Monday, January 30, 2006

My funny Valentine...
I always fall just a tiny bit in love with funny men. Like this one. And this one. And maybe even this one.

Strangely, most of the men I dated in the past were somewhat lacking in the humor department. Or if they did have a sense of humor, I wasn't privy to it. I have friends who have funny boyfriends or husbands and, even though I think it would be a laugh-a-minute (or at least a laugh-a-day) at their house, they rarely think he's as funny as the rest of us think he is. I guess Funnyboy isn't so funny when he leaves his dishes in the sink and pees all over the toilet seat.

However, my logic in thinking I could have a stable relationship with someone who makes me laugh is that I have a tendency to take myself a little too seriously. If my significant other was able to laugh off certain neurotic predilections, it doesn't seem likely that arguments would make it to the "please get out of my sight before I do something drastic" stage. Not to mention that funny people are usually a little more laid back and he probably wouldn't (a) insist on knowing where I am every minute of the day, (b) get worked up because I have male friends, or (c) freak out because I might write about what he just did or said.

If I took out a personal ad, it would read: Aspiring blithe spirit seeks witty and weird over 30 for fun and companionship. Long-term possibility if you are Seth Macfarlane. Dark side a plus. No slapstick, Steven Wrights, or Stooges.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

"Woman is opaque in her very being..."
When you're as opinionated as I (seem to be), you have to develop a thick skin. Vary from your stubborn idealogy and you become a hypocrite. Or a poseur. The fact is, I change my mind a lot. And I let it be changed. It's not easy being open minded and obstinate at the same time, but I somehow manage to swing it. For example:

The literary fiction snob is reading
Tori Amos: Piece by Piece
It’s a bio/auto-bio all about the life of Tori Amos. It's light, fluffy, and utterly fascinating. She's so cool.

The not-so-nimble-fingered girl is
knitting with delicate yarn. I usually knit with bulky yarn because my knitting skills are at a third grade level, but I bought some pretty new yarn at Knit last week and thought I’d give it a shot. So far, so good...though it has taken me two days to knit about three inches. And it looks like a spider's web. But that's cool.

The rocker chick is listening to
Mary J. Blige, The Breakthrough.
Best song: Cover of “One” by U2 in a duet with Bono. My musical tastes are pretty eclectic, despite what I'd have people believe. So maybe my CD labeled "Thrash Metal" is really Neil Diamond. And my torch for Dean Martin burns brighter than the one I have for Rob Zombie. I'm still cool.

It's not enough to precipitate an existential crisis, but if I start scrapbooking, line dancing, going to Star Wars conventions, or reading Harry Potter books, bring on the intervention. Please.

Monday, January 23, 2006

All din, all the time...
The City is continuing its "streetscape" project right outside our office windows. In case you're wondering what a streetscape project sounds like, imagine one of Hell's demons set loose in a Highly Breakable Objects warehouse with a jackhammer. It sounds something like that, except with four or five Hell's demons who never take lunch breaks. The resulting racket means that my usually alternately chatty-quiet office is too noisy to hear someone speaking from three feet away, hear the phone ring, or even hear myself think.

And hearing yourself think is important when you're writing. If you can't concentrate, everything you write takes on a nonsensical quality and you actually misunderstand yourself. Example: You're ticking away on the keyboard, much like this, except you have to stop every 15 seconds [WHATDIDSHEJUSTSAYMATRICIDE] because your brain [DIDIFEEDTHECAT] is generating random [UNBEARABLELIGHTNESSOFBEINGWASAGOODMOVIE] phrases and casual [SOMETHINGSMELLS..DOESSOMETHINGSMELL...IBETITSHER] observations without regard [SAMROCKWELLISCRAZYHOT] for what you're working on.

Thursday, January 19, 2006

She's mucking around with the design again...
She likes change.
She is easily bored and not easily amused.
She suspected the orange-salmon-ish background was at fault for her frequent headaches.
She's been having neurotic thoughts.
She made a new masthead.
She changed the background color.
She doesn't want to fight about it.
She promises to stop referring to herself in the third person very soon.

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

There’s a reason it’s called “falling...”
In pursuit of ideas while working on my latest essay on the theme “Passion,” I decided to break the seal on a box of notebooks I wrote when I was in my early 20s (boxed and taped up in 1996). Reading my 22-year-old self fervently swear she’ll never fall in love again makes me feel sad, mostly because she didn’t. Almost, but not really. The funny thing is, I can’t decide if I’m better or worse off now than I was then. And until I do, I don’t have an ending.

Is it better to...
have a heart of glass or harden your heart?
make a move or get a move on?
be head over heels or in over your head?
go crawling back or crawl into your shell?
fall hard or fall flat on your face?
lose your head or lose your heart?

Suppose love came knocking on your door. Would you turn it away with a “sorry, all stocked up here?” Pretend like you weren’t home? Chase it down the street with a baseball bat? Or would you smile, open the door, and thank it for being so punctual?

I feel like I’ve spent the last 10 years not paying attention in class and just found out there might be a test.

Monday, January 16, 2006

I was wrong. Please come back. I miss you.
Really, I didn't think I'd miss my digital cable as much as I do. Apparently, I'm watching WAY too much television. And I'm having self-esteem issues with myself, as I have to remind myself that I only have REGULAR cable now, that there is NO FOURTH REMOTE, and I can't hit buttons to make the TV tell me what the channel I'm watching is showing RIGHT NOW.

I've passed denial, anger and bargaining, now I'm on to depression. Acceptance is right around the corner. We're going to get through this. Yes we are.

To ease my suffering, I visited The Redhead's DVD lending library (thanks, Erin!) and borrowed the following: 28 Days Later, Secretary, Unbreakable, Pirates of the Caribbean, and a special edition Seven. I've seen Secretary, but only once when it came out at the theater. Turns out I'd seen 28 Days Later also, but didn't realize I had until about an hour into the movie. Maybe a little more reading and a little less vacantly staring at the people who inhabit my television would do my brain cells some good.

Interesting thing I noted while browsing The Redhead's collection: She doesn't have any "embarrassing" DVDs - you know, the ones we buy because it sounds like a good idea at the time, or the ones we hide of the movies you love but never admit to anyone. Like Good Burger (shut up!). The Wraith (Charlie Sheen drives a killer Dodge!). Breakin' 2 Electric Boogaloo (shut up!). Piranha. Pirahna II. Leprechaun. Leprechaun 2. Flash Gordon ("Flash....ahhahhhh...savior of the universe..." Again, shut up!). I think the most embarrassing movie Erin had was The Cutting Edge, and I can't talk smack about it because Michael loves that one too. Of course, she could be hiding Vampires Los Muertos or Frankenhooker under the couch. One never knows, does one?

Thursday, January 12, 2006

I like to look at pretty pictures...
If loving graphic novels makes me a geek, then a geek I shall be. I read them when I feel like words are a burden, when information overload makes my head hurt, and when I just want to be entertained. Don't make me explain that graphic novels are different from comic books. Just get one, read it, and we'll figure out that whole mess later.

This is the web site of Craig Thompson, the artist and writer of Blankets and Goodbye Chunky Rice. I love this site. I think I would love any site that began with "doot doot."

"How satisfying it is to leave a mark on a blank surface. To make a map of my movement – no matter how temporary."
- Craig Thompson (from Blankets)

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Confessions of a reformed bad girl...
As a society, we're fascinated by the stories of liars, cheats, thieves, and drug addicts. And then we're surprised when they lie, cheat, or steal? Unfortunately, this dumbass had to call his work "nonfiction memoir" and go on Oprah to talk about it. If he had called it fiction, he probably wouldn't have made the bestseller list. Then again, that Da Vinci Code piece of crap did.

Am I being cynical? I realize that people can change, but they don't always do so. If I wrote an essay about being a pathological liar, and then was outed for lying about it, would you be shocked?

If the answer is yes, wait until my own memoir is published, then be outraged when I (a) sleep with your husband, (b) do all of your drugs, (c) get the promotion you've been gunning for at work, or (d) throw you under a bus. Or (e) all of the above.

Friday, January 06, 2006

Please delete my name from your list...
I love this idea. Instead of sweating out my uberlist of 106 New Year's Resolutions, I could have just cancelled a few things and saved the energy. But I love checking things off, so I'll keep the uberlist tradition and replace "Life: Do more volunteer work" with "cancel some stuff."

What I've cancelled so far:
*Digital cable. Back to "preferred basic." Losing 300-something channels won't kill me. I'm not sure if losing HBO will or not. I'll let you know.
*My subscriptions to Paper and Radar. It's not the same , but I can get by reading them online. I'm not cancelling Bust though.
*Three e-mail subscriptions to health newsletters. Including RealAge.
*Weekly organic produce delivery (OK, that was last year, but I think it counts since I'm still missing it).

What I'd like to cancel:
*My student loan.
*Reality television.
*That one little black hair that shows up every few months under my chin.

Go ahead. Cancel something. It feels pretty good.

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

This year is going to be all about momentous change...
If the Rest-of-my-Life list works, I'll be sprouting happiness like a Chia pet.

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

This is my brain on vacation...
Too much TV, sleep, and time on my hands made me foggy and dim. I felt like Mr. Magoo stumbling all over the place getting out of bed this morning. I think I fell asleep in the shower for a minute because I clearly forgot to use conditioner. I made instant oatmeal for breakfast with cold water (basically creating a gritty, gluey mush instead of oatmeal...I ate it anyway). I poked myself in the eye with a pen a little while ago.

See? This is what happens to reformed workaholics. This didn't happen on my last vacation (the one during which I stripped wallpaper and painted two rooms in my house and wrote in between coats, actually working more hours than I do when I'm not on vacation). I can't seem to pull out of this fog and I'm afraid I'm permanently stupid now (*A side note: that thing I used to think about happiness increasing in correlation with IQ decreasing, therefore stupid = happy? Not true).

This year, any vacation longer than two days will involve: (a) a temp job waiting tables at Olive Garden, (b) community service requiring me to be somewhere daily before 10am, or (c) boot camp.
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...