Thursday, March 04, 2010
Girl power... and RAGE
I will preface this by saying I have been to happy hour with the girls. Coherency is not necessarily at the forefront right now but passion is... I write when passion overtakes me. So here goes. Forgive my lack of editorial prowess. Not to mention the profanity.
I have a friend... we're not close. She's actually the friend of a friend but I care about her. She's a nice person and... well... GIRL POWER, you know? Anyway. She's in an abusive relationship. I can't even fathom this. If Mr. Cake ever hit me, I would f-ck his sh*t up. Like, BAD. Without a second thought. But he would never do that. And after an evening with my friend, I want to hug and kiss him until he squeals. Because he's a good guy. He loves me and respects me and would NEVER intentionally hurt me.
I don't understand this relationship my friend is in. She says, "I'm going to get hit tonight. I got my hair cut and I smell like beer." WHAT???? WHAT THE F-CK????????? I want to punch and scream and throw a tantrum when I hear that. How can she live with that? HOW??? WHY?!?!?!?
Mr. Cake may not always like my choices or my actions. And he may get a little passive agressive by leaving dirty dishes for me or piling my stray shoes on my side of the bed to make a point... but dear god, the man would never intentionally HURT me.
The only person I love more than Mr. Cake is Connor Cake. And I love myself only a millimeter less than I love Mr. Cake. In drunken, Thirsty Thursday, Happy Hour measurements, I love Mr. Cake, Connor Cake and myself incrementally about the same. For this reason I don't put up with sh*t as it pertains to abuse of any one of those three people. Meaning Mr. Cake, Connor Cake and myself.
If anyone or anything threatens those three people... meaning Mr. Cake, Connor Cake, or myself... I will not stop until that person or thing is annihilated or otherwise contained in such a way that it is no longer a threat. I will get shrill and I will flail around and throw punches. I will contemplate vehicular homocide. I will look around for heavy blunt objects. And to only a slightly lesser degree I feel this way about my friends and family. You know - the people I love and respect.
I want to kick and punch the bad guys. Until its a straight up crime scene. I would lay down a blood bath of insanity if the people I love are threatened. I guess I'm a very LUCKY person that I've never had to officially take this action. I've gotten mouthy. I've gotten bitchy. I've never had to actually shoot anyone. But I swear to f-cking god I would if I had to. No questions asked. Life in prison is no contest against saving someone I love from being hurt.
My friend S.B. (who I know the abused friend through) said, "This is what I go through all the time with her. Don't you see? Until she wants to get away from him, there's nothing we can do!" And sadly, I realize THERE ISN'T. So the victim becomes the villian. I want to shake her. I want her to SEE. I want her to see how beautiful she is and how she doesn't deserve this awful treatment. How there are men out there - who are worthy of respect - who will respect her in return.
I could never love... or respect... or even tolerate... a man who would be abusive towards a woman. Its disgusting. Its one of the most disgusting and repulsive things I can think of. It makes me physically sick and furious at the same time. And I've had such a bad week at work that I want to get my hands on this man and hurt him. Hurt him in worse ways than he hurts my friend. But what does that say about ME? Does that make me no better than him?
I disdain traditional feminism because I kind of feel like feminists need to lighten up... but moments like this make me a true believer. Women are traditionally taken advantage of and are easily made powerless. We are made to feel worthless. Men capitalize on our emotions. Men easily have the upper hand 90% of the time. So much of our world is patriarchal and women are marginalized. Yet without women there would be no world. If we stopped reproducing it would all end. Finis. Finito. Adios motherf-ckers.
Every man has a woman to thank for his existance. But how many men really truly appreciate the fact that without a vagina they would not exist? Its not a particularly manly thing to appreciate, is it?
This horrible abusive man... I have a little "Back to the Future" fantasy... I wish I could have shut the productivity of his mother's womb down in time to save the world from him. He has no worth. There is nothing he could do to make me appreciate his existance. What purpose does he serve if he spends one second abusing a woman? none. NONE WHATSOEVER.
Its horrifying. This terrible, abusive man is HORRIFYING. And my rage toward him horrifies me. The fact that I could imagine myself kicking and biting and scratching and punching and committing countless forms of violence against this man horrifies me to no end. God help me when I sober up. It'll probably be even more horrifying then. But it sure as sh*t won't be any less true.
I have a friend... we're not close. She's actually the friend of a friend but I care about her. She's a nice person and... well... GIRL POWER, you know? Anyway. She's in an abusive relationship. I can't even fathom this. If Mr. Cake ever hit me, I would f-ck his sh*t up. Like, BAD. Without a second thought. But he would never do that. And after an evening with my friend, I want to hug and kiss him until he squeals. Because he's a good guy. He loves me and respects me and would NEVER intentionally hurt me.
I don't understand this relationship my friend is in. She says, "I'm going to get hit tonight. I got my hair cut and I smell like beer." WHAT???? WHAT THE F-CK????????? I want to punch and scream and throw a tantrum when I hear that. How can she live with that? HOW??? WHY?!?!?!?
Mr. Cake may not always like my choices or my actions. And he may get a little passive agressive by leaving dirty dishes for me or piling my stray shoes on my side of the bed to make a point... but dear god, the man would never intentionally HURT me.
The only person I love more than Mr. Cake is Connor Cake. And I love myself only a millimeter less than I love Mr. Cake. In drunken, Thirsty Thursday, Happy Hour measurements, I love Mr. Cake, Connor Cake and myself incrementally about the same. For this reason I don't put up with sh*t as it pertains to abuse of any one of those three people. Meaning Mr. Cake, Connor Cake and myself.
If anyone or anything threatens those three people... meaning Mr. Cake, Connor Cake, or myself... I will not stop until that person or thing is annihilated or otherwise contained in such a way that it is no longer a threat. I will get shrill and I will flail around and throw punches. I will contemplate vehicular homocide. I will look around for heavy blunt objects. And to only a slightly lesser degree I feel this way about my friends and family. You know - the people I love and respect.
I want to kick and punch the bad guys. Until its a straight up crime scene. I would lay down a blood bath of insanity if the people I love are threatened. I guess I'm a very LUCKY person that I've never had to officially take this action. I've gotten mouthy. I've gotten bitchy. I've never had to actually shoot anyone. But I swear to f-cking god I would if I had to. No questions asked. Life in prison is no contest against saving someone I love from being hurt.
My friend S.B. (who I know the abused friend through) said, "This is what I go through all the time with her. Don't you see? Until she wants to get away from him, there's nothing we can do!" And sadly, I realize THERE ISN'T. So the victim becomes the villian. I want to shake her. I want her to SEE. I want her to see how beautiful she is and how she doesn't deserve this awful treatment. How there are men out there - who are worthy of respect - who will respect her in return.
I could never love... or respect... or even tolerate... a man who would be abusive towards a woman. Its disgusting. Its one of the most disgusting and repulsive things I can think of. It makes me physically sick and furious at the same time. And I've had such a bad week at work that I want to get my hands on this man and hurt him. Hurt him in worse ways than he hurts my friend. But what does that say about ME? Does that make me no better than him?
I disdain traditional feminism because I kind of feel like feminists need to lighten up... but moments like this make me a true believer. Women are traditionally taken advantage of and are easily made powerless. We are made to feel worthless. Men capitalize on our emotions. Men easily have the upper hand 90% of the time. So much of our world is patriarchal and women are marginalized. Yet without women there would be no world. If we stopped reproducing it would all end. Finis. Finito. Adios motherf-ckers.
Every man has a woman to thank for his existance. But how many men really truly appreciate the fact that without a vagina they would not exist? Its not a particularly manly thing to appreciate, is it?
This horrible abusive man... I have a little "Back to the Future" fantasy... I wish I could have shut the productivity of his mother's womb down in time to save the world from him. He has no worth. There is nothing he could do to make me appreciate his existance. What purpose does he serve if he spends one second abusing a woman? none. NONE WHATSOEVER.
Its horrifying. This terrible, abusive man is HORRIFYING. And my rage toward him horrifies me. The fact that I could imagine myself kicking and biting and scratching and punching and committing countless forms of violence against this man horrifies me to no end. God help me when I sober up. It'll probably be even more horrifying then. But it sure as sh*t won't be any less true.
Wednesday, March 03, 2010
Weary
This morning I came to work to find an email from a co-worker... Subject line was "Things that make you go hmmmm..." General gist of the message was "thought you might want to take a look at this."
The PDF attachment was training content. It featured the logo of one of our major competitors and other identifying information. Except... the content was material that I wrote. Those mother f-ckers got our intellectual property - stuff I have slaved over and been abused about and taken flack for over the past 2 years - and repackaged it WORD FOR WORD.
Its no suprise. The world is a cold, hateful place and stuff like this happens. But its disappointing to say the least. Not to mention that the industry I work in has faced a lot of criticism over the years due to ethical issues. Recent upheaval and stronger regulations are supposedly "raising the bar in the industry and weeding out the unscrupulous players."
One of the ways the bar is supposedly being raised is by requiring minimum education to qualify for licensing. Which is where the company I work for comes in. We are approved to provide the education. But riddle me this Batman... how is the bar being raised when our competitors are just as shady and unethical as the scumbags that the education is intended to weed out??
I get a lot of grief because I tend to have a negative attitude - approach my world with the glass half empty. But honestly, a positive attitude is hard to come by when this is the kind of stuff life is made of. However, I will concede to one positive... despite the never ending criticism I get about my work, at least it was good enough for our scumbag competitor to steal and distribute with no changes.
The PDF attachment was training content. It featured the logo of one of our major competitors and other identifying information. Except... the content was material that I wrote. Those mother f-ckers got our intellectual property - stuff I have slaved over and been abused about and taken flack for over the past 2 years - and repackaged it WORD FOR WORD.
Its no suprise. The world is a cold, hateful place and stuff like this happens. But its disappointing to say the least. Not to mention that the industry I work in has faced a lot of criticism over the years due to ethical issues. Recent upheaval and stronger regulations are supposedly "raising the bar in the industry and weeding out the unscrupulous players."
One of the ways the bar is supposedly being raised is by requiring minimum education to qualify for licensing. Which is where the company I work for comes in. We are approved to provide the education. But riddle me this Batman... how is the bar being raised when our competitors are just as shady and unethical as the scumbags that the education is intended to weed out??
I get a lot of grief because I tend to have a negative attitude - approach my world with the glass half empty. But honestly, a positive attitude is hard to come by when this is the kind of stuff life is made of. However, I will concede to one positive... despite the never ending criticism I get about my work, at least it was good enough for our scumbag competitor to steal and distribute with no changes.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
You can't stop wishin' if you don't let go...
I'm known to be a practical and rather cynical person. But there is an element of daydreamer in me. I think it comes out most when I'm feeling lost or not anchored. Drifting, maybe.
The last 2 months have been difficult. Reason doesn't matter... because honestly there is no real reason. Or at least in my mind there is no real reason. No acts of God, no death or destruction. Its work. Its life. Its all the little things that add up. Its the fact that 2009 worked its way up to a soul crushing crescendo and 2010 has provided no respite.... frankly, I'm just exhausted.
Anyway, my drifty flakiness manifests itself in silly ways... like imaging everyday moments are set to music. You know... the soundtrack of my life. The song that keeps playing over and over right now is Breakdown by Handsome Boys Modelling School (feat. Jack Johnson). Its melancholy but hopeful I guess? I listen to it almost everyday on my ride to and from work. Some days it brings comfort... sort of that feeling where you have worked really hard and you're mentally and physically tired and it feels so good to just sit down... but other days it makes me really sad.
I guess I imagine myself standing all alone while the whole world speeds past me. Feeling a little dizzy, a little sick. Unable to catch my breath. Not exhilerated but fearful and panicky. Unable to hold on. Getting ready to fall.
I've been searching for something for a really long time and maybe 2010 is the year to get down to brass tacks. I'm not quite sure that "it" is but lack of it leaves a ragged hole in me. I'm weary of living without it, whatever it is. Maybe I'm meant to improve something... whether its me... our circumstances... whatever. Or maybe I'm just on the verge of going crazy. Not hearing voices. Yet. So who knows.
♫ I hope this old train breaks down
So I can take a walk around and
See there’s no time you see 'cause
Time is just a melody
But the people in the streets
Walkin’ fast as their feet can take ‘em
I just rode through town
And though this window’s got a view
But the frame I’m lookin’ through
Seems to have no concern for now so for now
I need this here
Old train to breakdown
Oh please just
Let me please breakdown
I need this here
Old train to breakdown
Well this engine screams out loud
Centipede gonna crawl westbound and
I don't even make a sound 'cause
It’s gonna sting me to leave this town
And the people in the streets
That I’ll never get to meet
If these tracks don't bend somehow
And I got no time
that I got to get to where I don’t need to be
Said...
I need this here
Old train to breakdown
Oh please just
Let me please breakdown
I need this here
Old train to breakdown
Let me please break down
You know you can't stop nothin’
If you got no control
Over the thoughts in your mind
That you kept and you know
That you don’t know nothin’
But you don’t need to know’
Cause all the wisdom’s in the trees
Not the glass windows
You can't stop wishin’ if you don’t let go / I need this here
Of the things that you find and you lose and you know / Old train to breakdown
But you keep on rolling put the moment on hold / Oh please just
But the frames too bright with the blinds down low / Let me please breakdown
You know you can't stop nothin’ / I need this here
If you got no control
Over the thoughts in your mind / Old train to breakdown
That you kept and you know
That you don’t know nothin’ / Oh please just
But you don’t need to know’
Cause all the wisdom’s in the trees / Let me please breakdown
Not the glass windows
You can't stop wishin’ if you don’t let go / I need this here
Of the things that you find and you lose and you know / Old train to breakdown
But you keep on rolling put the moment on hold / Oh please just
But the frames too bright with the blinds down low / Let me please breakdown ♫
The last 2 months have been difficult. Reason doesn't matter... because honestly there is no real reason. Or at least in my mind there is no real reason. No acts of God, no death or destruction. Its work. Its life. Its all the little things that add up. Its the fact that 2009 worked its way up to a soul crushing crescendo and 2010 has provided no respite.... frankly, I'm just exhausted.
Anyway, my drifty flakiness manifests itself in silly ways... like imaging everyday moments are set to music. You know... the soundtrack of my life. The song that keeps playing over and over right now is Breakdown by Handsome Boys Modelling School (feat. Jack Johnson). Its melancholy but hopeful I guess? I listen to it almost everyday on my ride to and from work. Some days it brings comfort... sort of that feeling where you have worked really hard and you're mentally and physically tired and it feels so good to just sit down... but other days it makes me really sad.
I guess I imagine myself standing all alone while the whole world speeds past me. Feeling a little dizzy, a little sick. Unable to catch my breath. Not exhilerated but fearful and panicky. Unable to hold on. Getting ready to fall.
I've been searching for something for a really long time and maybe 2010 is the year to get down to brass tacks. I'm not quite sure that "it" is but lack of it leaves a ragged hole in me. I'm weary of living without it, whatever it is. Maybe I'm meant to improve something... whether its me... our circumstances... whatever. Or maybe I'm just on the verge of going crazy. Not hearing voices. Yet. So who knows.
♫ I hope this old train breaks down
So I can take a walk around and
See there’s no time you see 'cause
Time is just a melody
But the people in the streets
Walkin’ fast as their feet can take ‘em
I just rode through town
And though this window’s got a view
But the frame I’m lookin’ through
Seems to have no concern for now so for now
I need this here
Old train to breakdown
Oh please just
Let me please breakdown
I need this here
Old train to breakdown
Well this engine screams out loud
Centipede gonna crawl westbound and
I don't even make a sound 'cause
It’s gonna sting me to leave this town
And the people in the streets
That I’ll never get to meet
If these tracks don't bend somehow
And I got no time
that I got to get to where I don’t need to be
Said...
I need this here
Old train to breakdown
Oh please just
Let me please breakdown
I need this here
Old train to breakdown
Let me please break down
You know you can't stop nothin’
If you got no control
Over the thoughts in your mind
That you kept and you know
That you don’t know nothin’
But you don’t need to know’
Cause all the wisdom’s in the trees
Not the glass windows
You can't stop wishin’ if you don’t let go / I need this here
Of the things that you find and you lose and you know / Old train to breakdown
But you keep on rolling put the moment on hold / Oh please just
But the frames too bright with the blinds down low / Let me please breakdown
You know you can't stop nothin’ / I need this here
If you got no control
Over the thoughts in your mind / Old train to breakdown
That you kept and you know
That you don’t know nothin’ / Oh please just
But you don’t need to know’
Cause all the wisdom’s in the trees / Let me please breakdown
Not the glass windows
You can't stop wishin’ if you don’t let go / I need this here
Of the things that you find and you lose and you know / Old train to breakdown
But you keep on rolling put the moment on hold / Oh please just
But the frames too bright with the blinds down low / Let me please breakdown ♫
Saturday, February 06, 2010
Dear Blogger and Google...
This is just a test. You've made me miserable with your decision to longer support FTP/SMTP. I always thought since I owned my own domain I was in the clear for changes like this. I pay people in CA to keep a giant network of servers plugged in so I don't have to deal with anything more technical or complicated than pouring my heart out right here everytime I'm consumed w/ emotion... or angry... or drunk.
I had to fidget with my Domain Names and do something complicated like create a CNAME... you might as well have asked me to re-build a carburetor or make duck confit. My web host sports a giant message in RED on the page where I had to take care of this CNAME nonsense that, in so many words or less, says something to this effect: "Hey retard... if you don't know what you're doing on this page, please back away slowly. A subatomic meltdown will be easier to fix than any mistakes you will make if you change stuff on this page. Scroll further and face sudden peril. Change and click at your own risk. Don't say you weren't warned."
If this works, I'll cut you a break. If it doesn't, I'll just cut you.
I had to fidget with my Domain Names and do something complicated like create a CNAME... you might as well have asked me to re-build a carburetor or make duck confit. My web host sports a giant message in RED on the page where I had to take care of this CNAME nonsense that, in so many words or less, says something to this effect: "Hey retard... if you don't know what you're doing on this page, please back away slowly. A subatomic meltdown will be easier to fix than any mistakes you will make if you change stuff on this page. Scroll further and face sudden peril. Change and click at your own risk. Don't say you weren't warned."
If this works, I'll cut you a break. If it doesn't, I'll just cut you.
Snow Madness
The snow won't stop. Its relentless. Singleminded. If I could stick to a diet and exercise program with the same nefarious plan as this snowstorm, I would be a size 4. I have such a bittersweet relationship with snow and winter. And it seems like its mostly bitter.
Winter starts out all merry. Falls hustles into the holidays with crisp frosty nights. Warms sweaters come out. There are opportunities to snuggle and blaze up the fireplace. There's cocoa and comfort food. And then... And then there's January and February. Holiday letdown. The 10 lbs I inveriably gain from all the holiday comfort food. And the weather. The bleak, nasty weather. Not to mention Valentine's Day. But that's a whole 'nother thing to rant and moan about.
I can vaguely remember legendary snowstorms when I was about 5... and again when I was about 8. Although the details are hazy. I can see my five year old self cranky and near frostbite with my flimsy red rubber boot stuck in an icy snowdrift. Igloos and tunnels dug through the drifts sound so FUN. Until you actually wear yourself out building and digging. Sledding with my neighbors in their backyard was so much fun (straight for the trees! brilliant!). Or, when you find the neighbor boy's Stretch Armstrong buried in the backyard and his weird goo limbs can now be snapped like twigs. Grody!
Oh! And my mom allowing me to cook a hotdog in the fireplace (not sure if it was for the novelty or was our electricity out?). That was really cool! Hotdogs are generally nasty but dangling one at the end of a coathanger until it is black and charred and eating it with a piece of Wonder Bread wrapped around it? Magical! Just like Little House on the Prairie!
I do clearly remember a bad snowstorm when I was about 12. It was great. We were out of school forever. And I lay on my bed for hours talking on the phone with my friends, reading Tiger Beat and Spin and daydreaming about boys. There might have been some extended cocoa drinking sessions. And if I remember correctly my mother - in her own fit of boredom - helped me cook some ridiculous delicacy like fried cheese. Or maybe it was taffy. Glorious. This is when I realized winter weather could be great if you didn't actually go outside. And school closures resulted in the horrors of Valentine's Day being missed. Its far easier to romanticize the love notes you might have gotten if the weather hadn't been so cruel... fiddle-dee-dee... than to face up to the fact you were only destined for candygrams from your girlfriends.
When I was in college, a random snowstorm cancelled classes and resulted in late night snowball fights and perhaps more than one trip to the bar across the street for some underaged drinking. It was great living downtown where as long as you had some waterproof shoes, you could get to anything and everything you really needed. And frankly? If enough beer and cute boys were involved, waterproof anything was just gravy.
It was an ice/snow combo that trapped me and Mr. Cake in my "Near West End" (read: not close enough to be Carytown but too ghetto to be the west end... and maybe or maybe not actually in Henrico Co.) townhouse the winter we were crushing on each other and led to our eventual relationship. He stopped by and couldn't leave for 3 days (but in retrospect I guess he just didn't want to, hah!). It was great. Until we made the ill advised decision to walk to the 7-11 (I was not one for keeping food on hand) and get nachos.
You'd think common sense might have kicked in and suggested that I refrain from spooning up cheese sauce and chili that had no doubt been sitting for 3 days. But you'd be terribly wrong. The ensuing bout of food poisoning was a miserable end to being snowed in with a cute guy. But it was the beginning of love - I figured I either had the choice to eventually marry this man or have him killed since he'd seen me puking in technicolor and writhing in the throes of sweaty stomach cramps on my bathroom floor. Most likely it was the post-traumatic stress that caused him to just give in and propose a year later.
Our honeymoon took place during the blizzard of '96. An obvious precursor to global warming, the east coast was blanketed with 12 or 13 feet of snow while we were in New Orleans. Louisiana just got freezing rain and record low temps. So much for my warm bayou vacation. We made the most of it and got lucky getting home when RVA allowed 3 planes - one of which was ours - to land after 6 days of blizzard closure. It was all poops and giggles until we got to our apartment. And the nightmare began.
I couldn't find my car (it was white and also buried under a glacier of snow thanks to the plows that had been assaulting it daily in our absence). When I did find it - I don't remember how we dug it out but I'm sure there lots of tears and frenzied clawing - the fear set in... parking was at a premium in our cruddy little section of the Fan on a sunny day. It was IMPOSSIBLE when there were mountains of precip taking up valuable space.
Trips to work (I HAD to go... I had just burned all my vacation time getting married and had dumb priorities like paying the electric bill to worry about) turned into 8 hours of fretting and anxiety terminating in a hour of circling the icy streets looking for a spot to squeeze my car into. People were guarding shoveled parking spots with lawn chairs, construction cones... and yes, because we lived in VA... firearms. Clearly the psychological damage of snow finally took hold in my early adult years.
I guess because I tend to be a glass-half-empty sort of person, when I think of snow it conjures up bad memories. But I can dig up some good ones too. No matter how much I hate winter, there is nothing more majestic than standing with a co-worker in a cold, silent parking lot as fat flakes flutter down around me (4 days ago, walking out of work) or peeking out the window to witness a sea of blinding white in the early dawn hours before snuggling back into bed (this morning). Or waking up one Saturday morning in late November to a suprise 12 inches (a couple of years ago - we ran outside in our pj's and coats and took a great Xmas card picture). I have to admit snow can be awe-inspiring at times.
And now we have our own driveway. Which has to be shoveled. But we also have our own fireplace. Hotdogs anyone?
Winter starts out all merry. Falls hustles into the holidays with crisp frosty nights. Warms sweaters come out. There are opportunities to snuggle and blaze up the fireplace. There's cocoa and comfort food. And then... And then there's January and February. Holiday letdown. The 10 lbs I inveriably gain from all the holiday comfort food. And the weather. The bleak, nasty weather. Not to mention Valentine's Day. But that's a whole 'nother thing to rant and moan about.
I can vaguely remember legendary snowstorms when I was about 5... and again when I was about 8. Although the details are hazy. I can see my five year old self cranky and near frostbite with my flimsy red rubber boot stuck in an icy snowdrift. Igloos and tunnels dug through the drifts sound so FUN. Until you actually wear yourself out building and digging. Sledding with my neighbors in their backyard was so much fun (straight for the trees! brilliant!). Or, when you find the neighbor boy's Stretch Armstrong buried in the backyard and his weird goo limbs can now be snapped like twigs. Grody!
Oh! And my mom allowing me to cook a hotdog in the fireplace (not sure if it was for the novelty or was our electricity out?). That was really cool! Hotdogs are generally nasty but dangling one at the end of a coathanger until it is black and charred and eating it with a piece of Wonder Bread wrapped around it? Magical! Just like Little House on the Prairie!
I do clearly remember a bad snowstorm when I was about 12. It was great. We were out of school forever. And I lay on my bed for hours talking on the phone with my friends, reading Tiger Beat and Spin and daydreaming about boys. There might have been some extended cocoa drinking sessions. And if I remember correctly my mother - in her own fit of boredom - helped me cook some ridiculous delicacy like fried cheese. Or maybe it was taffy. Glorious. This is when I realized winter weather could be great if you didn't actually go outside. And school closures resulted in the horrors of Valentine's Day being missed. Its far easier to romanticize the love notes you might have gotten if the weather hadn't been so cruel... fiddle-dee-dee... than to face up to the fact you were only destined for candygrams from your girlfriends.
When I was in college, a random snowstorm cancelled classes and resulted in late night snowball fights and perhaps more than one trip to the bar across the street for some underaged drinking. It was great living downtown where as long as you had some waterproof shoes, you could get to anything and everything you really needed. And frankly? If enough beer and cute boys were involved, waterproof anything was just gravy.
It was an ice/snow combo that trapped me and Mr. Cake in my "Near West End" (read: not close enough to be Carytown but too ghetto to be the west end... and maybe or maybe not actually in Henrico Co.) townhouse the winter we were crushing on each other and led to our eventual relationship. He stopped by and couldn't leave for 3 days (but in retrospect I guess he just didn't want to, hah!). It was great. Until we made the ill advised decision to walk to the 7-11 (I was not one for keeping food on hand) and get nachos.
You'd think common sense might have kicked in and suggested that I refrain from spooning up cheese sauce and chili that had no doubt been sitting for 3 days. But you'd be terribly wrong. The ensuing bout of food poisoning was a miserable end to being snowed in with a cute guy. But it was the beginning of love - I figured I either had the choice to eventually marry this man or have him killed since he'd seen me puking in technicolor and writhing in the throes of sweaty stomach cramps on my bathroom floor. Most likely it was the post-traumatic stress that caused him to just give in and propose a year later.
Our honeymoon took place during the blizzard of '96. An obvious precursor to global warming, the east coast was blanketed with 12 or 13 feet of snow while we were in New Orleans. Louisiana just got freezing rain and record low temps. So much for my warm bayou vacation. We made the most of it and got lucky getting home when RVA allowed 3 planes - one of which was ours - to land after 6 days of blizzard closure. It was all poops and giggles until we got to our apartment. And the nightmare began.
I couldn't find my car (it was white and also buried under a glacier of snow thanks to the plows that had been assaulting it daily in our absence). When I did find it - I don't remember how we dug it out but I'm sure there lots of tears and frenzied clawing - the fear set in... parking was at a premium in our cruddy little section of the Fan on a sunny day. It was IMPOSSIBLE when there were mountains of precip taking up valuable space.
Trips to work (I HAD to go... I had just burned all my vacation time getting married and had dumb priorities like paying the electric bill to worry about) turned into 8 hours of fretting and anxiety terminating in a hour of circling the icy streets looking for a spot to squeeze my car into. People were guarding shoveled parking spots with lawn chairs, construction cones... and yes, because we lived in VA... firearms. Clearly the psychological damage of snow finally took hold in my early adult years.
I guess because I tend to be a glass-half-empty sort of person, when I think of snow it conjures up bad memories. But I can dig up some good ones too. No matter how much I hate winter, there is nothing more majestic than standing with a co-worker in a cold, silent parking lot as fat flakes flutter down around me (4 days ago, walking out of work) or peeking out the window to witness a sea of blinding white in the early dawn hours before snuggling back into bed (this morning). Or waking up one Saturday morning in late November to a suprise 12 inches (a couple of years ago - we ran outside in our pj's and coats and took a great Xmas card picture). I have to admit snow can be awe-inspiring at times.
And now we have our own driveway. Which has to be shoveled. But we also have our own fireplace. Hotdogs anyone?
Friday, January 29, 2010
Tender Intensity... I will muster it
I'm usually such a nasty skeptic... wanting to believe in magic but generally just complaining and phutzing and harboring negativity. However, when Rob Brezsny issues brilliance such as this... my god, I want to be a believer. In the worst kind of way....
Libra Horoscope for week of January 28, 2010
My theory is that right now the whole world is in ♥ love ♥ with you. In some places, this simmering adoration is bordering on infatuation. Creatures great and small are more apt than usual to recognize what's beautiful and original about you. As a result, wonders and marvels are likely to coalesce in your vicinity. Is there anything you can do to ensure that events unfold in ways that will yield maximum benefits for everyone concerned? Yes: Be yourself with as much tender intensity as you can muster.
Libra Horoscope for week of January 28, 2010
My theory is that right now the whole world is in ♥ love ♥ with you. In some places, this simmering adoration is bordering on infatuation. Creatures great and small are more apt than usual to recognize what's beautiful and original about you. As a result, wonders and marvels are likely to coalesce in your vicinity. Is there anything you can do to ensure that events unfold in ways that will yield maximum benefits for everyone concerned? Yes: Be yourself with as much tender intensity as you can muster.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Crisis averted.
Sometimes the universe hands you a golden nugget of wonderfulness. My job entails much writing and research about boring topics such as state and federal credit legislation, mortgage industry licensing and our current economic conditions. Needless to say none of this has ever been particularly fulfilling.
But today I randomly stumbled across the work of Jonathan Jarvis. He's a really great visual designer and he has created a brilliant presentation about the credit crisis.
Learn in 11 minutes what I have spent 2 years dicking around with...
But today I randomly stumbled across the work of Jonathan Jarvis. He's a really great visual designer and he has created a brilliant presentation about the credit crisis.
Learn in 11 minutes what I have spent 2 years dicking around with...
The Crisis of Credit Visualized from Jonathan Jarvis on Vimeo.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Read or Die
I remember when I was a teenager we used to scrawl "Sk8 or Die" all over the place. um, yeah, I hung out with a bunch of skate punks. duh. I couldn't care less about skaters these days (although Tony Hawk is aging nicely, no?) but I do still care about making counter culture statements so I have co-opted the sentiment for my own geeky needs.
I went through a period of not reading which is very, very unlike me. When I have to fill out those "About Me" things... for instance on certain social networking websites... I always say "I love books like I love air" in the "favorite books" section. Picking a favorite book feels almost sacriligious. But I digress. I have jumped back on the reading horse with a vengenance and I feel much more well rounded. More complete. Less like I want to commit hari kari when the going gets tough. Hence the catchphrase.
Since the holidays I have read a pile and I thought I would share a thought or two:
Wishin' and Hopin': A Christmas Story by Wally Lamb - This one was really cute and lighthearted. Wally Lamb is an incredible writer. Its about a school year in the life of a kid in the 1960's who is related to Annette Funicello
Company by Max Barry - This was a little less great than all the hype about it but overall it was enjoyable. I won't give away the twist but basically its about a recent biz school grad who gets a job at a company and subsequently discovers that no one knows that the company does or sells.
Jennifer Government by Max Barry - Jennifer Gov't was based on an interesting idea and it was pretty well written but I guess a lot of it was predictable, kind of like Company. I think Max Barry has some original concepts but somehow the execution gets boring.
Generation A by Douglas Coupland - I love Douglas Coupland. This wasn't as fabulous as Microserfs but it was pretty darn good. I read some reviews that said the "themes" were too blatant and kind of shoved down the reader's throat but I really didn't mind. The characters were well developed and I thought the blatantness of the themes actually lent a sense of realism. Its about the not-too-distant future where bees have become extinct and 5 people who randomly get stung.
The Average American Male by Chad Kultgen - AAM is some of the most offensive material I have read since Tucker Max. But I couldn't put it down. I would be horrified... but probably less than suprised... is this is really the kind of stuff that goes on in the minds of men. I'm not sure how/why this kind of misogyny and immaturity is so enticing. I guess its like a trainwreck - you don't want to admit it, but you can't look away.
Apathy and Other Small Victories by Paul Neilan - Not earth shattering but a pretty good read. Pretty chuckle worthy throughout. Its about the hijinks of a slacker who you sort of want to hate but also kind of feel sorry for and a sort of murder mystery he gets himself involved in.
Bitter is the New Black by Jen Lancaster - I just started this one and I have to admit I resisted it for a long time. I thought it was chick lit - in the vein of Jennifer Weiner (who is a great writer but I'm just tired of chick lit). But it turns out she is more like a super snarky Laurie Notaro or a much funnier Chelsea Handler.
I went through a period of not reading which is very, very unlike me. When I have to fill out those "About Me" things... for instance on certain social networking websites... I always say "I love books like I love air" in the "favorite books" section. Picking a favorite book feels almost sacriligious. But I digress. I have jumped back on the reading horse with a vengenance and I feel much more well rounded. More complete. Less like I want to commit hari kari when the going gets tough. Hence the catchphrase.
Since the holidays I have read a pile and I thought I would share a thought or two:
Wishin' and Hopin': A Christmas Story by Wally Lamb - This one was really cute and lighthearted. Wally Lamb is an incredible writer. Its about a school year in the life of a kid in the 1960's who is related to Annette Funicello
Company by Max Barry - This was a little less great than all the hype about it but overall it was enjoyable. I won't give away the twist but basically its about a recent biz school grad who gets a job at a company and subsequently discovers that no one knows that the company does or sells.
Jennifer Government by Max Barry - Jennifer Gov't was based on an interesting idea and it was pretty well written but I guess a lot of it was predictable, kind of like Company. I think Max Barry has some original concepts but somehow the execution gets boring.
Generation A by Douglas Coupland - I love Douglas Coupland. This wasn't as fabulous as Microserfs but it was pretty darn good. I read some reviews that said the "themes" were too blatant and kind of shoved down the reader's throat but I really didn't mind. The characters were well developed and I thought the blatantness of the themes actually lent a sense of realism. Its about the not-too-distant future where bees have become extinct and 5 people who randomly get stung.
The Average American Male by Chad Kultgen - AAM is some of the most offensive material I have read since Tucker Max. But I couldn't put it down. I would be horrified... but probably less than suprised... is this is really the kind of stuff that goes on in the minds of men. I'm not sure how/why this kind of misogyny and immaturity is so enticing. I guess its like a trainwreck - you don't want to admit it, but you can't look away.
Apathy and Other Small Victories by Paul Neilan - Not earth shattering but a pretty good read. Pretty chuckle worthy throughout. Its about the hijinks of a slacker who you sort of want to hate but also kind of feel sorry for and a sort of murder mystery he gets himself involved in.
Bitter is the New Black by Jen Lancaster - I just started this one and I have to admit I resisted it for a long time. I thought it was chick lit - in the vein of Jennifer Weiner (who is a great writer but I'm just tired of chick lit). But it turns out she is more like a super snarky Laurie Notaro or a much funnier Chelsea Handler.
Subscribe to Posts [Atom]
