Thursday, September 28, 2006

Pardon my meme...

...but I’ve been resting. And recharging. And fighting the Lifecycle of a Blogger Step 5 (actually, it would probably be Step 11 at this point, since I’ve been doing this since 2003) urge to take a hiatus or stop blogging altogether. I think I just need a break (and a free weekend with no commitments and the first two seasons of Northern Exposure on DVD).

I snagged this meme from the always-creative Carbon Press.

WHAT I'LL NEVER DO, AND THAT'S OK:
Be a celebrity.
Run for office.
Have children.
Kill my television.
Write the songs that make the whole world sing.
Be a vegetarian.

WHAT I'VE DONE, AND WOULD LIKE TO DO AGAIN:
Roller skate while wearing a fluffy skirt.
Plant night-blooming jasmine outside of my windows so I can smell it throughout the house.
Turn fact into fiction.
Window shop King Street in December when the holiday lights are up and twinkling.
Screw convention.

WHAT I'VE DONE, AND WILL HAVE TO DO AGAIN:
Travel solo.
Remove someone from my friends list. My real friends list, not MySpace.
Lose my temper in a big way.
Write my way out of a paper bag.

WHAT I WON'T DO AGAIN:
Have a dog.
Cry in front of people.
Shop at a “larger sizes” store (nothing wrong with it; been there, don’t want to go back again now that I can buy off the rack anywhere).
Date someone I can’t stand just to be dating someone.
Hard drugs.

WHAT I MAY STILL GET TO DO:
Publish a book.
Live in Portofino.
Buy a house.
Meet The One.
Change the world.
Be 90 years old.

Thursday, September 21, 2006

Life equals love equals death. It's symbolic.*

I am a wannabe art collector. I love photography and sculpture and collage and other random bits of creative ephemera. I'm always amazed at the glimpse you can get into someone else's mind through the pieces they create. It makes me more creative. Besides my own collaging and painting and tiny sketches, I've written short stories based on paintings, long stories based on woodblock prints, and part of a novel based on tattoo art.

Last year, I bought a print of a photo by Lolly Koon that hangs in my bathroom. It's the one on her "narrative" page of the two sinks and two mirrors and the reflection of the girl with wings. It makes me feel happy whenever I look at it.

Last month, I bought the #3 collection from North Drive Press. It's a box with work from multiple designers and artists - postcards, posters, pocket art, short stories printed in little books...even a 7-inch record. I'm still digging my way through it, but I love, love, love my one-in-500 piece of the art world.

Currently coveting: Gayle Brooker's portraits (particularly the cigarette girl), Bespoke's Photographic Notice boards ("Girl Getting Out of Car" would look good in my office), this little piece from one of the ArtSquared artists, and just about anything by Alie Ward (particularly the "no I want you to have it" piece that's been sold).

Creation begets creativity. Even if you don't (or won't) call yourself an artist, writing an artist's statement is almost as good as therapy. Summer Pierre's wonderful 30 Days of Images makes me believe I can be endlessly inspired. Jenny Holzer's Truisms are both entertaining and heart-wrenching.

Put it out there. Keep it moving. And keep Hugh Macleod's "How to Be Creative" list on hand to read the next time you stall out.

*quote from the movie "If Lucy Fell" in which Ben Stiller plays an artist named Bwick Elias.

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Do you like me? Check yes or no...

This makes me want to throw myself on the floor and cry. I am more tired of "how to date" crap than I am of actual dating. Some observations from the past couple of years of the World of Dating:

1. Singing "there's a monster in my pants and it really wants to dance" is not a good way to impress me if we met 10 minutes ago. However, it's a great way to entertain me if we've passed casual hugging and moved on to groping.

2. I know why you date women in their 20s. Because women over 30 care if you change your sheets. What's my point? I'm saying that I'm not sleeping over.

3. If what you said in between was more interesting, it wouldn't bother me so much that you keep saying "um" and "like."

4. The terms of your divorce and child support are none of my business. And though you'd think that calling your ex a bloodsucking she-devil in my presence would serve to make me think you like me more, it actually makes me think you hate all women.

5. When I say I'd like to be friends, I am not blowing you off. I am telling you in a nice way that we're not going to Do It until I know you better. If I wanted to blow you off, I'd tell you to lose my number as I set fire to yours. In front of you.

My feet hurt, I have a hair headache from the f*cking rubber band, my face aches from smiling, but that Ken is just so darn dreamy.

If there was a way to skip all of the "here's my life" and "tell me about yourself" awkwardness, I'd totally do it. Drinking used to make it more comfortable. Now I want to hand them my blog address, my resume, and the first draft of my novel, tell them to read every word and then call me if they still want to.

I've never been one of those Need-a-Man women. I don't have Need-a-Man friends. And I can't even guess how many times I've said the following: "I spent too much time with the wrong people. If I never meet the right one, I'll be fine with that."

If I feel like I'm too old for this now, how am I going to feel in 10 years? 20? Should I get out the knitting and fuzzy bathrobe? Start spending evenings watching Law & Order? (it's my generation's Murder She Wrote.)

Is there a void? Sometimes. But it isn't large enough for me to make certain compromises. Instead of assuming that I have a black hole where my heart should be, let's just call me single and holding and try to be okay with that.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Good night and good luck...

Since Katie Couric put out a call to viewers to offer suggestions for a new signoff catch phrase, I think it's time to update my own. My email signoff, that is, considering that I'm not hosting the evening news. I most often sign off with "all best," or "best," in emails. If it's a good friend, then I use "rock on" or (even better) "later, gator." How creative of me! I need a new schtick.

Some new ideas for signing off (keep in mind that they have to be fairly professional because most of my emails are work-related):
* "Blessings," or alternately, "blessed be" (this is to get back at all of the "namastes" I receive).
* "AAAs and BBBs" (because I don't know you well enough for XXXs and OOOs).
* "Stay special!!!" (I mined my high school yearbook for that one; the triple-exclamation is integral).
* "BUH-bye" (too 1990s-era SNL?).
* "Try again later" (inspired by the Magic 8-Ball I use to make work-related decisions).
* "See you in Hell" (this one just feels right).

What do you think?

Monday, September 11, 2006

Some things we will never forget...

Like where you were when it happened, how you heard, who you were with, what you did. Every anniversary, one year, three years, five, you will remember these things. And hopefully, you will remember how it made you feel and act, how you planned on making changes, how you wanted to be a better person, live more, stop being afraid. Hopefully you will remember those things too.

Five years ago today...
When I heard for the first time I was in my car, listening to NPR. I was on my way to work at a newspaper. I heard "plane" and "New York" and "World Trade Center." I remember thinking that it must have been an accident, then watching the TV in the conference room and realizing that it wasn't, feeling like the world was ending, and wondering where they'd hit next. And then I went to Vickery's and drank a lot of vodka in the middle of the day until I had to leave because some people were yelling at the television and the person I was with kept wanting to talk terrorism and politics and all I could think about are those people, those buildings, and how now I don't have to wonder what I would do if I found out the world was ending because I really thought it was on that day and the only thing I didn't want was to be sober for it. Some people I worked with went home to be with husbands or wives or boyfriends or girlfriends or parents or children. I remember some commentator on CNN saying that we should be with the people we love right now and I remember thinking I didn't love anyone enough to want to be with them right then. The person I was with would not have been my first choice with whom to spend my last day on earth. So I got drunk instead, at some point switched from vodka to tequila and sat at my house with the poor substitute watching the news until Michael came home and then I went upstairs and passed out and dreamed about fire and falling and not being able to breathe and being alone. When I woke up the next morning, the world was still there.

Sunday, September 10, 2006

Clearing away the rust of the week...*

If I had TiVo, I wouldn’t have to debate over sleeping late or waking before 9 to watch CBS Sunday Morning. I like to wake up at 10 or 10:30 on Sundays.

At 10:30 this morning, The Cat was in her usual place on the area rug in my sunroom/office glaring at me because her spot of sunshine was MISSING. And I actually said, “I can’t make the sun come out.”

I love to putter. I listen to the podcast of American Public Media’s Weekend America while I do dishes, wash clothes, put library books for return in a stack by the door, spray the tub and shower with Mr. Clean Extra Power, repot a plant, shake out the duvet, fluff couch pillows…

Sunday afternoon naps are my favorite. I need my beauty sleep.

If it doesn't rain, I might take the bike out for a spin.

The most excitement I want on a Sunday would be something like the season premiere of Family Guy, which is tonight.

(*quote by Joseph Addison, "Sunday clears away the rust of the whole week.")

Thursday, September 07, 2006

Caution: Roving packs of dominant females...

I've been called any number of the following: Control freak. Pushy. Confident. Aggressive. Forceful. Dominant. Hyperambitious. Disagreeable. Bitch.

In honor of all of the above, my essay from this month's Skirt.

Please don't send me emails asking (1) who Anna Wintour and Sallie Krawcheck are, (2) telling me I shouldn't "tone it down" if you've never met me in person, or (3) hate me for being an Alpha. Out of gratitude, I will offer the following: The working world does not consist of hugs and pink Twinkies and there is no crying in baseball.
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...