Cable vs. Network

Mediaweek says that the big 4 networks have experienced a drop in viewers since the summer season started, while cable has more viewers than ever.

Well, no duh!

Networks are relying on the relatively inexpensive un-scripted shows, like Hell's Kitchen and Big Brother 1 Million, while cable is giving us shows like Burn Notice, Saving Grace, Army Wives, Slice of Life, and Damages, as well as returning shows like The Closer, Monk, Psych, Kyle Xy, The 4400, The Dead Zone, Rescue Me,... right...

Cable is hitting this one out of the park while the networks are stuffing their faces in the stands.

I mean, really, how do you hope to compare your viewership rates with reality and re-runs when cable's putting out brand new stuff that's well written? Yes, I love House and Bones and Grey's Anatomy and Desperate Housewives, but what you're showing now is old news. Is it the new season yet? No?

Then I'm not interested.

There are a few reality shows that I can stand, nay, even enjoy. Hell's Kitchen and Gordon Ramsey's delicious potty mouthed meanness, On the Lot with the silver tongued Garry Marshall, somewhat confusing Carrie Fisher and Adrianna Costa (who I wish I could like but can't because I won't get over her poor clothing and hair choices) and film makers hoping to make it to that mecca that is Steven Spielberg, America's Next Producer, which plays into my love of television and creating for television, and Who Wants To Be A Superhero, which always captures my heart because I like seeing people trying to be better people and better citizens and that's what the competition is all about.


That's it.

What worries me is that the networks will continue to follow this completely unfeasible path. Oh, I know that cable can charge differently, for every viewing of the show, than network tv. And although I hate the re-run path, especially if viewers won't go online to watch or won't buy the show off iTunes, the next best thing is to watch during the summer. Except, if you can watch it in the summer, why can't you just watch during the fall?

In the summer battle, cable is winning. Of course, reality shows are more popular to others than they are to me. Yet even this doesn't make up for the fact that approximately 60% of viewers are tuning networks out and turning to cable for their summer entertainment needs.

But then again, I guess as long as there's something good on, I'll be there.

Nerd Alert!

There are many times when you make a switch that people ridicule you for. They think you paid too much, or you got too little or you won't be able to do the things that other people do, but this picture sums up, in vision and deed, the vast difference between the mindset of Apple and the mindset of Dell as well as the act itself of setting up and using said machines.

Mac kills the Dell.

And, WOW, that Mac is beautiful.

photo courtesy apple.com

ps, if you can't read the print the first is an Apple iMac, the second is the Dell XPS 410.

Harry Potter!

(the above said in the voice of Severus Snape)

THE scarf, Saturday, when I started.



THE scarf, Sunday night. I think it's going to turn out well.

The picture, however, did not turn out as well as I think the scarf will.

This picture turned out better:

Hi, My Name Is This Girl...

and it's been 1 month since I posted on Blogger.

So, some things are going to change, like blog consolidation. Now, all my thoughts on different subjects will be put on Straight, and put into categories. Also, I will write more often. I know I've been promising that for almost 3 years, but now I think I can keep that promise... and if not, I will make it again in a month.

It's almost time for the fall television season and starting tomorrow, I will be giving my network by network synopsis and prediction for the success and failure of the shows this season. I will also recap last season's predictions and tell you 1) whether I was correct for the general population (i.e. shows were actually canceled) and 2) whether I was correct for myself (i.e. shows were taken off of the DVR).

I Saw A Bee

So, the original tomato plant that produced fruit has more tomatoes. They are small. I know they should be bigger. I have two other tomato plants, both heirloom. I am a bit worried that they won't produce fruit, but I saw a bee today. The fact that it played amongst the leaves and went nowhere near the flowers while I watched is not heartening, but if all I have is a beautifully green patio with no actual fruits and vegetables to show for it, I think I will be okay.

Or I might cry.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (no spoilers)

What a great book. After a friend and I finished reading and discussing everything like the crazy nerdly people we are, he sends me a text asking me to make him a Weasley sweater or something so hard, I would have to start on it next year to get the front portion done by next Christmas, so instead, I say I will make a scarf, Gryffindor of course, in a pattern I've seen since I first saw the scarf in the movie. Of course, if I knit on needles of the size required, it would take me as long as it would take to make a sweater to finish. So, larger needles, but a good design. Pictures to come.

I am done with all but one ruffled edge of my blanket for a friend whose baby is edging closer to the one year mark and further from being the right size for this blanket. Which sucks. This design went much slower than I suspected. It is beautiful though. I am proud of it. I'll be even more proud of it when I have a 4th ruffled edge.

In Other News

My house is a wreck. I have been in and out of town for the last couple of weeks. So when I am in the house, I've been catching up on my summer shows, writing and sleeping. I didn't even go to the market Saturday morning and I normally do. I did, however, find a new distributor of fresh eggs, so that's nice.

In a few days, I will have been married 3 years. More on that as the time approaches. I will more than likely reminisce about meeting my husband, the ups and downs of being married, why marriage is not like what I expected and what the Food Network has to do with helping my marriage be healthy.

Apparently, I have a lot of things to write about tomorrow and tomorrow is today.

So here goes... in a little bit.

Big Frakkin' Spider and other scary things

Courtesy of http://www.fazed.org/content/clock_spider/

If I walked into the house and saw this:



I would not have moved the clock knowing I would reveal this:



In reality, if faced with giant spider legs stick out from behind clock, I would have immediately called movers. I would never set foot in the house again.


And though I know vampires are slightly flamboyant (capes, delicious accents, etc.), mistaking a peacock for one just shouldn't happen.

What Have I Been Up To?

Yay Tomatoes!

I have also been spinning straw into gold... errr, roving into yarn.




I went out the other night with a couple of friends, reconnecting. The Honey went out for the first part, but went home early. It was good, talking to my friends. I haven't done that in a while, just hung out with nothing but enjoyment on my mind.

I'll admit that sometimes I want to hang out so that my husband will meet my friends and will find more that he likes. I am constantly trying to assimilate my husband's idiosyncrasies into my friends' zaniness. That basically means they're all crazy, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I've always wanted to just get to the point where my husband says, "Let's hang out with [insert name of friend here]". As I get used to his personality, I loosen up a bit more. I'm alright if he doesn't like anyone, but I'm glad that he's taken to some of my friends.

Speaking of friends, I have a friend situation that I am finally able to let go of. It took a while, a lot of soul searching, and one night out on the town and a few too many shots of tequila (on their half) to see a side of old friends that should really stay hidden. Have you ever met someone whose every action is a lie? I didn't think it was possible to know someone for a couple of years and seem close to them and find out that every moment had been a lie. Well, not every moment, but enough where no "good" memory yields good feelings anymore. I used to reminisce because I remembered how she used to be, but now that I see what she has become outwardly, I am not sure I want to know inwardly, but I guess it's because I remember too.

Memories aren't what they used to be.

Tomatoes

My tomato plant, which has grown taller than me, has finally produced fruit. Only two right now and maybe a few more... I can only hope!

Today, All My Troubles Seem So Near At Hand

Actually, I haven't really had any troubles today. I feel like, for the first time, I may really be getting a handle on my non-writing job. It's refreshing.

As for writing... well...

Today, I talked to one of my teachers. It went really well (so I think, anyway), but something weird happened. As I was getting ready to leave, this old guy with top and bottom teeth missing started talking to me about this "thing" a friend gave him and asked me if I wanted to press a button.

Ummmmm, excuse me? Do I know you?

He was creepy. I don't mean to be a judge by looks kind of person, but this was hard to miss. I had a feeling he was trying to witness to me, that if I pressed the "thing's" button, it would give me a message of hope or something.

Lame.

I mean, first of all, if you have no top or bottom teeth, just try talking to me about God. Don't try to con me into doing something that gets me involved. Because then, you look like a pervert.

A no teeth pervert.

I think they made a film about that.

It's not that I don't want to hear about God. It's just that I want to hear about God from someone I think can articulate. I don't need props. Just ask me a question. As it is, I don't EVER play with things strangers ask me to play with.

I've been feeling extremely hungry. I get sharp, nearly crippling hunger pangs, like my stomach is striking at the rest of my body. I NEED to eat. But then, once I start eating, I feel sick to my stomach. But I have to keep eating because that extreme hunger sensation is still there. I have to eat slowly and take deep breaths so I don't throw up.

And no, I know for a fact that I'm not pregnant.

So what's wrong with me. Monday, when I was driving to return the rental car from our recent trip to North Carolina (conference for me, vacation for The Honey), I literally was forced off the road and to the nearest food source, which in this case was the Waffle House, and ordered food and coffee like a mad person and at like one of those starving children my mom always wanted me to think about. I immediately wanted to throw it up (although, it being waffle house, I didn't associate with my hunger so much as with the grease). All answers will be appreciated.

Things About Me

I have an addictive personality. I realized this early on, I guess. Research tells you early on that if you have parents addicted to alcohol or drugs, you may share the same qualities that would cause you to be addicted to things. So I decided to stay away from smoking, drinking, drugs, sex, etc. because I didn't want to be controlled by those things.

But I did not put the brakes on other areas where my addictive personality shows through. Like eating. Now, I'm not as big as a house, but I can put away food. My first and lasting addiction is cheese in all it's various forms. I like cheddar the best, although Parmesan usually peaks its head in. That was followed by an addiction to cheese snacks. Nacho Cheese Doritos, Cheesums Pringles, I once had a year long addiction to the crunchy cheetos. Then it went to cereal. I would go to the local bulk food store and buy Honey Bunches of Oats with Almond cereal. Then I would hide them in my room and eat them when no one else would notice.

Man, I loved that cereal.

That addictive nature has moved into the knitting/spinning/yarn loving arena and the gardening arena. I think I realized this when I had my hands (gloved of course) in pounds of worm compost (worm poop for those of you who don't know) looking for the worms I was using to start my own worm farm. I search the internet for natural ways to kill the vermin that are destroying my strawberries. Out of nowhere, in the middle of completely different conversation, I will go off topic and talk about my garden, as if no other conversation had been going on. I long to get home to my spinning wheel. Someone from the yarn store let me borrow their older wheel, just to see if I like it and I have to say, I like it a lot. There is a lot of peace in the repetitiveness of pumping the treadle, pulling the roving and winding the yarn.

Except for spinning Sunday, I think I will purpose in my heart to finish at least one edge and start on the 3rd edge of my baby blanket, so the little baby cutie will get it while she can still snuggle underneath it.

What'd y'all order a dead guy for?

I tried for a long time to convince The Honey to watch Serenity with me. Then one night, unbeknownst to me, he watched it, probably out of boredom.

And he liked it.

He liked it enough to try Firefly, the show the movie Serenity came from. The show that did so poorly on Fox, the show I was mad at for taking Dark Angel's place. Now, I watch the 14 episodes at least 2 times a year, if not more and I remember Michael Weatherly more from NCIS than from the show I once paid so much attention to.

So when Firefly comes out in HD DVD, we will enjoy a mini marathon of canceled television show ending with the series finally major motion picture and enjoy ever goram minute of it.

"You wanna explain to me exactly why you got yourself all corpsefied and mailed to me?"

I love the characters. As I watch it now, every time I watch the show, I can't believe how much I like it. I can't believe I didn't give it a chance. I was young and stupid I guess. I've laughed and cried with this group of bandits, watched them be a family... it's awesome. An awesome show.

He asked me if the show was better than the movie. Yes. Yes it is.

I can't watch the movie without watching the show. I'd prefer to watch the show first, followed by the movie, in its true order. However, I started out with the movie and then the show, just like The Honey will. Maybe I'll start dvr-ing the show on Universal HD and watching it with him, since our fall shows are off the air for the summer.

Keeping In Touch

Sometimes, I don't write because I feel like I don't have something profound to say. You know, I kind of want each post to be something big, or manifest some new thought or lead others into a different way of thinking.

It's a nuisance really. I am itching to talk about things, but when it comes to getting those "things" down, I balk...

I choke, really.

But really, all I ever do is write, watch tv, knit/spin, and garden. I am a boring person. Oh, I have a job and I manage people, but when it comes to the things that make up me, these are the things, besides being a wife, that take up the most time.

I'm thinking about working on that blanket. I finished one sock, but find starting a new one is easy and hard at the same time. Both involve some sort of boredom in doing a repetitive action over and over again, but then again that sense of excitement that on long strand of fabric creates a multitude of things. When I showed my husband my sock, a sock that looked made specifically for my foot (because it was), he was amazed. Not because he didn't think I could do it, i don't think, but because he didn't realize the joy in it. Something created specifically for you. Something that took time and doesn't look like garbage, something that looks like something you might buy. Amazing.

I cooked out today, a few things. There's nothing like the taste of grill cooked food. And I wanted that taste. It was really good. I wished my tomato plant had ripe tomatoes for me to cut up on the hamburgers. One day, that will be the case. My strawberries are pretty, but now I have to wage war on the slugs so that they don't eat them first. I'm also started a worm farm so that I can have my own composte. It's amazing how good vermicomposting is for plants. Yes, I am handling worms. I used to fish. But I do wear gloves because, basically, those creepy crawlers deserve their names. (is slightly grossed out just thinking about it). With the gloves, it's not so bad.

I am trying my best to be a consistently good writer. Right now, I'm merely passable. There are some things I can be proud of, but mainly it's crap. To me. I want to be consistent. I'll give myself time before I throw in the towel.

I miss tv. My DVR is lonely. No new shows for it to record (just yet) and nothing new for me to watch. It's sad. I can't wait until the summer season starts. It's just that pause between Winter and summer seasons that's a bit frustrating for those addicted to television. Just as well, I need a bit of a break anyway. Ruffles don't knit themselves.

Exciting and New

My strawberry bucket is growing strawberries quickly, my tomato plant, while not full of tomatoes at all, is still alive and growing. My other poor, dead, plant is trying to sprout leaves again. (It actually did, but in my excitement at not actually completely killing the plant, I broke it off... I am so bad at this.) I will have more pictures soon.

I pulled my grape yarn off the spindle. It is hanging to dry as we speak. I will check it out tomorrow. It has been pretty exciting making my own yarn. I find, though, that I need more than excitement, perseverance, a spindle and roving. Apparently, I truly need something to wind it on... it's hard pulling yarn from the spindle and wrapping it all by myself.

Halo 3 Multiplayer beta came out for XBox360 users who play Crackdown. I don't like it. Of course, I've never played Halo, I didn't play the beta multiplayer version, but if I can't make it through the training session of Gears of War, how in the world am I going to stop thinking human beings on a hunt for anything that moves. I will stick to my Viva Pinata garden, thank you very much.

I hope they come out with an XBox360 portable, like the DS Lite (my favourite thus far) or the PSP. Every now and then, I just want to pull out the player and see if I can finally attract a Dragumfly to my garden. Or start all over. Whatever works!

My desk at work is not clean, but it is very manageable.

I could really use a candy bar right now. (Exciting, but not new)

We are going to watch the first game of the new baseball team here. I hope it's good. Local baseball was always fun.

I am getting better as a writer (not that you can tell it here, but I am!).

Green Thumb

I bought tomato plants. A good friend is growing them on his apartment balcony, apparently with much success, so I figured I would try. I bought a plant, but the guy gave me two with a sly little "just in case" look.





He was right... However, I am continuing the growth of one plant...




But what I am most excited about is my strawberry bucket. I was a bit disappointed when I first bought it. there were only 4 strawberry buds on it. Yet today, when I went out, I found at least 10 buds total and about 3 more possibles. I'm so excited.

Baby strawberry flower...



Strawberries!






All in this one little container...



To show that I am becoming obsessed (as usual) with a new hobby, I am considering my own worm farm for composting....That's right, spawning thousands of worms and using their poop for fertilizer. Obsessed.

Never Satisfied

I love living by the lake. I love being able to sit out on my patio and write/read/watch tv on my computer. Do you know what I hate?

Spring slash summer.

Oh.My.Word.

I spend the winter hoping for the spring. I am so excited about the first morning I can step outside with my computer in something other than gloves and sweatshirt (can't type in gloves).

So, apparently, are the critters. Mosquitoes, gnats, other flying lake things, spiders, beetles, ants... They, too, spend all winter just waiting for the spring, to come out of hibernation, to pursue something they hope to be one day good at - like flying up my nose just as I think I'll be left alone.

It is so beautiful to look at the lake. In the spring, the morning air is so perfect, a nice gentle breeze that is neither cold nor hot. The air is crisp, the light is good, the waves are gentle. I love it.

I hate the critters.

There are literally 3 good days to be outside.

This year, I missed them all. All I got was bugs.

These bugs travel in packs, like a gang. An angry, hyperactive gang. They move so fast, yet they can hover in one spot for hours. Apparently, there are several bug rivalries. They will clash at times, move away, then come back to their spots.

I missed my days. But if anyone can find me an ant free outside spot, I'd be forever grateful.

Cinco de Mayo

The 5th of May is not really anything special to us. Drinking margaritas and going out to Mexican restaurants is a common occurence. The special thing about this year is that the Honey was going to be off and able to celebrate cinco de mayo on the 5th of may. The unspecial thing about this 5th of may is that the Honey was sick.

Stuffy head, aching, sneezing, coughing sick.

Poor baby.

So we had Cinco de Mayo at home. Soft beef tacos and fish tacos, although I didn't have avocados which I should if I were doing fish tacos... nevertheless, they were good. The Braves are losing, which does not bode well for this game against the Dodgers or our one game lead. Here's hoping the Mets lose tonight.

We tried our margaritas with real lime juice (which the Honey liked best), sweetened lime juice (which I liked best) and the packaged margarita mix is waiting for our try. Although I like it to be sweetened, the first was really good.

So, what did you suckers do for Cinco de Mayo?

All Time Nerd High

I have been knitting for almost three years now. I started the summer before I got married, although I got discouraged in the early parts of marriage and put knitting down for a bit. Then, on the way to visit family in Michigan, I decided to bring my knitting with me and I have been going ever since.

I'm still in the "knit straight things" category, scarves, blankets, afghans, etc. The other day, during a special event at my favourite yarn shop, Creative Yarns I talked someone into showing me how to make yarn from "roving", fiber in its unfinished form.

My husband has informed me I at at an all time high in nerddom. But I love it. It is interesting watching this:



turn into this:



and this:



In other knitterly news, I am still working on the baby blanket for a special little girl. This is what I have so far:



It is mostly finished, although the hardest part, the ruffled edge, is taking the longest. 1 down, 3 more to go! *sigh*

Gears of War Can Eat Baloney; I Love Viva Pinata

I'm not a gamer. You would never mistake me for one.

Yet the other day, I beat the 200 lines version of Tetris on DS Lite. Granted, when I first started playing, I couldn't get past level 4 even if I had help with the first 20 lines. Yet one day, I was flowing, the block were falling, my mind, not my fingers were moving them and suddenly, they were no longer falling and words were scrolling and I realized that I had won.

So I got bolder.

I played Elebits for the Wii. Elebits is a game where you are basically catching little critters that make electrical things work. You capture a certain wattage to win a level. They put up obstacles, like you can only break a few things or you can't make much noise. They also put a critter in that you couldn't capture AND that could attack you and reduce your strength.

Not cool. But completely so at the same time.

I like the Wii because you feel like you are a part of the game. I was playing a boss level, which I haven't beaten yet, and I was moving all over the room while trying to dodge big balls of energy like it was truly going to come out of the screen. I like the Wii.

Then my husband gets the XBox360. It is an amazing bit of machinery and the type of game that is just what I have always avoided when it comes to video games. Lots of buttons and complicated controlling.

But I beat Tetris. Doesn't this mean I should step outside my comfort zone? So I decide, I will play Gears of War with my husband. I'll just learn the controls.

Just. What a crazy word that is. Just. It makes everything seem easy. Just. Learn. The. Controls.

I think I would sooner learn to be a Cirque du Soleil performer than try to get the hang of Gears of War controls. I think I would rather relish the nutritional benefits of eating dirt than learn the Gears of War controls. I think I would rather play nice with a constrictor around my throat than get the hang of Gears of War controls. (you see if a constrictor is around your throat they can feel your heartbeat and will do the constricting part of their name...)

Wuss, you say? Yes. That's me.

Let me explain what playing Gears of War was like for me. Imagine, the world spinning out of control, as if you were drunk. Random shooting at nothing in particular, although the floor seems to merit special interest. The character is moving in the direction he's not looking and when those monster thingies burst through the door on your very first challenge, the character is ducked behind the door to periodically pop up and shoot the floor or the door jamb before being mercilessly ripped apart a scant 2 seconds later.

And repeat.

I was so horrible at it my husband, who was excited at the mere thought of his wife becoming a gamer with him, was scrunched back in the cushions of the couch trying his hardest to be encouraging while being thoroughly befuddled that this deja vu moment was happening for the 15th time.

Oh, I'd be in different spots, but would somehow manage to hit the floor and door jambs perfectly and miss the monster thingies completely, then be taken apart like steak to ravening wolves.

I was able to admire the many varied bloody patches my previous deaths left on the floor.

Honestly, I never made it past that first door. The first challenge of the game left me stumped.

My husband let that one go.

I did enjoy Crackdown, however. My character is Coward Cop, because all I like to do is run around collecting the orbs that let you jump higher and kick the hell out of things. When there is a lot of shooting, I run away. The only time I went ballistic is the time I was at the funhouse circus place and they kept shooting at me. It was annoying. So I shot everyone, collected all the orbs and immediately ran away.

My husband made up a song especially for Coward Cop.

My favourite video game right now is Viva Pinata. I love the game so much, I DVRed the Saturday morning cartoon. It sucked, although I loved the fizzlybear's surfer voice. In the short time we've had the 360, I've played that game to death. It is relaxing, except when the Sours come in and wreck your garden and make the other pinatas sick. I remember the first time I played, I didn't want to kill any pinatas. Now, less than a week later, I whack evil pinatas with relish. I think I just made it to level 40 gardener and found the Dragonache egg.

Gibberish? Yes. Fun? Heck yes!

Now, we have a new game in the arsenal. Guitar Hero 2. Guitar Hero 2 was the main reason my husband wanted the XBox360. He's been playing for 3 hours straight. I hear they are going to put out a Band version as well. My husband suggested I be the singer.

Hah!

Tomorrow, I will play Guitar Hero 2 in the comfort and privacy of my own home while my husband is at work, just so he doesn't hear my mistakes.

Expect nothing less than a Gear of War style debacle as my hands once again refuse to follow what my eyes see. And if I somehow make the Guitar Hero 2 universe reel drunkenly before band members get slaughtered by monster thingies coming out of the ground, I will definitely capture that screen for you.

ESPN Radio

I am addicted to sports talk radio.

Addicted.

It started during football season (I love football), but somehow, it has steamrolled into an everyday obsession. I sometimes enjoy basketball, thought I hadn't liked the NBA for years - until recently when those guys stopped playing like spoiled brats in a gym and started running like men on a hot, outdoor, asphalt court with something to prove.

But I digress.

And not just an ordinary obsession where I want to listen all the time. The kind of obsession that makes other people say "whoa". The kind of obsession where you get angry when, instead of hearing Mike and Mike, you hear Mike and Josh, or Doug and Mike, or The Herd is with John Seibel, not Colin Cowherd.

I need it to be Colin Cowherd!

And I feel left out when I hear a clip from a show I didn't get to listen to. Or I start to muse on the actuality of Reggie Miller and Dan Patrick's relationship.

I want to know it ALL.

But I won't subscribe to ESPN Insider because that's not how I want to spend my money.

Ah well, who knows. Maybe this obsession will only last 6 months, like my country obsession.

Big Wheels Keep On Turning

It is amazing how easy driving is, how easy it is to speed, how easy it is to get into a head exploding tizzy fit when other people don't speed... I got my driver's license when I was 22 years old. Too old to be afraid of speed, but I was. I know, some of you who know me will be amazed. Anyone who has been a passenger has, at one time or another, feared for their lives. When I first started driving, however, I was a Sunday driver everyday. My mom taught me to drive and, being that she is almost exactly like me, was the worst teacher ever. When I drive, my goal is to get to the destination the fastest with the fewest lights. It boggles my mind that other drivers don't think like this. For my mom, her goal was to have as smooth a ride as possible (I think) and that was just not possible with a girl who, when the speedometer got a little on the plus of 25, would kinda start to freak. Freaking meant frequent brake stepping and then speeding back up again. Which would bring more comment from the single peanut in the gallery which would just be sheer torture for me. It was not pretty. It was so bad, I had to get someone else to teach me how to parallel park. My mom is an awesome driver. She can backwards drive like nobody's business (she could take Mater). She's good at parallel parking as well, but can you imagine me, Nervous Nelly, trying to place a big ol' Dodge Caravan between two cars when I didn't have my driving eyes yet, and my mom, aka older, impatient me, was my teacher? No. I learned in a little Honda Civic from a friend at church. Armed with my grit my teeth and bear it approach to learning from my mom and the ease of parallel parking from Jen. A. and my superior day before the test memorization of the driving manual, I was handed a license a mere 6 hours after I'd gotten there. I got to drive home... on the interstate!!! I went over 50 miles per hour for the first time behind the wheel. I wasn't quite doing the speed limit and I was in the fast lane. I apologize. But I was driving on the interstate and that was a big deal. Now, while it's no big deal, I still get a kick out of remembering.

Now, I feel like I drive with my eyes closed. Which should be dangerous, but turns out not to be. Most of my drive I could probably do in my sleep. I take different ways just to spice up the drive. I carefully plan my course like some sort of army sergeant. I have plan B driving paths. I am so anal. But it is a pleasing endeavor. That is where I find joy, getting to my destination with minimal stops and praise be to God if I don't find myself behind someone who thinks it's safer to go 30 miles under the speed limit.

I have to admit, though, since I've gotten married, my husband had been pumping gas for me and I find that I will do anything in my power to not be the one that has to pump the gas. It's a quirk. I've learned to love it.

The other day, I realized, as I sped between Ma and Paw Sunday Driver and Memaw and all the others, that I was much more at ease with speed. I found going 25 so mind numbingly slow that I try my best to always be 10 miles over the limit. I don't fear the ticket. Sometimes, it's worth it for the speed. So I drive every day, the same way with the same destinations in mind and I'm glad that, though driving came late, it did finally show it's face and that makes me happy.

The Little You Know

Right now, I am listening to a girl I used to work with singing on her myspace page. It is myspace.com/ohdorian. I am a big fan of female singer songwriters - Neko Case, Emiliana Torrini, Lucinda Williams, Mindy Smith on occassion - and Oh Dorian has just been added.

Heather Kemp is a little bit of a girl, a fireball in a way, but quiet as well. We worked together and I was her manager. What made it frustrating for her to work with me is that management had not made any official declarations of who would be in charge in the store, only asking me to keep things in line since I was the senior member of the staff. There were little things I was nit-picky about, things that would interrupt busy times and cost money -only cents, I'm sure- but over time a cost that would add up while being completely unnecessary. Because of the nit-picking, we had a strained working relationship although I like Heather a lot. She had her own sense of style, her own way of getting to the heart of things. She took things with a laugh and generally had a smile on her face. She worked hard, which should have been commended, but I was too new to know anything except how to talk about what was going wrong. Outside of work, we were strangers in a sense, the kind that feel that should stop and talk to each other, but at the same time, were eager to get away as soon as the silence reached 2 seconds. I heard that she had begun singing and playing and I wanted to go check her out, but I haven't had the chance. I even delayed listening to her site, even though it was easy to do. For the last couple of weeks, I've seen her everywhere and I guess we've seen each other out of our normal context. I think, in a way, it has been refreshing to each of us because we've had a delight in seeing each other in a way we never had before.

So I decided to hit her site. I was blown away. It just proves how little you know about the people around you, their dreams and aspirations. Her talent is evident. Her voice isn't vampish, as if she wants to claim some title that Brittney Spears left behind. Sometimes it's as clear as a bell, wafting through the air, reverberating through you in waves. Sometimes it's gritty as if what she has to say is too tough and if she didn't have music, she wouldn't be saying it at all. She plays both piano and guitar and each add its own element to the music. She uses the music to give a prelude of the song and her voice is singer and instrument as well, the way the words flow, the way she structures them. She has a song that reminds me of Tori Amos and though I have not always liked Tori Amos, she does the style that I do like from her. She combines her influences, never imitating them dead on, but mixing them in interesting ways. As I sit and listen, I love her voice and I want to hear more.

So many people have talents. I enjoy writing, but there are people who know me, even people who know that I write, who have no idea how hard I have worked and am working to become this elusive thing called Writer. There are people around Heather right now that don't know that she has this talent. She works with them, among them, being normal, chipper. This Friday, I'm going to learn this other side of her, the side called Musician, and if her website is any indication, I will love it.

She plays at 550 Blues at 9pm on Friday March, 9. 550 Blues is on Riverside Drive between MLK and First street.

11

It was 1994, the summer before I went to college. OJ Simpson ruined the basketball playoffs, baseball was talking strikes and football wouldn't start until later that year. There were no good sports on the telly, so I tried a sport I had never looked into. Hockey.

What can I say? I was in the south. Hockey has not made its way to this area. We didn't have an NHL team. We didn't have any area rinks. Truth be told, we were all a little afraid of snow. We had a storm the year before all the 12 incheswe got was enough to make many people thank God that that type of blizzard only happened once every 20 years.

To be fair, I have a history of liking things my fellow southerns could care less about. I was a big fan of soccer. I was number 11, played the left wing position and my coach called me "the angel of death". What can I say, I was aggressive. I was one of six girls on our boys team and I loved it. After OJ took his sweet, ever loving, time driving around his city, right in the middle of the finals and I'm watching him do 10mph while while a small PIP continues b-ball coverage. I think we can all agree, not the same. I had to find something else and the Stanley Cup gave my that something.

I watched the Rangers play for the Stanley Cup. I had no clue what any of it was all about. I didn't know the rules. I just liked it. I always pick a player that I root for and so I picked someone with my number. It was Mark Messier. I didn't know anything about him, his history with the Oilers, his status as a player. I just knew I liked watching him play. He was aggressive and he was fast and his Rangers won that Cup. It was exciting to watch it all.

My family thought I was crazy, but that was okay. I moved to Boston, MA a few months later for school and fell in love with the Boston University hockey team, my home team. As an homage to hockey and to my number, I found a Mark Messier poster. It hung on my wall until it was destroyed during a move. I don't know if I was as much a Messier fan (though he deserved it) as I was paying respect to the person and the number, but I know that watching Messier play set the tone for watching hockey.

In January, the Rangers retired number 11. A few days ago, the Oilers did the same thing. Reading that story made me remember just how much I owe my love of hockey to that number.

Keep On Writing In The Free World

Working and writing is not turning out like I thought it would. I thought, if I am already writing, working in a job that allows me to work around my writing schedule should be easy.

Wrong.

It seems to be harder. And not only does it seem to be harder, but I am getting more ideas for short stories, television scripts, and articles than I can write. And I'm hearing the voices again... just bits of conversation as opposed to full blown stories with plots, but it will come soon.

That sounds crazy.

My husband tells me he always hears music in his head. As a musician, that makes sense. Sometimes I see him move his hands over invisible keys playing the melody. Me, I hear voices. Strangers take up residence in my head and tell me stories. They keep talking, whether I'm asleep or awake. I miss important plot points. I miss deaths and births, but I hear stories. For a long time, it was a constant barrage. Sometimes, they would include people I know and I couldn't remember if it was only a story or if I had actually had this conversation. Usually, it was only a story. Then, different things happened and it was like my brain shut down.

I used Jeopardy to gauge brain activity.

After my brain shut down, I couldn't hear the stories anymore. I would put my hand to paper and walk away blank. Blank page, blank on the inside. I would watch Jeopardy and not know a single question... or if I knew it, could not get it out before the true answer was given. I was working alot, feeling unappreciated at my job, under stress... just in a generally bad way. Then I was given the blessing of pursuing my dream.

Which was more like a nightmare at first.

But as I worked diligently (and for free) just for the opportunity to become a better writer so I could then make the big bucks, I noticed something.

The voices were coming back.

I could play Jeopardy again.

It sounds crazy.

But I missed it, I realized. The first time I woke up to voices and stories, I just listened. They didn't lead me anywhere, but it was comforting. I felt comfortable in my own skin again. Being away from the pressure of that old job was getting rid of an invisible toxin I never knew I had. I am turning back into myself.

Maybe if writing and working wasn't so time consuming and sleep depriving, then it would be perfect. Then again, because I thrive on chaos, maybe it already is.

How Do You Feel?

I did a silly little blog poll today that asked, "Who is the greatest person in the world?" The choices were: Your mother, the Speaker of the House, the guy that invented the Tivo, Mike Bobo, or "W". It is obvious, if you know me, that I picked the Tivo guy. When you made your choice, you see what most people picked. Most people chose their mother and for a split second, I felt guilty for valuing the Tivo guy over my mother. Then I realized my mother doesn't even like TV, much less record shows for me when I don't get to watch them.

When I write, I feel like an armless, legless man with a crayon in his mouth.

Kurt Vonnegut wrote that. That's how I feel all the time. Except my crayon is a nub and I need to remove the paper. Frustrating. I know that I've been paid to write and I keep getting assignments, but I feel more like a fraud than I ever have. As I get closer and closer to my goals, I feel as if I am still so far away. Each success begs to be duplicated and brings its own very different fears. I am overwhelmed. I want to quit everything, just stop it, but the thought of doing that is so gut wrenching, and when I actually sit down to put word to page (or type to screen), I am at home. I don't know why this has to be such a combative process, but then, as Will Smith playing Chris Gardner says, it is the pursuit of happiness. I don't want to work this hard, yet when I do it, I love it. Ah well, let me take this crayon and pretend that my work is not a giant cerulean scribble on the screen of life.

A Different Light

I have been thinking on the subject of friendship a lot lately. I called a person who was once a really good friend and we struggled through our less than 10 minute conversation as if we were strangers. While I still have friends from college and when I moved back home many years ago, the friendships I thought would be the longest lasting have all but dissipated. My husband still has his friends from high school. While they've struggled with continuing to find time for each other in the mess of life, they still do, they still enjoy each others company. With the exception of one friend here, my other good friends live in Atlanta and Miami. While Atlanta is not that far away, in many ways it is a lifetime away. With hectic lives on both sides, making arrangements to hang out doesn't happen as often as we'd like.

So what happens to make relationships disintegrate? How can you be each other's best friends and confidantes one day and the next not even really know the person? I'm prone to think it's a woman thing, because my husband and my guy friends are my only friends. My husbands friends are slowly warming up to me and me to them, but every female friend I have ever claimed as a "best" friend, barring my friend in Miami, has left me in the dust. I am not bitter about this fact, just incredulous, wondering what I do to cause it, if it is my fault, if I am just a poor chooser of friends. I would like to put the blame on myself in some cases. I am the common denominator. But in other cases, even as I claimed friend status, I watched her make and discard friends like tissue paper, and one day, my turn was up. It is hard for me to turn off the "caring for a friend" mode that I've gotten into when friends leave me, but I could stand to see this in a different light.

In other news, babies are being born and are about to be born. Expect presents sometimes before they turn 2.

Scrybe Says: I Will Save Your Life

Something that could break the Google Dynasty? We'll see.

Google Rules My Life

When I got to the coffee shop today, I immediately opened four applications. Gmail, Google Docs and Spreadsheets, Google Calendar and Google Reader. I looked at my tabs and realized that everything that starts my day was managed by Google. So I immediately went to Blogger, owned by Google, to tell y'all. So, anybody else have applications that completely rule their lives - or at least that they don't get through the day without?

It's Almost Official

As of this Thursday, I may become a paid writer. I hope it happens. If not, I may be crying in my milk later. But don't you dare worry about me. I'll be fine.

UPDATE: It's now official. I am a paid writer. Yay!

"The N-Word"

So, what words can we use to talk about the N-word without using the phrase "the N-word"? That's the question Washington Post is asking for their writing style sheet.

an excerpt from the Post:
Podesta wrote that it would be better for Post reporters to "take a few more words and say something like 'a well-known racial epithet.'"

In a telephone interview Monday afternoon, Podesta said the issue came up first as an aside during a conversation with an African American colleague.

"She said, 'You know, I'm really sick of this term, it's really trivializing and childish ... and we should find something more adult" when referencing the word, Podesta said.

Other African American journalists told Podesta they found the word "annoying," a few suggested simply running the word, at least on first reference.

"The word is so freighted with meaning, it's like, wink-wink, we're saying the word, and we're not saying it," Podesta said.

Last June the black-owned and -oriented Chicago Defender stirred some controversy with a story about the African American community's view of the word that carried the word in a front-page headline.

"Black America, isn't it about time we made up our mind about the word nigger?" the headline read.

"If we (at the Defender) can't raise the issue, then who can?" the paper's executive editor, Roland Martin, said at the time.

At the Post, Podesta's memo also urged staffers to "be careful about" other terms, including "anti-immigrant," and "jihad" and "jihadist."

So what do you guys think? Should the word just be out there with an overall apology that encompasses any writing that comes out from now on that no one is being called a name, should be come up with other terms, is "the N-word" sufficient and people should just get over themselves? I'd be interested in hearing what you have to say. I'm not sure what I think. I can't stand to hear or see nigger in print, although it loses its sting when discussed academically. "The N-word" is kind of annoying, but not as annoying as the Washington's Post's suggested euphemism, "a well-known racial epithet". Is there a better course that can be used for the present or are we just stuck where we are?

Dough

Since we've moved to our new apartment, I've been afraid to bake. I love baking, but my oven temperature has been unreliable. I discovered, after I'd tried and failed at making a standard cake, a cake I've made so many times that I could do it with my eyes closed, that my oven cooked too hot. I've been working, over the last few months, to figure out how to get it just right. So I'm trying my hand at the cake again (3rd time).

What prompted me to write, though, is how much I like uncooked dough. I made cookies last weekend and they came out okay, which was the first time for them. I ate more dough than I baked, I think. So I've been eating cake dough as I wait to see if this one will do well. It's really good. I might only have a smaller cake if I eat the second half before the first half cooks. I love cake! I love dough!

Oh No!

I am in a state of numb shock. In the course of moving from windows to mac, I forgot that I had to get a few things. I couldn't read my files because I didn't have Office on my Mac, so I had to get it. Well, while in pursuit of a word processor, my external hard drive decided to give out on me. I found out later that there was some big technical problem where, although the hard drive normally runs something that supports Windows, OS X, and Linux, at some point my hard drive tried to re-format because of some file sharing something or other, which made it incompatible with my new computer, and I had to re format that hard drive. At first, I just thought a bunch of video that I'd stored on there was gone, but then I realized, with some horror, that all of my writing was also on there. All gone. I felt stupid, shamed, lazy... I could have prevented it all my emailing everything to myself so that my writing would be stored outside of my own hard drives. I could have just pulled all the files onto my new computer just in case something happened to my hard drive -which I would have done if I'd ever thought something would happen to my hard drive. Now, the prospect of writing seems so pointless. How could I let this happen? I don't think I could have been as big an idiot if I'd tried. I'm trying to calm myself by thinking that starting from scratch can do nothing but help, but I had actually outlined a show I wanted to write. I had been working hard on writing short stories, essays... it just really sucks right now, but I couldn't go to sleep until I got it off my chest. Okay, Good night.

Meet my new PowerBook, Mac

I am typing to you from my brand new PowerBook. Yes! I have it! It is in my possession, running my programs, doing just about everything I did before. I love it. It feels so neat to type on it. The key touch is softer, making typing a bit easier. It is smaller, so it's cute. And it loads programs faster than my Dell did. My husband has been looking out for me because when he found this deal, he snatched it up. Anyway, of course I'm finding it a little bit confusing working with a new operating system, but Mac is so nice, he pretty much leads me to everything and anything I don't know, my husband tells me. This has been fun, so far, discovering everything it will do, learning that I've installed a program incorrectly, being able to cheer myself on when I figure something out (go me!)... I'm just having alot of fun right now. Anyway, it is well past time to go to bed. Enjoy your day, everyone.

Okay, We Get It Superdome

As a city that accepted refugees from Katrina, I understand. Finally, the Superdome is able to host the New Orlean Saints and what a celebration you had. U2 and Green Day? Municipal workers on the field? You were finally home and no one on the earth could combat that kind of energy and, in a way, no one would want to. So why did it have to be us? Why did we have to play you in this game? I hate that the Falcons lost, but I'm glad that the Saints get their reopening victory.

What did I do today?

Slept. I took a sleeping pill because I've been having a spot of insomnia. I took it at around 4am. I slept until about 4pm. That was the whole day. I didn't write. I didn't read anything... well, I did a couple of pages of Heart of Darkness. Then we went to Ruby Tuesdays to eat with a couple of friends. One friend just got back from a mission trip. Then we went to the Douglass Theatre to hear Jeff Lang. If you get a chance to hear him play, you should. If you love live music and want to hear a guitar genius/master/virtuoso, you have to hear him play. He's from Australia and he was funny. It was funny watching my husband and his friend listening to him. They're both musicians and they were blown away. His second song in, they both were sat completely back in their chairs, arms pushed straight out with hands on their knees, with equal looks of incredulity. Then they started giggling like little boys. This part lasted a good three songs. It was almost more entertaining for me to watch them (and the rest of the audience) than listening to the music. But the music was awesome. By the way, the Ruby Tuesdays in the mall is going downhill. I remember a time when I used to look forward to going there, getting the black bean and chicken penne pasta dish, salad bar, which was the lord of all salad bars, and just sitting back and enjoying the ambience. Don't get me wrong, it's still a chain, but it was a pretty good one. But tonight, I tasted the worst burger I've ever tasted, the one with the different kinds of good beef ground together. I ordered the turkey burger, but I should have just stuck with the Buffalo Chicken Sandwich with bleu cheese dressing. The bun on my turkery burger was so big, it must have weighed a pound. It was huge! Taste wise, it was okay though.

That was my day. Uninteresting until Jeff Lang, then back to normal. But the sleep was definitely good... of course, that means I won't be going to sleep tonight until after 4am again. Oh well, we'll figure something out.

New Baby

Last night, my husband brought home a new baby. He's not mine yet, but I have high hopes. He had to be cleaned up a bit, we'll probably have to get a new battery, and I'm hoping to get one of those fancy schmancy stands that swivel as well, but I may soon have a brand new used computer.

It's so purty! It's nice and has a grey case and is small. I thought I'd hate a small computer. I'm always looking at the widescreens, but when I was playing with Mac last night (that's his name, Mac), I not only liked it, but it was a great complement to my office because its screen was everything I have now, but it was small enough to see the television screen without stretching or sitting at odd angles. I can watch and type at the same time!

My husband has told me several times which computer it is. It's a 12" Powerbook. If I can find a picture, I'll scrounge it up for you. I'm really excited about it. It's much faster, so I can do all my searching, watching, listening and writing without the irritating lag I've experienced with my Dell. I'm so happy right now... I could cry... but I don't do that.

I'm Sorry

Now that I've become a big time television watcher writer, I act like I don't have time to update you guys. I should have time, as much time as I spend on this computer, but I don't. I think it's just that I don't take the time, like I'm doing now. There is absolutely no reason for anyone to keep coming here if I publish once a month and some of you rely on this site (or my Xanga) to keep up with me. Well, I have to admit, I use Xanga more because a majority of my family is on it, but I will not forget you 3 people who check this site to see what's up.

So, what's up? Not much. We're broke because I'm not making any money. I am choking on finding a paying writing job. What I do know how to get started doing, I don't think I'm ready for it and what I think I could do, I don't know how to break in. I'm just going to have to start failing so that I can get used to the feeling and get over the fear. I am definitely growing in the writing department (with many edits). I am beginning to think again. I know that sounds weird and if I've already written this, I'm sorry you have to hear it again, but I feel like I put my brain on hold for a long time and it's amazing to me that I did it. Now that it's opening up, it's craving reading material. I am reading (bigben, you should get your book back real soon... well, I should be done soon, I don't know how soon we will be up there) more, writing more, having more ideas. The other day, I had other people in my head again, carrying on conversations, almost like I used to have all the time, but these people were too far away for me to hear them and write it down. I am also getting alot of information, learning the things that interest me, trying to keep up with the trends of these interests. The funny thing is I thought of my interests and wrote them down, and when I asked my husband what he thought my interests were, he doubled my list because I just hadn't considered some things I do all the time as true interests. Like food. I love food, finding new recipes, cooking, etc., but I never considered it a write-able interest because I think of it as something I do for us. I want to try different things to increase my skill as a cook, not write about it. But I can write about it, I discovered. It's just things like this that I've always loved and now I get to look at it in a different way.

I'm still getting published in the 11th Hour and Macon Food. I'm writing in MF for Joshua Cup. I'd like to do more promotional writing, maybe write profiles for bands, something like that. I definitely want to write television show reviews, heck, a television show period. I need to find a director who not only loves my writing, but is willing to work with me on any project that I come up with. Of course, this would mean woring extremely hard for no money, so that's why the director has to want it too. I can find the actors, I can find other writers, I can find places to film, I can even find places to show it and if it is well received, even some funding.

Ah well, this day goes well. I've been going to sleep at 6am, which doesn't bode well for getting up at 9am or 10am... or on Wednesdays, 8:30am. I wish I could go to sleep earlier and get up earlier. I still have so much work to do, but most of the day is gone before I get up and then my television viewing and reviewing time comes and that's it until tomorrow. Watching 2-5 shows a night (and writing about them) is alot of work. But it's exciting to me, and when I get comments from people where conversations are sparked, or people just love what I've written, it's awesome for me. Anyway, that's it for today. See you tomorrow!

Happy Anniversary

Star Trek is 40.

Oprah is 20... the show, not the woman. So is Aliens (the movie, not the beings)

I,and Charlie's Angels (again, the television show, not the women, no matter what they wanted us to think at the Emmys), am 30.

To many round numbers.

It's crazy when the things you loved age you. I remember watching Oprah as a youngster. It didn't seem so long ago, a few seasons, but suddenly it's 20 years that she's being doing this. And what have I been doing? Following a dream, long deferred by time or my stubborn indifference. Time is not a shallow river, or slow moving, but swift and dangerous. Will I be safe in the transport I've chosen, or will it be dashed against the rocks, spilling me and all my efforts unmercifully into the rapids? But I'll be alright. I've chosen this course when I could have stayed on the ground. I picked this option when it was put before me. I'll accept the consequences be it journey's end or a bruising soak. There will be no drowning. I've got my life vest and enough sense to hold my breath if I go under.

Where Are Your Shoes?

Every day, I get emails from a group I'm a part of that helps me keep some priorities straight. When I am writing/online looking things up, I tend to think of nothing else and suddenly, it's 8pm or 10 o'clock and time to eat/watch tv/make the bed. I don't clean, or straighten like I should. So this site reminds me that I want to do these things and if they're not already done, I do them.

One of the reminders is for me to put on my shoes. The idea is that if you have on your shoes, you are more professional in your conversation, you are ready to leave at a moment's notice, you are prepared for the day.

I am not a shoe person. I wear flip-flops during the summer. Almost exclusively. If I have to walk around downtown, then I wear sneakers, but I absolutely hate doing so. There is no way I'm going to be sitting at home in shoes when my feet can be free. I felt bad for a while because the site has helped so much in other areas. My home is cleaner, I don't feel so overwhelmed when it comes to housework, and I am able to do what needs to be done and concentrate on my work when my housework is done. And even though my home is by no means spotless, my daily housework gets done. So, maybe I should put on the shoes so that my professionalism would know no bounds. Today, I realized something.

I don't need shoes to be more professional, to be ready to go. I can easily walk outside with no shoes on and feel fine, no shame in it. So what have I always used to signify that I am working? What do I do at the end of the day that is my signal that my work is done, I can relax? It has be taking off my bra.

Now, I hate bras almost as much as I hate shoes, but since the unfortunate growing incident of 2003, I have had to wear bras. Where once I didn't, now I do. So I have decided I am in professional mode when I get up and, along with all my other activities, I put on a bra before I start my day at the computer. When it it time to watch tv when my day is done, it's off with the bra. And really, it is my biggest reminder that I am working. When I worked outside of the home, being home was bra-less time. Not so much anymore. So when they ask where my shoes are for the day, I will make sure I have on my bra before I start making up people who live in a universe only I create.

Spam

I hate getting spam, but if you're going to send it to me, at least spell erexxxion correctly!

Wikipedia Laugh of the Day

I went to Wikipedia to look up the movie Frequency. When I got to the end, I found this gem:

A similar plot was used in the TV soap opera Port Charles in 2001, with Frank Scanlon (Jay Pickett) using a 1973 computer to warn a girl named "Cookie" not to sleep with Scott Baldwin (Kin Shriner) after a high school dance, but this prevents the birth of his present-day girlfriend, Dr. Karen Wexler (Marie Wilson). In typical soap opera fashion, however, the plot gets more convoluted, with the now-never-existing Karen being the only possible bone-marrow donor for her dying mother, and Frank seeks out a voodoo priest to send him back in time to keep Cookie from using the computer to talk to him in the future.

What? A real storyline for a soap opera? For serious?

Published Writer

That's me. Some of you may have missed my story on the Dempsey Hotel in the 11th Hour. That's okay. There's http://www.11thhouronline.com for you to go to so if I were to have other stories, especially feature stories, you could read it there. I think they just disable the stories when that two weeks is up. Sorry I didn't tell you guys about it (the both of you). I also have an advert piece in Macon Food for the coffee shop I used to work for.

Now that I'm published, pray that I begin to get paid for it! Or don't.

As ifner it was a Sprite

For some strange reason, I've always thought Ginger Ale was some generic, hybrid off shoot of the carbonated lemon-lime beverage, like Sprite or Sierra Mist - or maybe a weird mixture with 7up. I don't know how I came to this opinion, but the other day, I was proven dramatically wrong. Dramatically, because what was common knowledge to everyone else was about to kick me in the teeth. I poured myself a glass of Ginger Ale and proceeded to gulp it down like I would have it was Sprite. That Ginger Ale basically tried to kick my butt on the way down my throat. It was so strongly carbonated, so intense, I almost shouted and cried from the strength of it. The Honey, standing, watching me (probably laughing at my faces) was there as further proof when I said, "I didn't know it was that strong." "What'd you think it was like?" he asked. "Sprite," I said. He walked away, laughing and shaking his head. Now, two weeks later, I am able to enjoy my Ginger Ale on the same level as Sprite. While it has definitely weakened, it still has enough fizz to make me believe it's all good.

Good Lord!

Someone's getting serious about drinking and driving. Check out these new ads.

Courtesy of Kevin

Abstinence Education

I teach abstinence education, which is hard, not only because the kids I talk to don't really believe in it, but most of the adults don't either. The adults usually give me this look, like I'm too idealistic. They tell me that kids can't/won't control themselves, so it is our responsibility to teach them how to be safer. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one being realistic. I look at the things that are happening to people who start on this path and it makes me sad that other people aren't themselves educated. And if they do know the risks, it makes me sad that it's more than education that people need to protect themselves.

I always feel this white hot ball of anger rise up when people tell me that youth can't choose to be abstinent. I know that in the neighborhoods where I teach/speak, kids choosing abstinence is on the low side. People talk about education being the way out of the rise in STDs and teen pregnancy, yet the same people are continually recreating dangerous behaviour. They need more than education. They need role models. They need someone who will show them that its possible to go another route.

But it's more than a "someone shows up in your neighborhood" kind of thing. It's something that involves everyone. From artists who have a much larger influence on the population than they could imagine to the speakers who spend an hour of their lives once with 500 people, there needs to be some sort of recognition of the state of youth, why they believe they are safe and what happens once they realize they're not.

All of that to say that whenever I teach teenagers I have a hell of a time getting through to them and when I do, it's so rewarding. I had to teach a group of teens the other day, only the boys this time and I dreaded it. When tall the kids are together, they cannot be handled with kid gloves. Sometimes voice raising comes in handy. Well, this time, it's me in the room with a bunch of boys who are more than happy to talk about sex. I easily have their attention as I ask questions and they give the correct answer, although we venture into other areas, because the program I work with focuses on the things you want to do instead of sex. I'm not talking about taking a cold shower, I'm talking about the future goals you have so that sex is the last thought on your mind because you want to get your degree or a house or just your own car before you have to think about providing for a baby. We also teach those "safety" measure that somehow always find at least one chance to fail because they are not 100% effective; yes, they hear about them. We don't discriminate. We want to reduce and/or stop the ravages of disease. ARrrrrgh... digression.

Anyway, we get off topic and start talking about video games. One kid says, "Mrs. This Girl, you don' t look like the type to play video games." I'm not. He is absolutely correct. They all laughed when I described myself as a nerd. They didn't believe it because now i'm a babe, but I told them about my problems with the Sunshine world on Gamecube and this digression must have been God sent because they opened up to me in a way I'd never had a group of teen guys do. Now, I realize that without girls to try to impress, I got them alot more down to earth than they would ever be with girls present, but it was nice and refreshing. And when, at the end of the class, one of the guys was talking to me and *listening* to what I was saying, his face earnest, I felt more rewarded than I'd ever felt in this job.

This reminds me of my wedding pictures...

from A Socialite's Life

When we got our wedding pictures, I remember looking through them and wondering how in the world my husband could look so perfect while I looked like I was trying to regurgitate a cat. This heartens me. Apparently, being good looking doesn't make you any more camera ready than the rest of us. Unless you're Gabriel Aubry... or The Honey.

P.S. My husband, he looks better than this man.

P.P.S. Click on link to see a bigger picture.

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Summer's Here

It's hot as hell. I find myself wondering if it has always been this hot here. I know it has, yet I wonder why I block it, like some dark secret from my past. Somehow, I find myself in the heat and I feel like I'm there more than I've ever been. I try to think back to times when I was actually doing things in this heat, swimming or tennis with humidity so high, every adult is on stroke watch. I remember those time, but I can't feel those times.

We had another couple visit us this weekend. I thought grilling out would be the easiest thing. A few hotdogs, brats, hamburgers, enjoying the lake, that would be awesome. Of course, it would have been more awesome if we had done it two months ago instead of this past Saturday. Not only was it extremely hot (I heard 99 degrees, but my stars it had to be hotter than that), I was out in the heat all day. The best part was the conflagration that was my grill. Add the heat of the day and I think I tanned a shade darker in 10 minutes, right when my charcoal briquets started to get that nice ash around them. Yet my first, big girl "all by myself" grilling experience went well. I want my own grill so that I can sit in the air conditioning while food is grilling, but enjoy the lake view if I want, because no matter what anyone says, sweat is sweat, whether we southern girls also "glisten" or not.

Long Time Coming

I love my new toenail polish. I notice my feet and I remember how much I like them. I like my feet. They have been the one thing about my body that I've consistently liked. It feels good to have something other than pink sparkle on my toes. I'm concentrating on my toes, looking at them so long, they almost become alien. Two friends of mine are having babies soon. One of them already has a two year old son, who is beautiful and smart. The other friend got married six months after I did. She's due in six months. I haven't felt this close and this far from grown up, ever. All of my friends are married. They're having kids and becoming entirely different people. Change has to happen, and it's interesting to see what is changing. One of my friends, J., said that I'd lost my edge. I didn't agree with him initially because I felt the same. It wasn't until later that I realized I had lost a bit of my edge simply because I didn't need it to protect me anymore. I'd finally met someone who was doing it all for me. I didn't ever realize I'd stop protecting myself, that I'd subconsciously given my husband permission to do so, and that I could let him do it without worrying that he wouldn't do a good job.

Marriage isn't the only thing that causes change. Time. Age. Sensibility. Even if you don't change as a result of new things in your own life, you are forced to change because of the people around you. My friends no longer had me all to themselves. My mom was no longer the strongest voice in my life. They had to adapt. So what's the biggest change you've had to make? What's the biggest change someone has made because of you? What was the biggest influence for change in your life?

When I look at my feet, I'm glad I still like them. My body is changing because I'm getting older, my metabolism is slowing down and my sedentary lifestyle and mediocre eating habits are getting the better of the rest of my body. I am trying to honor my body and live a good, long life (I still intend to enjoy it) by exercising and changing my diet. But my feet are still pretty. The green polish is radiant on my toes. They are pretty and I'm glad that hasn't changed.

Writers Write

Writing is such a big deal and I feel, everyday, as if I am falling flat on my face. Despite not having to work, I still feel like I don't have enough time to do all the things that I should be doing to be a successful writer. I don't read like I should, I watch more tv than anybody I know personally. Though I would like to write television shows, I hated living in California. So right now, the best I can hope for when it comes to television writing is a bunch of people who want so badly to write, direct and produce a television show that they are willing to do it for no pay with their own money. It is an expensive and time consuming endeavor. I would do it in a heartbeat.

The problem, mainly, is that I don't know which direction I want to go in. Writing articles is the way most writers go because it's instant gratification... well, instant as in you get paid per article, you don't necessarily have to have an agent, you can track down the work yourself, etc. Writing books requires an enormous investment of time, and may or may not be successful. It is harder to find an agent, a market, etc. Yet while finding a direction is a problem, my second problem is wanting to see the way RightNow. It is disconcerting to be in a place where the possible results of my work aren't even conceivable. I do not know where I am going. I have no idea what my goal is. When I worked at the milk and cookie shop, I knew that I wanted to manage it, so all of my thoughts, work, everything went to making that goal a reality. What is my new forward momentum now? What is my new direction?

I tell people I want to be a writer. They say, what do you write. I don't know where to begin. I dabble in short stories (I've been writing short stories since I was 13. Before that I wrote poetry.) and have a wonderful opportunity to work on article writing, but I let my writing muscles atrophy because I let myself believe what countless people told me growing up. Don't be a writer, be a teacher. I tried that route, but was not satisfied in it, although I love to teach and my ultimate goal involves teaching and writing. No, what was not satisfying was that I felt I should stifle my writing urges because I knew, otherwise, they would take over. It is not a pretty thing to give in to the voices in your head. I told my husband once that I would have stories going on in there all the time, characters talking, actions being acted out, for good or evil. I worked hard to stop it and one day the stories stopped. I regret that now.

I don't know how to turn it back on, to reach into the recesses for the people who lived there, whose lives were entertaining, where things happened so quickly I couldn't write it down. It was an ongoing story line. My dreams are even wimping out on me, not providing the fodder for writing they once did. As I look back through old notebooks of old stories, I cringe, but I long for the time when I wrote what I saw, good or bad, and was able to craft them into the stories that made my family believe in me even when there was no other evidence to support that belief.

So I will follow the mantra that many writers follow: Writers write. There is nothing else to do. There is no other course. And with the writing must come the patience to let myself develop from this ugly writing duckling into a beautiful author swan.

Obsessions

I have had various obsessions over the years. They usually involve some sort of cheese product (cheetos, chees-ums, cheese) or chocolate (peanut butter m&ms, regular m&ms, chocolate). I had a strange obsessions with Honey Bunches of Oats with Almonds that was almost possessive. I would always have at least two boxes in the house. Anyway, the real reason you're here: My current obsessions.

Right now, I would really like a shiny new MacBook. I have been looking forward to this since before MacWorld in January. I've been wanting a new laptop and thought about getting an iBook. After they got rid of the eMacs and came out with the new iMacs, my husband realized they were probably going to upgrade the iBook, so I waited... and waited... and waited. I got up early on that Tuesday, waiting to hear Steve Jobs announce the new iBook. What he introduced was the MacBook Pro and while I would have loved to get one of those, I didn't need (nor could I afford) a professional strength laptop. No, I wanted the less expensive, consumer model. I was so disappointed. I'm not sure If I'd ever been so disappointed by electronics. Every whisper of an Apple Event made me long for the new iBook. Then, quietly, Apple slides the new iBook, all shiny and white (and black if you'd like) onto their website without any fanfare and again, I'm brought to tears, but the happy kind. So, we are going to a wedding this weekend and on the way back, we will stop at the Apple Store and I will get to tap my fingers across the very beautiful, simple keyboard and ask my silly, technewb questions and nerd out about the writing software I can get for it and maybe, if the sun is shining, I will get a new MacBook and if the sun isn't, then I will get it in a few months when it is much more reasonable. But obsessions aren't reasonable and I'm sorry, honey, for always talking about it.

So, your turn. And if you're scared that your obsession is closer to my cheese obsession than to my MacBook obsession, then here's my other obsession. Magic Shell. Especially Reese's Magic Shell. Even though there is no peanut butter in the recipe, nor does it warn against peanut allergies, so, scary. But it's so good and slightly addictive. As we all know. Now share. Thanks!

Last Meal

I have an affinity to Asian foods. The sauces, the noodles. I love Japanese foods, spicy Thai foods. I tried crab rangoon once and now my judgement of a restaurant rests on their crab rangoon. I adore Italian food. It is the ultimate in guilty pleasure. Pasta, cheese, cheese, meats, sauces. Italian food is my comfort food, food I nominated most likely to make me smile on a rainy night. Of course, there's nothing like hamburgers and hotdogs on the grill, traditional southern food, fried chicken, collard greens, mashed potatoes, sweet tea, sweet potato pie, barbecued pork...

I love food, from great to small. It would be hard for me to choose my last meal, the last meal I would ever have to taste, the last thing that I have in my memory, from my memories of the life I've lived. The last meal started as kind of a karmic/superstitious attempt by the law enforcement group to have a clear conscience in putting a criminal to death. It was a time of celebration because the prisoner's acceptance of the food said he forgave them for what they were about to do. It was the prisoner's last chance to be with family, to experience the life they threw away.

My choice of food would have alot to do with the life I've lived, starting from when I was little until now. Foods that I've eaten at important times of my life, foods that have garnered praise for me. For me, this will take alot of thought. What about you? What would you last meal be, or include?

Am I Crazy...

... or are the new Mac ads hilarious? After watching them all a couple of time, the virus one is the funniest.

Of course, Mac is following in a long line of commercials that feature the preferred product as the young, slightly tossled hipster and the competing product as a slightly more fuddy duddy character. Based on the commercial, it is hilarious how clueless PC makers and users are. The fact that these commercials will go much further than researching products in changing the minds of the public about Macs is good for Mac and sad for us.

Most people I know hate their PCs. They get tired of the crashing, the viruses, the constant ad-mail checks, etc. They want something that just works. Yet most of these people never consider Macs because they are more comfortable with windows. Let me tell you, it would take less time to learn the new OS X operating system and save you frustration in the long run than it would take using AVG to scan your computer for viruses.

So, Bravo, Mac. Your use of current trends to turn people to you will work. Hopefully, it will not change the way you make computers.