Tap Dancing Like Gene Kelly

I got sent home from I* early today. Luis saved my ass because my computer was acting FUNKY and not funky ha ha but funky queer. Turns out I'd had the lock key on so all my function keys weren't functioning right if they were functioning at all! I was googling all sorts of shit. They told me to trash my preferences and check my keyboard and check my language, etc.

Finally, Luis just stood over my keyboard and asked what the "lock" key was. I told him that would be way too easy of a remedy. Of course it was. It fixed everything right off. I was almost near tears over it and then I kept kissing his ass and telling him how happy I was. It was just awful. It slowed my productivity considerably. It was just awful.

It was photo shoot day so there was a breakfast and a lunch. M*ia screwed up our order so I had to wait for my steak sandwich. It was good but extremely messy which I don't like. I like neat food. I hate having to reach for my napkin after every bite I take. All sandwiches are not created equal.

Now I'm all flushed because there were tomatoes in the sandwich. When will I ever learn? It's not like it hurts or anything, but it's about a 1% on the discomfort scale. Enough that I notice it every now and again and hope it goes away soon. Whatever. Poor me. It's not like I'm even that into tomatoes. I mean, I like them, but I don't love them. I could easily pick them off any sandwich or salad. But, I put myself through this misery on a daily basis. So it goes. I'm a fool.

I'm doing okay these days. Okay is the correct word. I'm not tap dancing through the streets like Gene Kelly. I'm also not standing on top of a building looking down like the statue installment in Madison Square Park right now. (That's super eerie I must admit).

Last night, I attended the 6:15 service at the Marble church on Fifth avenue. What a great church; it's very gay friendly. Funny how there are so many different churches. Jesus loves everyone: the pedophiles, the tax men, the homosexuals, etc. I get it. It's not a zero-sum game. It's not "I win you lose." It's "we all win." Why is that so difficult a concept? But, no one has ever fucked me over.

That said, it's difficult to judge others. I keep thinking that about Arizona. How can we judge them when they're up to their eyeballs in people who legally don't belong? San Francisco has a ton of homeless and I think they should indulge in some draconian practices to thin out the ranks a bit. Others from other states could say that's cruel, but damn it! SF's gotta do something! It's really out of control. Easy to point fingers.

Starbucks Gift Cards

I've got my ipod all loaded up with books; I have too many on there right now. I have Gone with the Wind, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, Casino Royale, Some self-help crap about happiness, and Jane Eyre. They're all good but I'm going to be glad when TTOWF is over. It's not a stinker but it's not the best the Bronte sisters ever churned out.

Best to think of the future. Or, better yet, be mindful of what is in front of me. I have my delicious Starbucks beans coffee. People keep giving me big Starbucks gift certificates. I got a $50 card from mom for my birthday! Whoa! That's a nice gift. :) And I got another one in the mail out of nowhere. I wonder if that was supposed to be a gift but there was no note attached. I feel terrible.

There Are So Many Things that Need Doing in the World

Last night, I wrote in my journal for the first time in months/years. It makes me anxious how little I've changed over the years. It fills me with sadness to know that the rest of my life will be filled with the same concerns I've had for years. Four years ago, I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life and I was here in the Bronx. I'm still in the Bronx and I still don't know what I want to do with my life. What am I working toward? I always get sad when I leave the West Coast. I need a back scratch.

I really need to find God. Problem is, he doesn't talk to me. It's like he's some passive ear--maybe I should read more Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. I was reading my Onion lists book and they had a bit on Kurt Vonnegut. It made me tear up. What an amazing man. I'm so glad I wrote him and I'm so glad he wrote me back!! My postcard is one of my most-prized possessions. Good for me it's a postcard.

I will run and finish my book the Tenant of Wildfell Hall. I don't think I ever need to read it again. I don't know how I feel about the characters. I didn't like the main female character but now that I've heard her side of the story, it's all right. Man, there are so many things that need doing in the world.

Portland

I went to Portland and back and didn't really get online much while there. Mom and dad get their wireless connection from the cafe downstairs: Via Delizia. Saturday night, my birthday, we all went there for dinner. Dad and I got the same delicious pasta dish and mom and Jill got some stuff.

Man, did I have a good trip out there. It brings tears to my eyes just thinking of it. Dad picked me up at the airport and I was put up on the third floor. Jill came by for dinner? I can't remember what we had. Something mom made I'm sure. She made a birthday cake of yellow cake with pink frosting--but there wasn't enough frosting so we turned that side to the wall. Jill got a really funny photograph and I'm going to make it into a print.

On Monday morning, dad had to make a trade for a client and then we hit the road in the new car. It's an Audi and I'm campaigning to call her "Gretta." But she'll probably just be the Audi till the day she goes to the scrap heap. She's got quite a computer system so we spent the whole time going up to Oregon playing with the knobs and buttons. Turns out we have Sirius satellite radio for 3 months so we switched back and forth from the 50s radio to the 60s radio and sang along to most of the tunes. What a good time!

We stopped in Corning at the Olive Pit; I got dried mango slices. I bought dad some barbecue almonds. We also stopped in Willows at the Starbucks and had delicious drinks. Man! They always do a good job at the Willows Starbucks.

We stopped in Dunsmuir for lunch and had some delicious sandwiches. Very good. You can still get a house in Dunsmuir for about $79,000 (marked down from $100,000). Too funny. What a sad "downtown."

The condo was very nice. I had a great time hanging out with mom and dad. And then we picked up Jill on Wednesday?

What else did we do? Mom and I went to go see the Pittock mansion. It had an all right view. Most of the furniture was not original to the house but had been donated. They did a good job with the upkeep and the pieces were fantastic. It was worth the $16 I paid for both mom and myself.

Every morning, dad would walk to the nearby Safeway and get coffee and the Wall Street journal for us. That was the best part of the morning. We ate a lot and sat around a lot. On my birthday, dad and I walked to the Dock side inn? I forget what it was called. We had the eggs Benedict. It was where Tanya Harding et. al. got rid of a lot of evidence. Never cut corners! We went back to the condo and watched Casino Royale with Daniel Craig. That afternoon, we walked to Powell's bookstore where I bought a copy of Trollope's The Warden and a paperback of Ian Fleming's Casino Royale.

Packing for Portland

My mouth tastes like ass. I went to the KeyFood to buy some sandwich fixins for the plane tomorrow. I got a couple hoagie rolls and a three pack of lunch meats. I hope it's enough. I was suckered into a package of Archway Frosty Lemon cookies on the way out. They were on sale and I'm already half-way through them. Puke. I think I need some "real" food. I've got that crappy mouth that comes from eating too much sugar and fat and not enough good stuff. I should brush my teeth. ugh.

I'm amazed at how little I've gotten accomplished today. I ran today for 47 minutes so that's good. I went to the grocery store and picked up my laundry. I'm about 80% packed. I'm trying to pack light and it's spring so it's not like I gotta pack tons of shit. I have the feeling the real packing will happen tomorrow. I'll forget something.

This morning, I was a little sad. I kept thinking things like, "What's the point?" and "Where am I headed?" etc. when I kind of stood back mentally and realized what was going on. Just calling attention to the thoughts made me feel better. It was cloudy this morning. I listened to Gone With the Wind on my way to the track. Mom called from her cell phone.

I asked her what she was doing and she said she was driving around with my father looking for me. I told her that my flight wasn't until tomorrow and the best place to look for me would probably be at the airport instead of just randomly driving around. I love how we joke. :) I guess she's getting excited for me to come home. I'm getting excited! Everyone asks if I'm excited about my trip. I say yes for the trip but no to the travel. Although I think it'll be okay. I have my good book and a ton of magazines arrived for me today: Womens Health, The Economist, and Businessweek. Well, Bloomberg's Businessweek.

It's raining a little bit out now. I can see some rain on the window. I like being inside and warm and safe. I'll always be inside and warm and safe. That's a nice thought. I'll always have a nice, warm, safe inside. It almost brings tears to my eyes. :)

I'm going to have to set the alarm for three o'clock. I don't forsee a ton of sleep tonight. That's fine. I'll set five alarms. I remember the one time I did oversleep which was so weird! I slept until about fifteen minutes before I was supposed to leave the house! Of course, it would have all been fine if the trains had run my way, but they didn't. I ended up getting out at Grand Central and catching a cab. It was expensive but it was worth it for my mental health.

I didn't do any marketing today. I suppose I have a couple more hours in the day. I could throw an hour that way. I just frittered the day away on facebook and nonsense like that. I hate myself! It's the worst. At least I did my run and now I'm doing my 750 words. I wonder if I'll do any of it when I get to Portland. Will we all just fight over the computers with nothing to do? I should get a guidebook or something. I suppose I could do a little reading up on Portland tonight. What the heck to see.

I wonder if they have any historical houses to see. I'll bet they do. Maybe a grand house or two. A Hysterical marker. Laura says she wants to come down to NYC and go to Teddy Roosevelt's house--where he was born. Yeah, we should do that.

I just looked up houses. There's one house. Phoey! Weren't there any rich people in Portland?! Guess not. They've got an art museum I have to check out: PAM. Ha! :) I'm looking at their website and it looks like they might have some good stuff. :) I packed my art lens in my bag. Must remember to pack the camera, eh? That wouldn't do.

CARTOON: Tea Parties: What a Difference 237 Years Makes

CARTOON: Tea Parties: What a Difference 237 Years Makes: "Tony Auth's take on the difference between hostility toward taxes then and now:



This feature may not be reproduced or distributed electronically, in print or otherwise without the written permission of uclick and Universal Press Syndicate
"

What do you do when your best days are behind you?

I have to pack. I have to pull the suitcase out from under the bed and put it on top of the bed and start putting things into it. I dropped off some laundry today and will pick it up tomorrow after one o'clock. The white chick was working at the laundromat today. Every now and then there are a couple white chicks who work there. I assume they're the owner. They always want to know if I want to pay in advance. When I do that, no one cancels it out of the computer and it's left there forever until another white chick is there to cancel it out. It's frustrating. Poor me!

I went to the library today and got a book on Truman Capote written/put together by George Plimpton. Father of Martha Plimpton who I had a big resentment against because she was banging River Phoenix that hot piece of ass. May he rest in peace.

What do you do when your best days are behind you? What's the second act? Do you devote yourself to your pottery? I guess you go to Africa and get photographed with starving orphans. That's what I'd do. I'd just travel and live in other countries if I had tons of dough.

I finished the rest of my pumpkin pie

I finished the rest of my pumpkin pie. I was so sad when I finished the last piece. :( It made me want to run out and get ingredients for a new pie. That pie was my little child! It was my creation. And if I can feel that way about a pie! Imagine me with a child or a dog?

I did something that blew me away. On my way home from the library, I allowed myself to go into the bakery near Crosby and buy a cookie. I went in and couldn't decide on what I wanted, so I left!!!! A lot of times, I get one of the big marble cookies and it's too much for me. Which is really weird because cookies are never enough for me! Speaking of which, I think I probably have ingredients for cookies right now if I wanted.

I was futzing with my Jane Eyre mp3s all day when I realized I'd never copied disc six! How will I ever know what happens? I've read the book at least three times in my life. I'm sure I'd be able to figure it out. I know more than two times. I wonder if it's been as much as four or five? How many times have I read the Fountainhead? I don't know. Once in college. Once in New York City. I think each time I read it, it makes more and more sense. I just didn't have the knowledge or context to process it before. Like the first time I picked up Gone with the Wind in the sixth grade. It bored the crap out of me because I had no idea what any of them were talking about!

Clowns Who Drag Weighted Bags Around

Today I went to Pelham Bay Park Track and old-lady yelled at some clowns who were dragging a weighted bag around. On my first lap, I noticed dark tracks in the field--the expensive field. I thought to myself, "Okay, do I say something or not say something and then obsess over it for the rest of my work out?" I decided on the former. I hate obsessing. Sometimes it's easier for me to say something than to not say something.

So on my next lap, I idly jogged over and nicely said I saw a lot of tracks in the field and hoped they weren't ruining it in any way. The "coach" grunted that it was "fine." Okay then! Proceed! Perhaps they were just pulling the bag against the knap. Either way, I kind of felt better just saying something. Let them sort out their consciences. Then I ran around with a sort of glee at myself for saying something. I'm pretty cool today. In my own opinion.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art

I was reading a book on the MET last night by Michael Gross. The introduction was interesting but the rest of it was just "and then this happened....and then this happened...." which I find dull in non-fiction books. Yeah, there's got to be some magic to a non-fiction book or else it's just dates and names. Boring. What makes a good non-fiction book? I don't know. I never read them.

I guess the MET really is financed by private money and subsidized heavily by the city of New York. I didn't know to the extent. Well, I suppose I shouldn't look down on people who pay the minimum anymore (although I think secretly I still will).

Pre Fab Green Energy Efficient Structural Insulated Panel Cottages :: Cottage in a Day®

Pre Fab Green Energy Efficient Structural Insulated Panel Cottages :: Cottage in a Day®

These are surprisingly big. I wish I knew what lake to build one of these on the shores of.

You insult me and my intelligence!

Asking some teenagers to focus on school work is like asking some adults to focus on things when they're hungry and need to go to the bathroom. I couldn't focus on my schoolwork. I'd rather have thought about anything else.

Just hungry. I had a piece of peanut butter toast and a good slice of pie this morning but that's no good. Still a rumbling in the tummy. I hate the word "tummy." I hate the word and I hate "veggie." Bleah. I hate it when magazines use it. Say "vegetables!" How can you claim to be the journalistic elite and use kindergarten words?! You insult me and my intelligence!

The latest Vanity Fair is a travesty too. I should write them a letter. They've gone very low this time with a piece on Tiger Wood's pieces.

Too much nutmeg can ruin any pumpkin pie for sure.

I'm baking a pumpkin pie. I've made the no-roll pie crust that mom makes but I just used a can of Libby's. I didn't even use the plain stuff but got the mix with the sugar and spices within. I'm lazy in some respects. Why do I have to put in the right amount of cinnamon and sugar when they've refined it? The only thing I worry about is too much nutmeg. Too much nutmeg can ruin any pumpkin pie for sure.

Jezebel had their March Madness Pie off. They put pies versus cake and cheese cake won. I'm pretty surprised at that. You'd think it would be apple or chocolate cake but no. Cheese cake is not my favorite dessert but I'll eat it in a pinch. I find it monotonous. I know that every food is monotonous in its own way, but that's the only word I can think of to describe cheesecake.


I hope this pie turns out okay. I put it in for about 15 minutes longer than it said to but it was just so mushy on the top. Well, the knife came out relatively clean so I guess it should be okay. It cooks a bit after it comes out. I always tell mom that. She's always heavily browning cookies.

It's so lovely in the apartment today. I went for my run and they threw away my bottle of water AGAIN!! Lucky for me they've turned on the water fountains again. I guess it got close to ninety yesterday! Whew! I was running around in it in the early morning.

Old Friends

I'm tired today. I took an earlier train than usual back from Connecticut. Typically, I come back in the early afternoon, but I was put on the 12:15 p.m. train and I was ready. Laura came down on Friday night and I met up with her at first Soho meeting. I got there a little late. She was sitting with Felicia. While we were sitting there, Dave B. came in. He figured it out that he hadn't seen her in ten years. She left in 2002. I got a couple great shots of them at Tre Giovanni. Does Dave B. take a bad picture?

911 Is a Joke In Your Town

911 is a joke in your town. I love this Public Enemy song. Get up and get down. This is a good album with some real stand-out tracks.

I went through some CL listings. Man, just searching for a job is depressing as fuck. Ugh. It makes me want to dive into bed and pull the covers over my head. What the hell am I doing with my life? Where am I going? Bleah!

I put my hair in french braids. I haven't done that in awhile. My hair is rarely long enough anymore to do it. The long hair with blunt-cut bangs seems to be in these days. It's like the silk spectre in The Watchmen movie.

Subways stations have the new lighted boards up telling you when the next train's gonna come. In the olden days, we just wondered! :) They should put the signs outside the stations so you know when you have to run or not: not inside the stations when you've already paid your fare and are trapped.

Butterbeans and Susie are silly. I have two of their CDs and all of their songs sound exactly alike. Although I do like them. I had a cassette tape of Bessie Smith and I wore that fucker out.

The only people happy in this world are the unibombers living alone.

I'm trying to cut back on my eating. Yesterday and today I only had one piece of peanut butter toast. Yesterday, I went to the Broadway Cafe on Fifth for lunch. I went to the cold buffet and spent about $5.50 on all sorts of delicious things. And I forced myself to sit there and eat slowly and carefully and put down my plastic ware between bites. I spent 27 minutes (by my ipod) eating that amount of food. And I was full! I got full because I didn't bolt it down. In fact, I left a boiled egg for last and only ate the white parts. I suppose that's the most fatty and evil part.

For dinner, I got a slice of pizza and ate that slowly and surely. That got cold and greasy and unappetizing pretty quickly, but I finished it because I knew that was that. And it was filling too. I'm going to keep trying this small portions and slow eating. Maybe I can lose a little of the 8 pounds I've put on this year. Of course, that 8 pounds is the only thing that's keeping me from finding true love! It's not my terrible personality or my flat chest!

Ran today. It was warm and sunny at the track. Sometimes it gets too warm and I have to be careful. I get overheated and my bowels go into retreat. That happened to me last year and I ended up starting to run at night.

My back's killing me. I had one of those patented back cramps that lasts for days. It happened while I was at the KeyFood the other day. I was carrying home two heavy bags of groceries. But that's probably a coincidence. It just happens; it doesn't matter when. I remember when it once happened in quick succession, I got one and then another one the next day. That was the worst! Two nights ago, I couldn't sleep that well because every time I moved or tried to roll over, I'd have shooting pain in my body that would wake me up. Last night was a little better, but not much.

Yesterday, I had a realization that I need to get a real job. It just struck me. I need to get one of those fucking tablet things that everyone swears by. I'm sure once I use one for awhile, I'll swear by it too. Fucking cult of tablet!

I wasn't angry this morning when I was running around at the track. I noticed that. Typically, I'm pissy about something. Today, I was having very neutral thoughts. I can tell it's good if I'm thinking about celebrities or literature or movies or things like that. Things that don't matter at all. I wonder if it's because I didn't have ANYTHING to eat this morning. Typically, I have a cup of coffee and a couple Hershey's kisses. But I hadn't had anything since six o'clock the evening before.

I feel like I'm wasting time. I'm not doing the things I'm supposed to be doing: I'm not buying or renovating a house, I don't have a real job, I don't have a husband or children or even a dog or a plant. Am I part of the solution or am I part of the problem? I guess everyone has thoughts like these--but different. If they have a house, they wonder if they wasted their money. If they have a spouse, they compare and despair with other spouses. If they have children they compare and despair also. Everyone has his or her secret hell that s/he's not willing to admit to in any forum. You move up a level and it's just more problems.

I'm such an asshole sometimes. The only people happy in this world are the uni-bombers living alone.

That's The Way Stealing Works

Man oh Man. Just got a book on the GRE. Barron's 2008 to be precise. I was leafing through the questions and man, some of them are really difficult. I'm going to University of Phoenix I can tell! I better start reading the Economist cover to cover. I'm such a sucky reader. I rarely read the good stuff. I just read blogs and half a paragraph of a newspaper article.

It looks as though there's not as much math as I feared. That's nice. I'll have to see how much math there is. I'm still enjoying my math and will probably continue with it until I think it's not necessary. Math is a good skill to have. To what end I have no idea. What's a calculator for?

I was thinking about values and choices today; If we make a choice, we therefore think it's the "right" thing to do. If someone else makes a different choice, we get upset (slightly to very) because it's not "right."  But we all have to justify and rationalize our choices in life--so we consider everyone else's choices wrong or less than. If we know that we're doing something wrong, and we do it any way, we have to rationalize and justify that, too. I think it has something to do with cognitive dissonance. I have to look that up. Knowing one thing and doing another stresses us out; we don't like it. So we rationalize and justify. Of course, if someone else does something other than what we're doing, they're wrong. And that makes it all right again. Because we can't possibly be "wrong" if what we think we're doing is "right."

And it just makes us all miserable. For example, I was reared on farm time. Up with the dawn and to bed after dusk. Early to bed and all that rot. So if someone sleeps all day and stays up all night, there's something wrong with that. S/he is lazy and unambitious. And being unambitious is the worst thing in the world. Because if you're up with the rooster, you're on the right track. The early bird gets the worm. Which is more and more difficult as the world gets more and more flat. Not only do you have to compete with everyone locally, you have to compete with everyone nationally and internationally. I have to compete with photo retouching firms in India. All I have against that is a name and a number and some skill. And a price.

I let myself down constantly. Every day I say I'll do something and every day I don't do it. And that gets me down. Especially on myself. It's the only thing I want to do and I don't do it. What an un-rich life I'm leading. I live the life of a nun up here in the Bronx. I always thought it would be cool to retire to some female community and I realized I'm already there! I live my spartan little life. I make my bed and do the dishes and make sure there's enough toilet paper in the bathroom.

Chris emailed me today. He evidently had a small charge on his credit card and thought it might be me. It was on itunes; someone had charged a buck to make sure it was a viable credit card.  That's a proper fraud right there. I told him it wasn't me, but I'm sure even if it was me, I'd tell him it wasn't me. That's the way stealing works.

The Tale of Scrotie McBoogerballs

Today is passover. Well, according to my calendar. It starts at sundown and there's a full moon. And it's rainy out.

Roommate made dinner last night. They made a delicious strawberry and arugula salad, pork chops, roasted vegetables, cous cous, and strawberry rhubarb pie for dessert -- plus ice cream. I had seconds on everything except for the pie. I felt pretty gluttonous afterward and decided I'd try to never do anything like that again. And I'm not running today because it's cloudy out. I was hungry at the time, though. I'd been told there was going to be a big dinner so I'd eaten accordingly. I'd had a slice before going to the MET and then a cookie at Tim Horton's after the MET because I had a huge pastry craving. Man, me and my sugar cravings. They're going to get me into a lot of trouble.

I'm listening to a couple audiobooks now. Horns by Joe Hill. The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Bronte, and Too Big to Fail by who knows. I was really enjoying Horns yesterday when I was listening to the first disc. He's a good writer--although a disgusting one. I've read some of his earlier stuff and it felt like reading The Tale of Scrotie McBoogerballs (just watched that South Park episode the other night). So much modern literature feels like The Tale of Scrotie McBoogerballs. I'm sick of feeling nauseated all the time. No wonder I go blissfully back to the Victorians! No sex. Very little violence. No bodily functions. That's a reason I don't like new books based in the past: it's all the affected language (badly) and all the pissing and puking and raping you'd want. I go back to Jane Eyre and am refreshed anew. I'm sure all that terrible stuff happened, I just don't want to read about it.

Speaking of The Tale of Scrotie McBoogerballs, I don't understand how come everyone gives Sarah Jessica Parker such grief about her looks. I think she's perfectly pleasing to look at. You'd think she was a monster, though. Poor thing. Hell, I'm much uglier than Sarah Jessica Parker. People are so cruel. I don't understand their cruelty. Just terrible. Why are people so wounded, that they're so cruel? I don't get that either. Maybe Freud was on to something with our mothers. I'll have to do some research into that.

I don't know what I want to do with my life. Everyone wants to write; everyone wants to be a studio musician. Everyone wants to have a piece at the MOMA. I was reading Sherlock Holmes last night and he said some pertinent things. Something about genius. Genius is just paying attention to crap that no one else wants to pay attention to. Genius is just practice practice practice. I agree with that.

This is Not My Beautiful House; This is Not My Beautiful Wife

I wish I was really clever. I wish I was really smart. I wish I was really something in some way--better than everyone else. But I've learned that I'm not. I'm really special to Tresa and Jim because I'm their daughter, but when they die, I'll be a nobody. And I don't know how I feel about that. I guess, as a Christian, I'm a somebody in the eyes of the Lord. Jesus loves me. And I kind of believe that. Like, if I were to stand on a bridge, threatening to jump, there would be some people who honestly didn't want me to do it. Morbid I should go there.

Oh well, people have different families. Mine was WASP WASP WASP although you wouldn't know it. Neither family were anything other than farm folk and/or blue collar. Well, Jim went to an Ivy-League school for his MBA. He must have found some class there. Tresa was a good girl from Kaiser Oregon. She went to University. They both did. They were classy people. And then they went to Kenilworth: forgetaboutit! WASP central. And they reared two little WASPs. Although Jill and I aren't really WASPy anymore--except for our shells. Or our inner-most parts. I know I'm very WASPy.

I should just come to grips that I'm going to be alone for the rest of my life. It would be one thing if I just knew it: like giving up booze or chocolate cake. But not to know on a day-to-day basis. That's the misery of it--to always have hope.

(this is not my beautiful house; this is not my beautiful wife)

Ad Nauseam Ad Infinitum

I listened to the bugle podcast. I'm going to weep the day that's no longer. It's so great. It's such a Friday treat. Well, more of a Saturday treat as that's when I listen to it. Today they had on the American (some anonymous comic) who comes on and plays a dumb American from Jersey or wherever. He was weighing in on the new health bill.

I keep getting phantom pangs that I think are hunger. So I've decided to sip water every single time I want to run into the kitchen to eat something. I should cut down on all the sugar I eat. I eat a ton of sugar and fast food. I'm always eating out and about and it's always pizza and junk food like that. I don't like to cook just for me so it's processed crap mostly.

I always like a little Victorian literature kicking about, so yesterday when I was at the library I got a Sherlock Holmes book. How come no one is named Sherlock. Were people used to be named Sherlock? Is what I just wrote a proper sentence? Probably not. I also got a couple Wooster and Jeeves books. Good stuff! Why would I want to listen to anything else? I like the dramatics: the fireplace sounds and the people coming in and leaving rooms.

*sip* I want to eat more. *sip* but I'm not hungry so I just keep sipping and sipping. Which sucks because it will mean I'll have to go to the bathroom more. And I really don't enjoy the whole process of going to the bathroom. First, it's the growing discomfort. And then, you have to get up and go. And if you drink a lot of water, you have to repeat it ad naueseum infinitum.

Team Teal

I'm on Team Teal! :) I like lots of color, but some more than others. If given my druthers, all things being equal, I'd choose something red or blue. Probably not yellow or orange. Although I like those colors, just not on my person. I like green, too. I like the red/green pairing, although it's very Christmasy to get away with it any other time. Too bad! Why does Christianity have to ruin all the best color schemes?

Just like WASPs ruined pink and green! A great color combo but you'd think I was on my way to the tennis club.

shared image :: young me now me photo contest :: zefrank.com

shared image :: young me now me photo contest :: zefrank.com

All Insult to Injury

I did some maths. I re-did the exercises from yesterday that I sucked at. And this is what I did: I read the fucking manual already. Yesterday, I skimmed the instructions, but today I read them out loud in full voice. It helped tremendously.

Last night, I watched the movie Precious illegally online. I found some site at random and could watch it in pretty good form. I watched it full screen with no interruption. So yeah: that was a powerful movie. I have no problems today. None at all. I really do have no problems.

I seem to have a hacking cough. I wonder if it's the cold come back or whether it's the moldy hall stairs. I closed the door because I wasn't crazy about it left wide open. So now I can't breathe and my throat's all raw. So it goes. Must have choices in life. Yesterday and yesterday evening it poured outside. Man! I thought the sky had opened up. I was working on a boat but the ceiling didn't leak.

The Health Care bill passed. It's elicited some controversy on the net. I have my own, conflicting views on it. More will be revealed.

Andrew W.K. is kind of annoying. Some of his stuff I like but some of it is just too too (as Oscar Wilde would say it). I didn't know that Stephen Fry is the lead in that movie: now I really want to see it. Maybe I'll request it from the library. Maybe I'll also request Capote again. I liked that movie. I saw it in the movie theater. No, I think it was the new Pink Panther with Steve...shoot, who is that actor? I'm blanking on his name. Martin! That's his name. And then, to add insult to injury, I saw it on a plane again. Well, it was showing on a plane. Of all the movies to show on a plane: I never go to the movies, but they had to show one movie I'd already seen. So it goes.

Key Lime Pie

I finally had a slice of the Key Lime pie. It was frozen in the freezer. I had to cut the saran wrap and it took me awhile to cut and hack it out. But I had a bit. It was pretty sour but also pretty delicious. I keep being reminded of the Key Lime episodes in Dexter with that horrible woman in records. God, I hated those hospice scenes. Anyway, he finally kills her off with a slice of key lime pie. Dexter asks Deb if she knows of any good key lime pie places; she tells him about all the local places it's just "sour dog shit." I love Deb. She's one of the best characters on that show.

I went into town this morning. Well, I got up at six this morning and went to the track for 45 minutes. It was foggy and drizzly and it full-on rained a couple times. One time it was really towards the end of my run so I just put on my jacket and walked home in it. My jacket and vest were on the fence where I left them, but my water bottle was missing. I thought, "Well, maybe I didn't take it to the track today." But when I got home, it wasn't here either. It was then that I remembered the guy picking up litter. Man, for a state that's out of money, we still have people to pick up our parks. I love it! I love Pelham Bay Park. In the summer, weekends are like Woodstock. It's packed! And Monday morning by noon you'd think it was the windswept moors of Yorkshire. Pristine as Summer's dawn it is.

I listened to a bit of The Moon and Sixpence. Good book. Interesting perspective. It makes me want to watch "Vincent and Theo" again. Must stay focused. I'm also enjoying the Jeeves and Wooster audio books and dvds. I'm watching the Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry shows on netflix. Fantastic. They do a good job. Although of course they have to give Stephen Fry more of a part than he actually has in the books. In the books, it's all about Bertie Wooster and his thoughts.  I want to live in a Bertie Wooster novel. I wish I had no problems other than my Aunt Agatha and her marriage pursuits for me. I tried watching some episodes of HOUSE but I just don't like his character. I guess he's supposed to be an asshole, but I don't like assholes much. I don't aspire to be one. And even if I aspired to be one, I wouldn't want to be like any other asshole before me. It's not like I'm taking notes when I watch.

Augusten Burroughs and Prime Numbers

I finished Dry by Augusten Burroughs last night. It was pretty good. I read it to the very last paragraph--which is extremely rare for me. It's very rare that I finish a book and not do a little-to-a lot of skimming towards the end. Things tend to bore me pretty quick: and it's not like I'm some super brain. It's just that most tales have been told. And the ones that have been new and quick have been in our collective unconscious for years. There is nothing new under the sun.


He mentions what it's like to smoke crack and I could imagine it. Maybe I'd get hooked on that if someone let me try it. I know I got hooked immediately on The Sims when I went to visit Betsy K in 2001. Man, what a summer! I was hooked on that game.

I started to do some math yesterday and got a little bit stuck on the prime numbers. I think I was making it more difficult that it actually was/is. I went online and found some tutorials and some exercises and figured it out. I took the questions again and got 100%! I'm so smart. :) I figured out prime numbers.

Running

RUNNING: 45 minutes

Lots of people at the track. Only a few were keeping up. I'm the turtle: I do that steady 45 minutes jog. Other people were flying past me--once. :) That makes me laugh. Yeah, running in the hot sun is difficult. There was one woman who was outdoing me. She looked like a real runner. I had no shame by being outpaced by her. She looked like she knew what she was doing. I had little kids walk past me: but I kept up a good pace and left satisfied after 45 minutes. No shame in my game.

Your cold

If you manage to bring your cold up in every conversation, you're a tool.

Cheating

Just thinking of Sandra Bullock. Won for best actress and her husband was cheating on her. Son of a bitch. I hate that clown. I liked them as a couple, too. What a tool. What a cheat! It's making big news on the internets today; it'll die down tomorrow or the next day. We all know about cheating. Guys cheat. It's really kind of depressing. Hollywood is terrible. Politics is terrible. Mark Sanford? The Governor who went to Argentina and lied to everyone and spent money that wasn't his. Rielle Hunter and the John Edwards love child. I hope she gets a clue soon. The GQ interview made her sound terrible. Poor kid but she's 50% both so she's already a mess from day one.

That's mean; we always say it's terrible to say bad things about kids, but they always grow up to be adults. And very few of them take the veil or the cloth.

I see them once and I never see them again.

I was reading about some celebrity today who is on Lexapro and a spinach diet. I could be on Lexapro and a spinach diet. That would make me happy. It's used to treat anxiety. She probably took coke once (or many times) and got anxious and needed to go to the doctor. I can't throw any stones.

Had a great run this morning. Of course, since the weather's fantastic, everyone was out at the track. There was one guy who was forcing himself to sprint even though he was terribly out of shape. There's always one guy who remembers his high school track days. Dude, those days are over. It sucks but you gotta work your way up to running. I just want to trip those guys. I see them once and I never see them again.

Josh Greenberg, on Facebook, says he had a Shamrock Shake. I assume from McDonald's. I can't remember the last time I had one: probably my childhood if that. It could be a false memory. I know we never went to McDonald's. Well, the one in Singapore we went. But in Kenilworth, the one in Winnetka opened when I was in high school or something. I can count on one hand how many times we went there when I was a child. One hand. 

I leave the room and everyone takes a deep breath

It's time for me to write. I didn't sleep very well last night. I even got into my work out clothes to sleep in. I put my alarm clock/phone in my bag across the room so I'd have to get up to turn it off.

But I just didn't sleep well. I had to keep listening to audio books, which isn't so bad, but I was stressed out about my getting enough sleep. I mostly have a sleep surplus. I sleep by myself and am relatively unbothered during the night. I can deal with one day of poor sleep. It's two days that starts to get to me. So, at some point in the evening, I made an executive decision that I wouldn't get up at five and go to the track. It's just so GD cold and so warm under the covers.

So once again I've gravely disappointed myself. Unfortunately, I'm getting so used to it. From now on, I should just tell myself I'm not going to do any morning workouts. Period. End of story why try? If it happens spontaneously it will be a wonderful thing, but if not? So it goes.

I finished Running with Scissors last night. I liked his epilogue and requested Dry from the library so I should receive that any day to start on. I want to know what happens! What a terrible family. I don't like them and I'd run away and far too. I don't like messy people who vandalize and are rude. I guess I'm an uptight square but I'm willing to own up to that.

The house is waking up. I should take a shower now if I'm really smart. What I really need to do is put the headphones on. I think I smell like sweat from sleeping in my dirty work out clothes. God I'm a slob! I'm probably one of those people who always smells bad but doesn't know it! I've got halitosis and body odor and no one wants to sit next to me in a theater but everyone's too polite to say anything. I leave the room and everyone takes a deep breath.

After finishing Running with Scissors, I cracked open Welty's The Optimist's Daughter. Man, that's a downer. I wasn't feeling it so just skipped to the end. So, I didn't really read it. There wasn't enough story for me. A good book has to be half poetry half story. Or 75% story and 25% poetry. All the King's Men is 80% prose poetry. I've never read a better-crafted book. What a book! Well, I've read a ton of great books. But that one just brings tears to my eyes with the writing.

This morning, I took the mug Chris gave me off the shelf to put my coffee in. I was never that crazy about it, but my boyfriend gave it to me so I dutifully used it. But now, he's no longer my boyfriend. I put it back on the shelf and used the Starbucks mug GI Joe sent me from Kuwait. I like that one a lot. I like the humor in it. I like the story. I like things with stories.

Today, I'm going down to I__ and then I'm going to try to go to that Women's meeting. I need to make more friends. I need to get out into the world and not sit in front of the computer or the television screen. I sent out some marketing emails yesterday and got a small nibble. An extremely kind photographer told me that he sometimes was swamped with some little jobs that maybe I could help him with. And at the end of the conversation, he just thanked me for the great conversation. It always heartens me to talk to really kind people.

Right now, I'm listening to the Moon and Sixpence. The Gauguin character is a big asshole and there's this other character who is just way too nice to him. He's treated poorly by the Gauguin character but keeps taking it. I hope that I don't take stuff like that.

Everyone loves Catcher in the Rye.

 I didn't go up to CT because my voice was whack. Yesterday morning, after a whole 24 hours of rain, I walked into a sodden living room. The roof leaked all over the rug and chair. The television and the couch were spared, but the rest of the room was pretty wet. I called Joan and asked her if she was ready for a miserable morning. She said, "No." But she and Bill came up and dealt with it: God bless 'em.

Elisa came home and freaked out; she kind of cleaned up the place. She brought over a de-humidifier from her mother's house. I had to get out of the house because I had some cabin fever. I decided to go to the 3:00 p.m. Womens Meeting at The Mustard Seed on East 37th street.

So, I went to the womens meeting and it was just terrible. There was a homeless woman there who just wanted to be out of the rain. There's a lot of that going on these days. With the rain coming down and all. She was muttering to herself and getting up and playing with the lights and stuff. Two women walked out. I didn't blame them. When it was her turn to share during the round robin, it was just a schizophrenic rant laced with begging for twenty dollar bills.

It was over quickly so I walked over to the McDonald's to have a shake but they weren't making them. There have been a lot of ads for Fillet-o-Fishes so I ordered one of those instead--even though I didn't really want one. I just had some time to kill and an empty stomach. They'd closed down the downstairs and there was only one huge booth to sit in. Another guy sat down to share my booth (always socially awkward) and he started to pick up on me.  I just told him I was having a bite but was getting up to leave. So I had to get up and leave when I hadn't even finished my sandwich. A true Holden Caulfield moment I guess. Everyone loves Catcher in the Rye.

Didn't Pay the Cable Bill

Maybe I shouldn't pay any attention to any thought I have before noon. Whenever I'm feeling anything, I should look at my watch and see if it's noon yet. If not, out it goes as pointless.

I didn't have the ipod on shuffle so have been listening to songs I haven't listened to since early January. One by one. It was a walk down memory lane. I was listening to  new songs for a long time so the old ones fell by the wayside. I like having the ipod on the other side of the room instead of having music steaming through my computer. Less likely I'll turn it off for something else.

I didn't go for a run today; the rain's been lashing the windowpane all day. ALL DAY. Since I got up this morning at eight o'clock. I keep checking the weather and it always looks like it's about to quit and then another huge, red-and-green-and yellow cloud shows up.

I've done a little bit of work today. I keep meaning to turn off the computer and go read the ever-increasing stack of magazines on my dresser. I always want to spend more time at home and then when I'm here I'm just checking facebook on the regular. I spend more time with old friends than with making new ones. There's something wrong with me! :) Well, there's lots wrong with me. Jill imed me. I think she's in Merced or something. I dunno. On a bike tour. Mom and I had a good talk this morning, even though my voice is now at fifty percent. I should remember that the voice is out for the count for three days if I get sick. It's no joke. I can't remember the last time I lost my voice. I know I lost it while I was at Willis so that was 2007.  I know I've had colds since then. There's no rhyme or reason to it. So it goes.

Drinking a diet coke. I had three hot dogs for lunch and that seemed to satisfy me.

I got the cablevision bill this morning. Evidently I didn't pay the bill last month! Whoa! How did that happen?! So I cut another check this morning I hope everything works out okay. That's not really like me but shit happens. I'm not perfect. I get distracted by things. Lucky for us it's not cut off. I don't know when it gets cut off. They should send a warning at least. Right? We haven't gotten that yet.

It's the Good Ship Robert E. Lee

It's raining out; pretty heavy. Lucky for me I was smart and went out for my run earlier--before the rain began. At the park, I saw a lot of Canadian Geese and one was stymied by some plastic Easter grass crap that hobbled him/her. Too bad I couldn't let him/her know I'd love to release him/her from the plastic shackles. I hope that when it flies, it loosens and falls a bit.

I'm learning that we're really a terrible genus. Or species. What was I listening to? Some Erich From book (Erich Fromm The Art of Being). It's not that great. I have a difficult time following it.  He's no Dale Carnegie. I love Dale Carnegie--that traveling shyster salesman! Although even traveling salesmen can know a little bit. Dale Carnegie's books are a lot like the Big Book Alcoholics Anonymous. They're all the same: riddled with truth and beauty.

I'm also listening to The Moon and Sixpence by M. Somerset Maugham. I'm sure I got his name wrong. Of Human Bondage is one of my all-time favorites so I thought I'd give it a go. Hell, it's free off enypl.org.  The price was/is right. The guy who reads it is the same guy who read David Copperfield. Funny how I get used to voices. I don't know if I could listen to Jim Dale (who reads the Harry Potter books) do anything other than Harry Potter. Well, I've listened to Jim Dale read Alice in Wonderland and Around the World in 80 Days--just because he reads them!

Alice in Wonderland isn't necessarily my favorite book, but it's a cultural touchstone that I think everyone should have some passable knowledge of. The Cheshire Cat. The Mad Hatter. I wasn't crazy about Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland. What a piece of fan fiction garbage was that? Thank goodness I saw it in 3D. At least I have that.

So sensitive lately. Take a lot of things personally. Laura says I'm like Bambi: Yes, that's a very good analogy. I'm taking off the training wheels but I'm 13 years behind everyone else. Everyone else has been roughened by this world and I'm just pink and sensitive--emerging from the cocoon. I really do fantasize about going to New Orleans and getting a small apartment in the Quarter and eating red beans and rice and getting a job with Lucky Dogs. I want to live in a shotgun house like Ignatius and his mother.

Running with Scissors

I'm reading Running with Scissors. Man, he's real brutal with the sex stuff. Bleah. I can't believe that stuff happened and the family who he supposedly lived with has sued him. I'd like to know what's the truth. Do I believe that he had sex with a 33-year-old man when he was 13? Yeah. I do. I do believe that. I believe there are some kooky people out there. I believe in adultery and underage sex and little kids with hard-ons. I used to babysit for a couple kids on Ivy Court and the younger one would walk around holding his penis. Sex sex sex. Sex. God, I'm sick of it.

The Library of Youth

I can't talk today; I have no voice. I started losing my voice yesterday when I was at the R* Museum of Art doing data entry. They'd had some volunteer come in and blaze through all the data forms I typically do, so they gave me  some little comp cards that didn't take very long. I'd forgotten my badge and remembered on the six train. Oh well, I'm one of those assholes I hate!

So, I dutifully did my data entry and some other little project that L gave me to do. And I was out early. I wandered up to 23rd street to see if the library branch was open and it was! Most library branches are open later on one evening a week. It was full of the homeless Orwell was talking about! Killing time til the shelter opens. What a crappy life. It smelled in there and there was no place to sit that wasn't right next to a bum reading a paper. That branch doesn't have particularly great books. None of the branches do: but all in all they have a great selection. The NYPL has such a great collection of books. Thank goodness for the internet to request them. :) What if it was the only branch in town.

I wonder if I could have gotten books from other branches when we lived in Illinois. There was only the Winnetka branch; and I guess we used to go to the Wilmette branch too. I'm having a difficult time picturing the Winnetka branch other than the adult section. And the exciting sex section. I'm sure it would be boring as heck now, but I remember there was a book on prostitution through the ages or something like that. Oh! How I longed to go through that book page by page! But I was too shy.

Exaggeration

I exaggerate a lot. I have a problem with it. I love hyperbole and speaking ironically in black and white terms. If someone likes something, I tell them, "You love that! You won't shut up about it!" And if someone pooh poohs something, I say, "Okay, I know you hate it, but..." it's terrible, really. I should stop. But I hope that people know what I mean.

Silver baby come to me. I'll always hold you in my dreams. I bought this album on half.com. I told L* at I* about half.com and he thought it was great. I told him that I loved The Fountainhead and he couldn't believe it. I guess he thinks I'm some big communist and I'm not. David liked it and he's a communist.

I like all this British crap I'm listening to. I like the Wodehouse. I didn't realize he was so prolific. Martin Jarvis is pretty good but there are very few bad readers I've found. Some people can do a ton of voices which is just fantastic. Patrick Tull, who narrates Down and Out by Orwell, can do all sorts of accents: French, Russian, Irish, Posh British, cockney, I think American but don't hold me to that.

Everybody Sucks

I listened to Down and Out in Paris and London all day at work today and I really enjoyed it. Orwell is such a good writer. I should get a biography although history books have always bored me. I tried to read the People's History of the United States and I just got bored around the Revolutionary War. I get it: white people suck. And then I read The House at Sugar Beach and black people suck too. Every body sucks so much ass. You'd think we'd learn after awhile but no. We never learn anything.

Mad Men and Ghost Whisperer

Last night, I watched the season premier of Ghost Whisperer and a Mad Men episode.  Anyway, where was I? Took a coffee break to think about Mad Men and its characters. Life was tough back then, eh? What else? What else? Going to go see The Wolfman tonight with Chris. It got terrible reviews but he still wants to see it so...so it goes. I like my horror Victorian--although early Victorian is my preference. :) Last night, I was pretty scared by the Ghost whisperer.

I'm also reading The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler. I think I've read it before: some of it seems familiar. I'm like that with mysteries and horror books. I have no recollection. I re-read Salem's Lot cover to cover and only one passage made me realize I'd read it before. Odd how some books, like the Good Earth, stick with me immediately and I can remember I read it forever. A is for Alibi gets a pass. And I enjoyed that series! Maybe it's time to re-visit them. I did like Kinsey Milhone.

3/4/10

I got home late last night from Intergroup. I had a couple okay phone calls. One was a woman calling from Florida. I guess she was having a difficult time finding a resource down there in Florida. She'd picked up after 10 years and was feeling a lot of shame about it. I didn't really know what to say or do. I didn't know what she wanted, frankly. The other night, I talked some newcomer's head off when really he just wanted to know where a meeting was at. Well, live and learn.

topic_music: newyorker.com

I used to love her. Stories like this make me kind of sad; like they're bag ladies somewhere.

Suzanne Vega went to see her dentist the other day, in Greenwich Village, and afterward she had a late lunch by the window at the Cornelia Street Café, an old Village haunt where she first got noticed as a singer-songwriter, in the early eighties.

“Apparently, I’m grinding my teeth in my sleep,” she said, after ordering a latte, “so my dentist fitted me for one of those”—she cupped her fingers around her mouth—“things.” Isn’t teeth grinding related to tension? “Uh, could be,” she replied, in a tone that signified “duh.” It’s not so much her new project, “Suzanne Vega Close-Up,” that’s making her tense; it’s that she’s paying for it herself.
Vega explained that a couple of years ago, after she was dropped by her record label, “I noticed that a lot of artists, like Carly Simon and Dar Williams, were recording acoustic versions of their songs, which is a way of owning the masters. You don’t own the original recordings, but at least you own something.” So Vega saved up some money, and in the past year she has rerecorded about seventy of her songs, among them the hits “Luka” and “Tom’s Diner,” and other gems, like “Small Blue Thing” and “Bound.” Over the next two years, she will release a series of four collections of songs grouped not by era but by theme; the first volume, “Love Songs,” will come out in time for Valentine’s Day. “We’ll sell it off iTunes and our Web site, which will allow us to collect e-mail addresses, so when I want to release an album of new material we’ll know who the audience is,” she said, removing a navy cardigan and revealing a purple tunic underneath.
Vega was born in 1959 and raised in what was then called Spanish Harlem, and she thought that her stepfather, Edgardo, who was born in Puerto Rico, was her birth father until she was nine, when her parents set her straight. “With a face like this, I guess I would have figured it out eventually,” she said, framing her pale-skinned, blue-eyed countenance with her fingers. She attended P.S. 179, where she remembers being the only kid in class who could read. In second grade, she moved into a gifted-and-talented program at P.S. 163, where her teacher, Miss Feuerstein, encouraged her to write stories; she wrote several about an imaginary goat.* She attended the High School of Performing Arts (her fifteen-year-old daughter, Ruby, is a student there) and then went to Barnard College.
Her stepfather had a guitar in the house and would sing Lead Belly and Pete Seeger songs. Suzanne was eleven when she picked it up, and everyone told her how natural she looked with the guitar in her hands, so she learned some chords. There was a book of pop hits around the house; she remembered learning “Sunny”: “I liked the jazzy chords in that.” She was fourteen when she wrote her first song, and by the time she was sixteen she had about fifty. She played in coffee shops on the Upper West Side, where she met some people who told her about the Songwriters Exchange at the Cornelia Street Café.

• from the issue
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“It was just this room back then,” she said, looking around. “We’d all cram in here and listen to each other.” After shows, she’d take names to add to her mailing list; when thirty people showed up at one of her first solo gigs, at Folk City, the owner of the club was impressed. She was signed by A. & M., and her first album, “Suzanne Vega” (1985), reinvented a pop archetype—the female singer-songwriter—that artists like Tracy Chapman and Sinéad O’Connor soon benefitted from. Her second album, “Solitude Standing” (1987), went platinum. Commercially, it was pretty much downhill from there.
“Now I’m back to where I started from,” she said. “Taking names, making mailing lists. I’ve taken on this somewhat risky thing, but it’s a relief not to have to deal with a record company, and their A.D.D. attention spans.” She picked up a forkful of salad. “At this moment, I feel at peace with it—I’ve let it all go.” She flung her arms out, pushing whatever tension was in her jaws away from her, and sending a piece of lettuce flying across the table. ♦

*Correction, February 11, 2010: Vega first attended P.S. 179, not P.S. 163, as originally stated. She then moved into a gifted-and-talented program at P.S. 163, not P.S. 161, as originally stated.

Read more: http://www.newyorker.com/talk/2010/02/15/100215ta_talk_seabrook#ixzz0gMIXdPuk

Things that Annoy Me Today

People who talk loudly on their phones on the subway
Subway trains that go too slowly
People who relax their sphincters on subway cars
Children who play plastic kazoos on subway cars
Guardians who don't police their noise-making children
People who pick at their fingers (guilty)
People who don't see everything as I see it at all times.

littlehope.jpg (image)

littlehope.jpg (image)

Fake AP Stylebook Steers You Completely Wrong — With Style | Epicenter | Wired.com

Fake AP Stylebook Steers You Completely Wrong — With Style | Epicenter | Wired.com

This made me lol out loud!

Step Closer Instead of Cropping for More Interesting Photos [Photography Tip]

Step Closer Instead of Cropping for More Interesting Photos [Photography Tip]: "

Nowadays, we can do so much photo editing after the fact that we often don't realize what a difference framing makes. Despite what you may think, stepping forward will probably be better than cropping later (or digital zoom) when taking photos.

Photo by ralphbijker.

Helen Bradley explains on her Pro Photo Blog:

If there is one technique most digital camera users can use today to instantly improve their photos it is to stand at least two or three steps closer to their subject. Most photographers stand too far away from their subjects so the subject ends up being very small relative to the rest of the photo. When you move closer to your subject you make them larger in the viewfinder so they fill the photograph.

When you're taking a picture of an actual object, like a person, a tighter photo is far more interesting and dramatic than one with lots of background. In the age of digital cameras many of us less seasoned professionals often think that we can just crop and zoom after the fact, but that isn't necessarily so—cropping and digital zooming do not achieve the same effect as actually getting the lens closer to the subject (note that optical zooming does work, in this case—most cameras have both, so if you have to use the zoom, make sure you're using the right one). Got any other tips for more interesting photos? Share them in the comments!

Better Photos Tip #8 - Take 2 steps forward [Pro Photo Blog via Lifehacker Australia]

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pool.jpg (image)

I don't think I  miss my old problems: being in love with boys who didn't love me back. Being in the constant doghouse from Tresa because my grades weren't that good. Having constant anxiety attacks in school cuz I felt dumber than everyone else.

Store-Brand Foods That Save You Money Without Sacrificing Taste [Saving Money]

Store-Brand Foods That Save You Money Without Sacrificing Taste [Saving Money]: "

If you take a pass on supermarket brands at the grocery store in favor of name-brand foods, Consumer Reports' comparison test might interest you. Turns out there's often very little difference between the two in taste or quality.

Photo by The Consumerist.

Consumer Reports ran a blind taste-test on several types of generic and name-brand foods and discovered, perhaps unsurprisingly to many, there's typically a marginal difference between them. In fact, in some cases, the store brand was better than the national brand.

For instance, Kirkland's salsa rated better with food tasters than Old El Paso's similar chip dip, and Walmart's au gratin potatoes won out over Betty Crocker's spuds. It's not always a total win, of course. Comparisons between brownie mixes and frozen lasagnas resulted in a tie, while Publix generic-brand barbecue sauce tanked next to the much-preferred K.C. Masterpiece national brand.

The taste-test results are great news for those of us trying to squeeze value out of every dollar, since buying generic can really save you some cash at the grocery store.

[T]he store-brand foods we tested cost an average of 27 percent less than big-name counterparts — about what you'd find across all product categories, industry experts told us. The biggest difference: 35 cents per ounce for Costco's vanilla vs. $3.34 for McCormick's. (Prices are the averages we found across the country.) Price gaps have less to do with what goes into the package than with the research, development, and marketing costs that help build a household name.

If you're new to supermarket brands, start off with simple items like condiments or canned vegetables and see what you think. If you like them, then give boxed meals and prepackaged dinners a try next. What generic products do you use regularly (ketchup? rice?)—and what name brand foods will you never give up? Share what you like in the comments.

National Brands: Which Taste Better? [Yahoo]

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I love make up.