i need the rest now.

Today
Jul 8 Mostly Sunny
99°/68° 20%
99°F

the random:
-i still love jesus.
-i'm watching reno 911
-i'm grateful to be able to have food to eat everymorning.
-i am not grateful for my non air conditioned house.
-i'm planning to pick peaches, go the the post office. and that's all i know.
-the infection has dissipated from my burn
-wings of the dove has complicated sentence structuring- one might say, obtuse.
-i have film to develop from february...

the way he loves me when i'm not looking

  

more near-misses

Just because I'm clearly obsessed.

In approximately 5 seconds, the following could occur:

• the baby will roll off her changing table and break bones, or worse
• the ring will fall down the drain, into the river, lake, or ocean and be Lost Forever
• I will sideswipe the other car while pulling into or out of the parking space
• the car will run out of gas or otherwise break down on the highway, miles from the nearest exit
• I'll lock the keys and the phone in the car, along with the baby, in 90-degree heat
• we'll miss the mortgage payment and be out on the streets
• I'll leave the wrong door unlocked, encouraging the wrong person to walk in, armed, and steal things
• I've got more.

Thinking apparently brought on by:

• lots of spare time
• too many news-type shows and magazine articles
• overactive imagination
• propensity to be hyper-responsible, and
• propensity to be hyper-aware
• also, a little bit weird.

Results of said thinking:

• a little bit panicked, all the time, and
• annoyed that I'm baited by fear-mongering, and
• energy is wasted, but-
• mesmerized by how close bad things come to happening
• super-appreciative that they don't
• sort of amazed at the neatness of this universe
• have to hope Something Else won't catch me while I'm looking the other way, but
• certain that it will
• suppose that if any of said or not-said things did happen, would deal with it and live.

I wonder sometimes if it's a half-assed attempt to "control" the environment, by thinking of all the ways that we aren't in control? Too bad it won't work. Until then, shall continue to keep the insurance companies in business.

The Day After

Hallo channels of my brain. I am drinking iced-tea. Eating sunflower seeds. Moisturizing cuticles. Squeezing an exercise ball. Absent-minded: waiting for lunch. Staring at my calendar. Feeling: Lone-ness. A deep ache. Feeling: sunflowers stuck in my teeth, feeling thirsty. Pick my teeth. Drink my drink. Off time. Off memory. The ache remains. Breathe out. Go back to work. Think about the cold air. Think about tomorrow and tonight. Put my sweater on. And go back to work. Curled up toes, under my feet. And slip into oblivion.

Happy 4th

i'm working, but i hope you all are eating some good bbq for me.

Independence Day, 4th of July Quotes that I found on some website- oh yah! (which is also my right... um, privilage as an American...

“It ought to be commemorated, as the Day of Deliverance by solemn Acts of Devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other from this Time forward forever more.” —John Adams

“The Sun never shined on a cause of greater worth.” —Thomas Paine (1776)

“I am well aware of the Toil and Blood and Treasure, that it will cost Us to maintain this Declaration, and support and defend these States. Yet through all the Gloom I can see the Rays of ravishing Light and Glory. I can see that the End is more than worth all the Means. And that Posterity will tryumph in that Days Transaction, even altho We should rue it, which I trust in God We shall not.” —John Adams (1776)

“Our cause is noble; it is the cause of mankind!” —George Washington (1779)

FTA

I can't seem to cohesively gather my thoughts- about digestion or my lack of 4th of July fever... and i was over on the Unwilling Adult reading about the journal vs. blog issue, as i've been deliberately trying to drag the poor neglected thing about in the hopes of writing- emoting- in it. i succeeded after a 4month absense to pick it up again. Here are 2 entries (as writer-lee and as emotive as one could want for a 'journal')

(75 degrees) (Facing East) (23:10pm)

"To what do I owe
these many failed
enterprises.
This long riddled absence.
Traded words, fruitless
to the bargain,
collected upon the steps-
rise, revolt.
The pull of my insides
Stave off.
Sleep.
Make it matter.
How it forms upon the,
shore, where it takes me,
what it empties.
Like arrows their targets
find without guides but
good aim....
Dust and grey matter in
the crease of my hands
[lotion won't rectify
this mortal failing]
Tireless. Ticks off the list.
Aches from all their carrying/caring
Pauses.
Recompense.
All the damage,
Exacts payment.
Listless, upon account would
rather sleep than find themselves wanting-
To what?

contd...FTA

(73 degrees) (23:26pm) (Facing East)

A pain, and now fit.
Tripping over ill-matched tracks.
Once upon the rails,
Flowed, flawless.
But some derision,
Rips past and far-afield.
This pull, this fret,
And bloodied hands.
Climb and stumble back.
But missing.
But black/ and not a sound.
No post of welcome.
Now barriers to going back.
She murmers,
He waves-
In shadows, across
A shorn field.

We turn, we walk.
We do not speak,
Down these seperate paths.

I need an outfit to buy bacon in

House Rules Regarding Bacon

1. J.Lo brings it home (figurative)
2. Penelope spends it (figurative)
3. J.Lo fries it up (literal)
4. Penelope must buy it first (literal)

Except this week, and incidentally last week too, I forgot. I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe at the grocery store I passed by the bacon, saw it wasn't on sale and vetoed the idea, rationalizing it would be "better" for us anyway, to not have bacon for a week. But, it's sort of a ritual with us. Sunday morning=brunch, brunch=bacon. So buy the damned bacon, Penelope! Oh well. I forgot. Twice.

So this morning, I ended up going to the Harris Teeter. I don't mind. Normally, I'm a Lowes shopper, all the way, because of principle alone: Lowes gives you half price when you buy one BOGO item, Teeter requires a purchase of both BOGO items in order to get the "discount." It adds up, people, it adds up. But I do like Teeter on a Sunday morning, more so than Lowes because--and I know this is stupid, but--I hate the Lowes parking lot. I do. Maybe it's just too close to the AC Moore craft store, which is always absurdly crowded and reminds me of the Sundays I used to work there years ago, and the hoardes of people, and attempting to "organize" piles and piles of those velvet picture board thingies, which inevitably would topple forward onto my head after trying to cram 6 too many onto the shelf. Maybe that's it. I don't know, but the Teeter lot is just more peaceful, in my mind.

My whole problem with the grocery trip, though, and the reason I'm even telling this story, is because lately, I am FrumpMaster Funk. I'm not joking, that's me. I'm downright dowdy, and it's starting to make my fingernails sweat. J.Lo and are scheduled for a trip to the outlets soon, and let me tell you, I can't wait. Because nothing fits. I've lost all but 10 pounds of my pregnancy weight, which is fantastic, I am not so much complaining about that. The last 10 pounds may or may not go away. I'd rather it would, if I have a choice, because I notice the camera still tends to capture the double chin, which really aggravates me. The bigger problem though, is that I prefer to cover up, at this stage in time, my so-called "problem areas." That would be my sides, my ass. And this would be with shirts that actually fall to an appropriate length. But all of my old shirts, which actually do "fit," really they do, are too short, because approximately half of this baby weight I'm trying to lose is in my boobs.

Which, really, I'm so not complaining. Boobs bigger than an A-cup, woohoo! It's fantastic. But I need some SHIRTS. I swear I bought a bunch of shirts a few months ago, around my birthday, but every time I look in my closet or drawers, they seem to be mysteriously gone. Or in the form of too-hot sweaters. Or they have stains on them, like spaghetti sauce. Or I cut them accidentally with scissors. The point is, I HAVE NOTHING TO WEAR WHEN I GO TO BUY BACON.

And I did (briefly) consider just doing what I did in college, which was to just wear my pjs. Yes, I was one of Those People. Was anyone else? Come on, join me. Did you go to the Wal-Mart or the campus convenience store wearing your pj pants and a holey t-shirt? It was societally acceptable back then. Or at least, I pretended it was in the name of sheer laziness. But now, not so much. We can't do that anymore. We have to wear "clothes." And not sweatpants, either, because as Seinfeld said about George, at that point, it's like you've Given Up.

Anyway, I managed to throw something together for the Bacon Trip. Nothing fancy, mind you, just some cargo pants I found a few days ago in storage from a few summers ago that happen to still fit. And a tank top. And a shirt thrown over that. It will only be 90-some degrees today, no sweat.

Oh, my my myspace

I've been sucked into the vortex of myspace. I'd like to say it's Laura's fault, since she was talking about it the other day, but obviously it's all my own doing. My own, nosy doing. Because I SO wanted to see if I could find any of the people I went to high school with on there, or whatever. And I did. It was crazy. All the people my friend Jamie and I were discussing a couple of weeks ago in a "wonder what the hell happened to them" themed conversation were there. Well, most of them. A lot of them. And what can you really gather from a myspace profile. Everything looks better on paper, right? But a few pictures, a few specs--mainly the ones you'd spout off in a meaningless small-talky conversation at, say, a 10-YEAR REUNION, i.e. job, marital status, kids/no kids, are there. And it's something. Along with a few pictures. It makes me feel "connected," if only in a superficial way. I guess. The trouble is, I can't fucking stop messing with the myspace. Making the background pretty, uploading pictures, yadda yadda. And, most obsessively, I keep thinking of more people to look up and beg to be my "friend."

So far I've found:
1. An ex-boyfriend from college who is married now and has 2 kids. We dated for nearly 3 years, I dumped him because I just wasn't in love--and no, this wasn't even the grad-school BF, people. (The G-S BF would never put any of his information online, I'm sure of it.) Although, I was kind of surprised this other ex-boyfriend did. Shocked, in fact. His family's cute. He seems all different. Though, what did I expect--I am, too. Or at least, I hope to hell I am. Geez. Anyway, he's married to the girl he started dating about...mmm, 3 or 4 months after we broke up. I guess I didn't mean that much to him, either. And yet none of this information really phases me too much. I'm like, huh. Whatever. That's cool.

2. A multitude of high school peeps. People I haven't seen in 10 YEARS, because my family moved several states away from upstate NY less than a week after I graduated high school. And I've only been back twice. And most of the people aren't even there anymore, anyway, they live in all sorts of places. It's weird. We all went to school for 6 years together, and 10 years later, a fucking lifetime, really, I haven't the slightest idea what I would even say to them in a conversation, email or otherwise. Um, how's it going? So I just click the "friend" button and keep moving. I don't know where, if anywhere, it will go after that.

And you know, it does all look better on paper, and yet--I don't know. There's something in "the facts," I guess. It's like this compulsion to know where he or she went to school, where they might be working now, whether or not they're still single, what town they are living in. As though the basics give some deep insight to one's inner workings. Clearly they don't. And with my own info, it's not like I'm bragging. As Jamie said (about herself, but I feel the same way), "What the hell would I say? It's not like my life's such a gem." I mean, we're not complaining, life is pretty good and all, but it's like--whatever delusions we all might have had growing up about Who We'd Be and What We'd Do, clearly none of that ever happened. The big job, the fame, the fortune. What was I dreaming of, anyway. And why did it take so long to sink in that your "average" existence, a spouse, some kids, a home, a pet--the things we grew up with--was all we'd ever have, and all we would ever really want, anyway.

I guess I shouldn't speak for anyone else. And I do still dream. I don't feel like I "sold out" or "gave up" or anything. I feel content, really, when it comes down to it. And then (as an aside) here I am, obsessing these days about How Fast Time Goes, but good god, if high school doesn't feel like it happened another freaking lifetime ago. It almost makes me feel better, just seeing now, today, how much really can happen in 10 whole years, and that it doesn't go by so fast. Not really.

Anyway, I'm not even sure why I'm really doing it--myspace, I mean. Other than that I'm curious about people I've known, on whatever level, and this offers a little something. And if they're curious about me, there I am.

Spinny-eyed, absentee wife of J.Lo, addicted to the myspace. No really, I'm going to go do something different now. Read a book or paint my toenails or something. I mean that.

P.S. if you did add me as a "friend," thank you. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Last Evenings Activities Included

...Making this Tiki Wood Burning. This is a tool I don't use often enough but it seemed so completely appropriate- for a tiki themed baby party, whose child is a boy. I called my friend Beth and she was like, what- no way, i just wood burned my first tiki 3 days ago- Ah, universal thought something-something simultaneous something-something. so cool. I showed it to mom, and she said, well that's why we keep scraps of wood, so don't throw them away, it's maple- no wait she said walnut, whatever.


here's some facts about the tiki: ala Wikepedia
In Māori mythology, Tiki is the first man. In traditions from the East Coast of the North Island, the first human is a woman created by Tāne, god of forests. Usually her name is Hine-ahu-one. In other legends, Tāne makes the first man Tiki, and then makes a wife for him. In some West Coast versions, Tiki himself, as a son of Rangi and Papa, creates the first human by mixing his own blood with clay, and Tāne then makes the first woman. Sometimes Tūmatauenga, the war god, creates Tiki.[1] In another story the first woman is Mārikoriko. Tiki marries her and their daughter is Hine-kau-ataata (White 1887-1891, I:151-152). [2] In some traditions, Tiki is the penis of Tāne (Orbell 1998:178, Tregear 1891:510-511). In fact, Tiki is strongly associated with the origin of the procreative act.[3].

Here is one story of Tiki among the many variants:

Tiki was lonely and craved company. One day, seeing his reflection in a pool, he thought he had found a companion, and dived into the pool to seize it. The image shattered and Tiki was disappointed. He fell asleep and when he awoke he saw the reflection again . He covered the pool with earth and it gave birth to a woman. Tiki lived with her in innocence, until one day the woman was excited by an eel. Her excitement passed to Tiki and the first procreative act resulted (Reed 1963:52).

In Māori usage, the word 'tiki' is also the name given to large wooden carvings in roughly human shape.