I am so bad at the blogging thing.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
In which I am a dirty rotten chain breaker.
So.
That happened.
BUT:
While I know I broke the chain, important things were happening.
Things like this:
I got married!!!!!!
It was pretty amazing, and I am thrilled to be married to my favorite human in the world.
The chain is back on!
That happened.
BUT:
While I know I broke the chain, important things were happening.
Things like this:
I got married!!!!!!
It was pretty amazing, and I am thrilled to be married to my favorite human in the world.
The chain is back on!
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Five Days.
I am getting married in five days.
I am stressed about everything other than committing to Ben.
I say that that is better than the alternative.
However, it also means that I am cutting myself a little blogging slack.
I shall be brief for the next few days. I am going to try and get some pictures up so that my lack of words will not be quite so so evident.
:P
Thanks for the patience of my (as of now) limited audience.
I am stressed about everything other than committing to Ben.
I say that that is better than the alternative.
However, it also means that I am cutting myself a little blogging slack.
I shall be brief for the next few days. I am going to try and get some pictures up so that my lack of words will not be quite so so evident.
:P
Thanks for the patience of my (as of now) limited audience.
Monday, May 14, 2012
Dang, Magz.
Stop with the blogging fails.
Seriously.
I mean come on. I know that your wedding is in six days and that you needed to get your hands looking like adult hands again, and yes, you did need to re-dye your hair so that the hot pink tone it was is not so evident.
But really, did you need to watch three episodes of Bob's Burgers?
(...)
(...)
(...yes.)
Seriously.
I mean come on. I know that your wedding is in six days and that you needed to get your hands looking like adult hands again, and yes, you did need to re-dye your hair so that the hot pink tone it was is not so evident.
But really, did you need to watch three episodes of Bob's Burgers?
(...)
(...)
(...yes.)
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Mother's Day, and Banana Nut Muffins.
I had a crazy night last night, and I will go into further detail about it tomorrow.
Tonight I want to talk about Mother's Day.
My mom and I are really two peas in a pod. The same things make us angry, and we push people's buttons in the same way. This means that though we love each other to pieces, we drive each other up a wall on a fairly frequent basis. (It also means that we feel horrible in the same way about making each other insane, and have long periods of butting heads to fix said instances of turning each other nutso.)
However, tonight I want to talk about a really interesting thing that happened to me recently.
As you know if you've been reading, I have committed to writing on this blog every day. What I have not said before is that I have a separate (and also difficult) writing challenge for myself of keeping a daybook/journal/braindumpster/whathaveyou in paper form as well, with the commitment to write in it every day. The original intent was to use it for something like a planning book for this blog, to develop ideas and make them stronger for self publishing on this public forum. However, as is usually the case with me, I was having a hard time getting started.
So I wrote about my pen.
I have a strong love of office supplies that borders on obsessive-compulsive. (I am pretty sure that I also acquired this from my mother as well.) I required the paper surface for my notebook to be smooth and creamy in texture, thick but not too thick, and pens that glide, with ink that looks amazingly black and rich before it dries.
For this notebook I had treated myself to new pens, medium point black gel, that I had recognized in the store as a tool I had used before and enjoyed. I don't think I remembered where I had originally used it, but I knew it would serve in the meantime.
It was not until I wrote in the date that I remembered that this was not just a good pen. This was an AWESOME pen. Ink flowed out beautifully, with no globs in sight, giving me just the right blacker-than-black sheen before drying enough not to smudge. It made my horrible chicken scratch handwriting look nice (or if not nice, charmingly artistic.)
It came back like a punch in the stomach where I had used this pen first.
In 2008, my family went to visit my older brother in Morocco, where he was living and working at the time. I was a miserable little snot on this trip for a variety of reasons, mainly that I was not willing to admit to myself that I was already dealing with major depression. I was determined to be unhappy on this voyage, and so far was living up to my goal rather well.
On the particular day in question, we were making a jaunt to Berber territory, where there was a waterfall. We learned upon arriving that the trip to the waterfall required a significant hike up a very steep mountain. I am pretty sure that hiking is one of my private circles of hell, especially when it is 90 degrees outside. Living up to my goals once again re:miserable snottyness, I baulked and told my family that I would be staying at the bottom, thankyouverymuch. I did not desire more blisters than I had already gotten on our few days in Morocco.
My mother, bless her, decided that she would stay at the bottom of the mountain with me, where we found shade in a tiny Berber cafe. I had planned on knitting on a shawl that I was working on, but quickly got bored. My mother is an avid travel journaler, and had bought a pack of assorted gel pens for the trip. She handed me a burgundy pen, and suggested that if I was bored, I could write in my journal, or maybe get a head start on postcards.
I wrote more in that journal than I had on any trip up to that point. It was an amazing afternoon that I would not trade for anything. For several hours, I was able to forget my horrible attitude, and have a genuinely amazing time with the woman who is almost too much like me to handle.
I hope she remembers that day as fondly as I do, and I hope she knows how amazing I think she is every day, even when one of us is driving the other crazy.
I love you Mom. Happy Mother's Day.
The following clip (just to lighten the mood) is from Adaptation. I saw this clip tonight in the excellent screenwriting documentary Tales From the Script, and it illustrates the primary issue I have when writing. Take it away, Nick Cage:
Tonight I want to talk about Mother's Day.
My mom and I are really two peas in a pod. The same things make us angry, and we push people's buttons in the same way. This means that though we love each other to pieces, we drive each other up a wall on a fairly frequent basis. (It also means that we feel horrible in the same way about making each other insane, and have long periods of butting heads to fix said instances of turning each other nutso.)
However, tonight I want to talk about a really interesting thing that happened to me recently.
As you know if you've been reading, I have committed to writing on this blog every day. What I have not said before is that I have a separate (and also difficult) writing challenge for myself of keeping a daybook/journal/braindumpster/whathaveyou in paper form as well, with the commitment to write in it every day. The original intent was to use it for something like a planning book for this blog, to develop ideas and make them stronger for self publishing on this public forum. However, as is usually the case with me, I was having a hard time getting started.
So I wrote about my pen.
I have a strong love of office supplies that borders on obsessive-compulsive. (I am pretty sure that I also acquired this from my mother as well.) I required the paper surface for my notebook to be smooth and creamy in texture, thick but not too thick, and pens that glide, with ink that looks amazingly black and rich before it dries.
For this notebook I had treated myself to new pens, medium point black gel, that I had recognized in the store as a tool I had used before and enjoyed. I don't think I remembered where I had originally used it, but I knew it would serve in the meantime.
It was not until I wrote in the date that I remembered that this was not just a good pen. This was an AWESOME pen. Ink flowed out beautifully, with no globs in sight, giving me just the right blacker-than-black sheen before drying enough not to smudge. It made my horrible chicken scratch handwriting look nice (or if not nice, charmingly artistic.)
It came back like a punch in the stomach where I had used this pen first.
In 2008, my family went to visit my older brother in Morocco, where he was living and working at the time. I was a miserable little snot on this trip for a variety of reasons, mainly that I was not willing to admit to myself that I was already dealing with major depression. I was determined to be unhappy on this voyage, and so far was living up to my goal rather well.
On the particular day in question, we were making a jaunt to Berber territory, where there was a waterfall. We learned upon arriving that the trip to the waterfall required a significant hike up a very steep mountain. I am pretty sure that hiking is one of my private circles of hell, especially when it is 90 degrees outside. Living up to my goals once again re:miserable snottyness, I baulked and told my family that I would be staying at the bottom, thankyouverymuch. I did not desire more blisters than I had already gotten on our few days in Morocco.
My mother, bless her, decided that she would stay at the bottom of the mountain with me, where we found shade in a tiny Berber cafe. I had planned on knitting on a shawl that I was working on, but quickly got bored. My mother is an avid travel journaler, and had bought a pack of assorted gel pens for the trip. She handed me a burgundy pen, and suggested that if I was bored, I could write in my journal, or maybe get a head start on postcards.
I wrote more in that journal than I had on any trip up to that point. It was an amazing afternoon that I would not trade for anything. For several hours, I was able to forget my horrible attitude, and have a genuinely amazing time with the woman who is almost too much like me to handle.
I hope she remembers that day as fondly as I do, and I hope she knows how amazing I think she is every day, even when one of us is driving the other crazy.
I love you Mom. Happy Mother's Day.
The following clip (just to lighten the mood) is from Adaptation. I saw this clip tonight in the excellent screenwriting documentary Tales From the Script, and it illustrates the primary issue I have when writing. Take it away, Nick Cage:
Saturday, May 12, 2012
More storytime...
And written at a time when I am not about to keel over with exhaustion. Yay Saturdays!
In the aftermath of the crazy, I decided to let go of a major part of what was stressing me out, namely the job that was literally giving me hives. After floundering around in the unemployment pool (including working for a scam artist for a terrible week), I found a job at a costume construction shop in Manhattan, shopping for Broadway costumes. I learned a ton about fabric, being nice to doormen, the garment district, and also about not putting up with verbal abuse. (This shop was MESSED UP. The owners would routinely WAIL at the top of their lungs or scream at employees, while everyone around them would be expected to act as if nothing abnormal was happening.)
On the day that my direct supervisor decided to call me stupid to my face, I decided enough was enough. I marched down to one of the fabric shops where I had been a frequent patron with my resume, and was fortunate enough to have walked in right as they were hiring for Halloween (the busiest time in fabric-shoppingdom), so I was asked if I could come in the next Monday. I've been working there ever since (starting on the sales floor, then having them figure out that I'm bad at sales but good at talking to people, so being moved to giving tours and chatting with out of towners, and finally to my current position of being receptionist/Director of Student Activities.)
Just found out that we have to be in CA by August 20th. Dates are exciting and scary.
In the aftermath of the crazy, I decided to let go of a major part of what was stressing me out, namely the job that was literally giving me hives. After floundering around in the unemployment pool (including working for a scam artist for a terrible week), I found a job at a costume construction shop in Manhattan, shopping for Broadway costumes. I learned a ton about fabric, being nice to doormen, the garment district, and also about not putting up with verbal abuse. (This shop was MESSED UP. The owners would routinely WAIL at the top of their lungs or scream at employees, while everyone around them would be expected to act as if nothing abnormal was happening.)
On the day that my direct supervisor decided to call me stupid to my face, I decided enough was enough. I marched down to one of the fabric shops where I had been a frequent patron with my resume, and was fortunate enough to have walked in right as they were hiring for Halloween (the busiest time in fabric-shoppingdom), so I was asked if I could come in the next Monday. I've been working there ever since (starting on the sales floor, then having them figure out that I'm bad at sales but good at talking to people, so being moved to giving tours and chatting with out of towners, and finally to my current position of being receptionist/Director of Student Activities.)
Just found out that we have to be in CA by August 20th. Dates are exciting and scary.
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