Friday, December 30, 2011
Thing I Love #18
I don't know this couple, but look how cute. It's sad to me that I found this at the Goodwill.
Thing I Love #15
I have two of these. This pattern of cheese plate follows me through Goodwills, which is nice because it's my favorite one -- and I own a lot of cheese-related dishware.
Thing I Love #11
David Sedaris reading any of his work...but in honor of the Christmas season, "Santaland Diaries."
Thing I Love #10
This will eventually have candy in it. Perhaps lemon drops. Yellow is my favorite color dishware.
Thing I Love #9
Kumail Nanjiani talking about Benjamin Button.
Here's him talking about crazy people on the train in NYC and riding the Cyclone on Coney Island. Go ahead and watch his bit about a "new drug" called "cheese," too. And his thoughts about Heavy Rain, a video game I've seen played -- it is as depressing as it sounds -- and, heck, everything he says that's been recorded on youtube. (His show stuff is better than his David Letterman appearance, where he's obvious nervous and does the same material, but not as well.)
Here's him talking about crazy people on the train in NYC and riding the Cyclone on Coney Island. Go ahead and watch his bit about a "new drug" called "cheese," too. And his thoughts about Heavy Rain, a video game I've seen played -- it is as depressing as it sounds -- and, heck, everything he says that's been recorded on youtube. (His show stuff is better than his David Letterman appearance, where he's obvious nervous and does the same material, but not as well.)
Happy New Year!
Happy impending new year, everyone. I, for one, will be glad to see the new year come.
In the meantime, feast your eyeballs on some of the things I've been loving lately.
In the meantime, feast your eyeballs on some of the things I've been loving lately.
PSA: Etsied
So obviously I've been up to other stuff that isn't this blog. There are SO MANY THINGS THAT HAVE HAPPENED IN THE LAST TWO MONTHS, but most of them aren't things I'm writing about here.
They include re-dating P.C., my car dying and my trying to find a new car, my finding a new car and subsequent signing of many documents indenturing me to a credit union (they seem nice, though, so they probably won't have me building pyramids or anything), going on many, many trips to see various friends, and applying to new jobs that might not kill cars so quickly.
Some of those things are things I've been writing plenty about on Facebook -- like my Etsy store opening, which I suppose is the point of this post, and which indirectly leads to my next several photo posts, because I've learned to take better digital photos as a result of having to make product photos.
Here's my shop.
They include re-dating P.C., my car dying and my trying to find a new car, my finding a new car and subsequent signing of many documents indenturing me to a credit union (they seem nice, though, so they probably won't have me building pyramids or anything), going on many, many trips to see various friends, and applying to new jobs that might not kill cars so quickly.
Some of those things are things I've been writing plenty about on Facebook -- like my Etsy store opening, which I suppose is the point of this post, and which indirectly leads to my next several photo posts, because I've learned to take better digital photos as a result of having to make product photos.
Here's my shop.
Monday, November 28, 2011
New word: Secondy-first
adj. The second time for a "first" of something, when it happens; i.e., going on a "first date" for a second time with the same person after an interval of separation, as in "P.C. and I went on our secondy-first date tonight." Follows numerically (ordinal) with secondy-second, secondy-third, secondy-fourth, etc.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Web 12.0
New spam-mail from Skype:
"Adriana Sumner friended you on MySpace."
If the A.I. revolution really begins with Skype gossiping to me about what's going on in my nonexistent MySpace page using a verb I'm pretty sure is only relevant to Facebook, I think we're gonna be okay.
We'll also be guilty of having created one of the dumbest intelligences since Real Housewives came on the air, but at least it's not going to go all "Hal from 2001" on us. It will need us as fodder for gossip the way the Morlocks needed the Eloi for food, or the Matrix overlord dudes needed humans for...whatever that was.
Imagine if the cylons hadn't been able to resist gossiping aboard Battlestar Galactica. Shortest. Series. Ever. ("Who's collaborating with you guys? Gaius Baltar? What a jerk! If you bring him here to me right now I'll let you watch me send him out the airlock, and you can tell all your friends.")
"Adriana Sumner friended you on MySpace."
If the A.I. revolution really begins with Skype gossiping to me about what's going on in my nonexistent MySpace page using a verb I'm pretty sure is only relevant to Facebook, I think we're gonna be okay.
We'll also be guilty of having created one of the dumbest intelligences since Real Housewives came on the air, but at least it's not going to go all "Hal from 2001" on us. It will need us as fodder for gossip the way the Morlocks needed the Eloi for food, or the Matrix overlord dudes needed humans for...whatever that was.
Imagine if the cylons hadn't been able to resist gossiping aboard Battlestar Galactica. Shortest. Series. Ever. ("Who's collaborating with you guys? Gaius Baltar? What a jerk! If you bring him here to me right now I'll let you watch me send him out the airlock, and you can tell all your friends.")
Local Trivia: So THAT'S how that happens.
About two weeks ago, I was driving up a local road when a squirrel ventured out, crossing by fits and starts the way squirrels in that neighborhood always do. (I've also seen the "mad dash" method in other areas, but never on this high-squirrel-mortality street.)
As I got closer, I noticed he had one of those tiny, perfectly formed gourd pumpkins in his mouth, probably from someone's porch -- which, when I honked the horn, he promptly dropped exactly in the middle of the road before running off. I guess it was just too much of a liability to risk trying to carry it the rest of the way, what with the car barreling down on him at 12 mph. Probably a good call.
If I were this tiny pumpkin's owner, I would have been mystified to find my little gourd set perfectly on the yellow line somewhere down the street.
But now if it ever happens to one of us, dear readers, we'll know how.
As I got closer, I noticed he had one of those tiny, perfectly formed gourd pumpkins in his mouth, probably from someone's porch -- which, when I honked the horn, he promptly dropped exactly in the middle of the road before running off. I guess it was just too much of a liability to risk trying to carry it the rest of the way, what with the car barreling down on him at 12 mph. Probably a good call.
If I were this tiny pumpkin's owner, I would have been mystified to find my little gourd set perfectly on the yellow line somewhere down the street.
But now if it ever happens to one of us, dear readers, we'll know how.
Local Trivia: Sign out front for pest control company comma ones I would hire
The only
thing you
have to
fear is
fear itself
And spiders
thing you
have to
fear is
fear itself
And spiders
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Non-local Trivia: Pushing Daisies' family tree
Here are some of the delightful guest stars that have appeared in the also-delightful show, Pushing Daisies, who have also appeared in other delightful shows:
Mo Collins, as Sister LaRue in "Bad Habits" also appears as Joan Callamezzo in Parks and Recreation. She's also been on Modern Family and Arrested Development.
Andrea Parker, as Emerson's young mom in "Frescorts," was also Miss Parker on The Pretender. She was also on ER for several episodes in the early years and My Name Is Earl.
Hayley McFarland, as Nicki in "Circus Circus," is also Emily Lightman on the prematurely cancelled Lie To Me and appeared in an episode of Criminal Minds as well as ER.
Mo Collins, as Sister LaRue in "Bad Habits" also appears as Joan Callamezzo in Parks and Recreation. She's also been on Modern Family and Arrested Development.
Andrea Parker, as Emerson's young mom in "Frescorts," was also Miss Parker on The Pretender. She was also on ER for several episodes in the early years and My Name Is Earl.
Hayley McFarland, as Nicki in "Circus Circus," is also Emily Lightman on the prematurely cancelled Lie To Me and appeared in an episode of Criminal Minds as well as ER.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
PSA: Whitney is terrible and I agree with this.
Here's an article about how the new NBC sitcom Whitney is terrible, and doesn't belong in the otherwise stellar NBC Thursday-night comedy lineup. (Though it does make my Thursday night commute to work, always started at 9:30 p.m., much more enjoyable, since I know that I'm not missing anything I'd ever want to see on television.)
I was going to write my own post about Whitney and how it's terrible, and I could still be tempted to wax complainant in the future, but this is well-written and I already complain about Whitney a whole lot in real life. So enjoy.
I was going to write my own post about Whitney and how it's terrible, and I could still be tempted to wax complainant in the future, but this is well-written and I already complain about Whitney a whole lot in real life. So enjoy.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
PSA: No, they don't, headline.
"Women Consider Plastic Surgery as Early as Age 10"
Ten-year-olds are not women. They're girls.
Ten-year-olds are not women. They're girls.
Local Trivia: Random books I got from the library and intend to read fully
Spaceman Blues: A Love Song by Brian Francis Slattery -- From the science fiction section, and written by a guy living (or who was living at time of publication) in New Haven, CT, this book seems short (219 pgs) and (unrelatedly) Pynchonesque, as it was described on the back cover. For me, this means it reads like a lot of really tiny vignettes strung together as the protagonist looks all over the place for a guy who mysteriously disappeared.
But there's promise of the apocalypse to come, so I'm sticking with it despite that it skiffs along over an ocean of material rather than diving in like my fave-book-of-all-time, Middlemarch. And since it's more than 500 pgs shorter than Middlemarch, I think it will be worth my time.
Pick it up if: you think the apocalypse is interesting (or on its way), but want to read about it in a new voice; you like Thomas Pynchon's Crying of Lot 49; you like the work of sci fi don Damon Knight, particularly his wry sense of humor and timing and the way his writing appears to goad Asimov's somehow; you can find it in your local library or think it sounds worth $5.18 (or $10 for the e-reader version); you like criminal procedurals like Law & Order, but wish they would sometimes be more creative.
Everything Matters! by Ron Currie, Jr. -- From the fiction section, written by a guy who'd won critical acclaim for his short story collection God Is Dead. The hyperbolic title is what made me pick this one up. Really? Everything? But the quick writing drew me in more deeply and immediately than Spaceman Blues, and intriguingly, it starts out in second person voice, which only one other novel I've read has done (A Prayer for the Dying by Stewart O'Nan). It shifts out of second person after the first chapter (much like Complicity by Iain Banks), but by then you're hooked.
Again about the apocalypse -- remember, I chose these at random and didn't choose any others, so perhaps it's a sign -- this book tells the story of a kid born knowing when the world would come to an end, who apparently then struggles to know what's worth doing, what's potentially history-changing, and what's significant, and what isn't any of those. I'm only a few chapters in, so I can't guarantee this, but my money is on the idea that what matters is "everything."
Pick it up if: you're intrigued by possible uses of second-person; you're intrigued by oracles, and their use in literature; you think the apocalypse is interesting (or on its way), but want to read about it in a new voice; you can find it at your library or think it might be worth $10.38 (hardcover); you're invested in stories of families, like The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen, but are worried there aren't any other ways to tell a traditional story without being either Jonathan Franzen or extremely boring.
Absurdistan: A Novel by Gary Shteyngart -- On CD. I haven't listened to any of it yet, but who doesn't love a book on tape? They keep going through the boring parts, and you can listen to them in the car, if you've got a tape or CD player and you're not obsessed with Marc Maron's WTF podcast like one of us definitely is. (It's me. You should check him out.)
I picked up this book because it was on a featured display, and because I own (but like so many books, have not yet read) Shteyngart's The Russian Debutante's Handbook, which won awards, and interesting ones like the National Jewish Book Award for Fiction. It's 12 hrs long, but if the reader's any good (like Jim Dale for the Harry Potter books on CD, or Stephen Fry for The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy) that time will fly by. We'll see.
Pick it up if: you want to beat me in reading a book I seem to be recommending, because who knows when I'll get to it, and then possibly lord it over me; you're interested in either Leningrad, where Gary Shteyngart was born, or the comedy show Laugh In, where the reader Arte Johnson won his Emmy; if you're taking a long car ride; if you can find it at your local library or think it might be worth $24.49 through Audible (or $10-15 in book form).
*Also note that these reviews of books I either haven't read or have read bits of, contain recommendations of actual books I have read and enjoyed. Do what you will with that information. Let me know how it goes.
But there's promise of the apocalypse to come, so I'm sticking with it despite that it skiffs along over an ocean of material rather than diving in like my fave-book-of-all-time, Middlemarch. And since it's more than 500 pgs shorter than Middlemarch, I think it will be worth my time.
Pick it up if: you think the apocalypse is interesting (or on its way), but want to read about it in a new voice; you like Thomas Pynchon's Crying of Lot 49; you like the work of sci fi don Damon Knight, particularly his wry sense of humor and timing and the way his writing appears to goad Asimov's somehow; you can find it in your local library or think it sounds worth $5.18 (or $10 for the e-reader version); you like criminal procedurals like Law & Order, but wish they would sometimes be more creative.
Everything Matters! by Ron Currie, Jr. -- From the fiction section, written by a guy who'd won critical acclaim for his short story collection God Is Dead. The hyperbolic title is what made me pick this one up. Really? Everything? But the quick writing drew me in more deeply and immediately than Spaceman Blues, and intriguingly, it starts out in second person voice, which only one other novel I've read has done (A Prayer for the Dying by Stewart O'Nan). It shifts out of second person after the first chapter (much like Complicity by Iain Banks), but by then you're hooked.
Again about the apocalypse -- remember, I chose these at random and didn't choose any others, so perhaps it's a sign -- this book tells the story of a kid born knowing when the world would come to an end, who apparently then struggles to know what's worth doing, what's potentially history-changing, and what's significant, and what isn't any of those. I'm only a few chapters in, so I can't guarantee this, but my money is on the idea that what matters is "everything."
Pick it up if: you're intrigued by possible uses of second-person; you're intrigued by oracles, and their use in literature; you think the apocalypse is interesting (or on its way), but want to read about it in a new voice; you can find it at your library or think it might be worth $10.38 (hardcover); you're invested in stories of families, like The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen, but are worried there aren't any other ways to tell a traditional story without being either Jonathan Franzen or extremely boring.
Absurdistan: A Novel by Gary Shteyngart -- On CD. I haven't listened to any of it yet, but who doesn't love a book on tape? They keep going through the boring parts, and you can listen to them in the car, if you've got a tape or CD player and you're not obsessed with Marc Maron's WTF podcast like one of us definitely is. (It's me. You should check him out.)
I picked up this book because it was on a featured display, and because I own (but like so many books, have not yet read) Shteyngart's The Russian Debutante's Handbook, which won awards, and interesting ones like the National Jewish Book Award for Fiction. It's 12 hrs long, but if the reader's any good (like Jim Dale for the Harry Potter books on CD, or Stephen Fry for The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy) that time will fly by. We'll see.
Pick it up if: you want to beat me in reading a book I seem to be recommending, because who knows when I'll get to it, and then possibly lord it over me; you're interested in either Leningrad, where Gary Shteyngart was born, or the comedy show Laugh In, where the reader Arte Johnson won his Emmy; if you're taking a long car ride; if you can find it at your local library or think it might be worth $24.49 through Audible (or $10-15 in book form).
*Also note that these reviews of books I either haven't read or have read bits of, contain recommendations of actual books I have read and enjoyed. Do what you will with that information. Let me know how it goes.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Local "Trivia": Things that happened since Aug 5, and how they seemed
I learned that my brother had found my blog and told my mom about it, though he never contacted me or commented here -- ominous.
I closed this blog to the public and decided to make a "constellation of blogs" instead/in addition, which are still a work in progress, so that the MFHTDWF and Quantifiable Living, for instance, can have their own foci in their own internet searchable "spaces" -- like evidence of paranoia, but hopeful.
I learned two salient facts that made my previously formed plan to drive my mother and all her stuff and birds down to Florida (since she's moving there for Sept 1) unworkable, which were 1. that my brother's health restrictions meant he could only drive during the day and needed to sleep in a motel bed each night and 2. my mother expected her ten birds to be partially uncovered in the rental car I was going to drive down following the truck -- somewhat frustrating.
I imparted the following facts to my mother and brother: 1. I'd anticipated driving over the night, not day, and so P.C. was working during the day they'd intended to leave, and 2. since I'm allergic to birds, I would not be driving a car with partially uncovered cages -- like a logic-puzzle brain teaser.
While at work in the midst of a 55-hour work week, I got yelled at via telephone by my brother, who hung up on me because I was "changing the plan at the last minute" -- overkill.
I set up a "family meeting" to discuss possible solutions with my mom -- dreadful.
I listened to mom and my brother discuss what various airlines serve for food nowadays on flights, for ten minutes, as I sat waiting to begin the discussion of the plan -- excruciatingly boring.
I suggested the "new" plan, which took all restrictions into consideration (that mom and brother drive the bird car down at their own pace during the day; that P.C. and I leave with the truck late at night and arrive at the same time or before they would in Florida) -- the only reasonable option.
I got yelled at -- abusive.
I got yelled at a lot more -- abusive.
I refused to discuss in detail what allergy medications I would take that could theoretically mitigate my bird allergy, which I'd already stated I'd be doing in any case, repeatedly -- futile.
I refused to point out that no one else's restrictions were a point of argument, because health concerns were not up for debate -- futile.
I got yelled at -- abusive.
I was impugned for "interrupting everyone all the time," told to "shut up," told I was "holding the family hostage," told I needed to "think of the family" and told I had "control issues" (which explained why I was needlessly "changing the plan" three weeks before the move and the first time details had ever been discussed, aka "at the last minute") -- frustrating and abusive.
I got a text of support from P.C. -- comforting.
I got a text from my brother telling me that I "knew" they had already "caved into your demands!" and that I was "interrupting everyone all the time!" and that I was "so rude and disrespectful!" and that I needed to "go back to your Mom/FAMILY and work it out!" -- funny, because the name didn't appear initially and in the context of P.C.'s supportive text, it seemed an obvious satire sent by one of my friends.
I realized my family, when it's working most efficiently and as it's been designed to, is a crap factory, producing nothing but a pile of useless crap to hurl around, and that my refusal to question anyone's health concerns, refusal to name-call (hurl crap), and flexibility in offering another, better plan to supplant the first unworkable one, was a betrayal of Crap Factory ethos -- as a metaphor, illuminating to me, invisible though enraging to them.
My mom decided to re-price a POD, which came out to about the same cost as the truck -- so relieving.
The new plan was formed, for brother and mother to drive the bird car down, and P.C. and I to fly down, help unpack the POD, and drive the car back up to avoid the one-way fee -- also relieving.
My mom asked if I could rent the rental car on my credit card and she'd pay me back, and I agreed -- neutral.
She said to rent it from Tuesday - Tuesday -- agreeable, but flawed, as my original plan had included us leaving late on Tuesday and the new plan necessitated renting the car early Tuesday morning.
I said we'd need to rent it until the following Wednesday at 8 a.m., because driving back up from Florida in two days on Labor Day weekend left no guarantee we'd get it back by Tuesday at 8 a.m., and hourly late fees are heftier than the extra day's fee -- reasonable to me, extortion to her.
My mom "put her foot down" about the car rental, stating if it got back a day late, I would need to pay the extra day -- reasonable and disciplinary to her, ridiculous to me, the one who was supposedly reserving the car I wouldn't be paid back for.
I realized that I'd become invisible as a separate person in the process, and instead had become a body to be used however the Crap Factory dictated -- stressful.
I realized that it had become assumed, somehow, that despite my efforts to help as a favor, and despite all evidence to the contrary, I would be treated as an enemy in this endeavor, and that helping would be treated like it was my job -- illuminating
I quit the fake "job," which included unreasonable demands and was costing me a week's pay even without a rental car charge -- the only reasonable response.
P.C. decided he'd had enough and texted my mom that he was no longer available to help -- relieving in comparison to previous stress levels, but stressful in its own way.
P.C. and I had a sushi dinner -- good, but lacking in comparison to our usual sushi place.
I took the weekend "off" of family, finishing my work week with a 25-hour residential shift on Saturday/Sunday -- relieving, but still tense.
I had to watch the Glee 3D concert movie during that shift -- absurd.
I made sure to recharge my "normal" shields so as to be able to interact with Crap Factory workers "normally" after the previous week, which is the only way to try to trigger normal instead of pathological reactions -- difficult, but familiar.
I showed up at my mom's apartment to help begin loading the POD on Monday morning -- "normal" (shield)
The new plan was for brother and mother to rent the bird car one way, incur the one-way fees, and attempt to move things in from the POD on their own -- dumb, but now necessary.
It turned out she was mad at P.C. for texting because "you should call in those situations" -- baffling, but not worth the effort to understand or argue about.
I was told I "shouldn't have gone whining" to P.C. -- "normal" (Factory talk)
I said I hadn't -- "normal" (shield)
I helped load the POD -- slow and allergy-inducing.
I witnessed my mom standing in front of me in the kitchen say, looking away, "I don't have any help" -- sad.
I replied "I'm right here" -- "normal."
She did not respond -- sad.
At the end of the week, likely still finding me invisible as a volunteer helper, my mom had my brother's wife down to help pack the POD -- inexplicable, since I'd always said I would help but never seemed to count as "another person"
I became obsolete, as only one other person was necessary to help with what was left -- befuddling but in a shoulder-shrug-oh-well-I-guess-I'll-leave kind of way.
My sister-in-law thanked me six or seven times "for coming to help" on the last day with the POD -- weird? As if she were hosting? As if she belonged there and I was a guest? As if it hadn't been the plan for me to help all along? Befuddling, also.
My mom said "I love you" to my sister-in-law as she left to drive the several hours home, and I realized I couldn't remember when we'd last said that to each other -- understandable.
The POD got picked up -- relieving.
I used a groupon to get a massage -- relaxing.
I began to be able to look forward to my 30th birthday with only P.C. and roller coasters -- finally.
I closed this blog to the public and decided to make a "constellation of blogs" instead/in addition, which are still a work in progress, so that the MFHTDWF and Quantifiable Living, for instance, can have their own foci in their own internet searchable "spaces" -- like evidence of paranoia, but hopeful.
I learned two salient facts that made my previously formed plan to drive my mother and all her stuff and birds down to Florida (since she's moving there for Sept 1) unworkable, which were 1. that my brother's health restrictions meant he could only drive during the day and needed to sleep in a motel bed each night and 2. my mother expected her ten birds to be partially uncovered in the rental car I was going to drive down following the truck -- somewhat frustrating.
I imparted the following facts to my mother and brother: 1. I'd anticipated driving over the night, not day, and so P.C. was working during the day they'd intended to leave, and 2. since I'm allergic to birds, I would not be driving a car with partially uncovered cages -- like a logic-puzzle brain teaser.
While at work in the midst of a 55-hour work week, I got yelled at via telephone by my brother, who hung up on me because I was "changing the plan at the last minute" -- overkill.
I set up a "family meeting" to discuss possible solutions with my mom -- dreadful.
I listened to mom and my brother discuss what various airlines serve for food nowadays on flights, for ten minutes, as I sat waiting to begin the discussion of the plan -- excruciatingly boring.
I suggested the "new" plan, which took all restrictions into consideration (that mom and brother drive the bird car down at their own pace during the day; that P.C. and I leave with the truck late at night and arrive at the same time or before they would in Florida) -- the only reasonable option.
I got yelled at -- abusive.
I got yelled at a lot more -- abusive.
I refused to discuss in detail what allergy medications I would take that could theoretically mitigate my bird allergy, which I'd already stated I'd be doing in any case, repeatedly -- futile.
I refused to point out that no one else's restrictions were a point of argument, because health concerns were not up for debate -- futile.
I got yelled at -- abusive.
I was impugned for "interrupting everyone all the time," told to "shut up," told I was "holding the family hostage," told I needed to "think of the family" and told I had "control issues" (which explained why I was needlessly "changing the plan" three weeks before the move and the first time details had ever been discussed, aka "at the last minute") -- frustrating and abusive.
I got a text of support from P.C. -- comforting.
I got a text from my brother telling me that I "knew" they had already "caved into your demands!" and that I was "interrupting everyone all the time!" and that I was "so rude and disrespectful!" and that I needed to "go back to your Mom/FAMILY and work it out!" -- funny, because the name didn't appear initially and in the context of P.C.'s supportive text, it seemed an obvious satire sent by one of my friends.
I realized my family, when it's working most efficiently and as it's been designed to, is a crap factory, producing nothing but a pile of useless crap to hurl around, and that my refusal to question anyone's health concerns, refusal to name-call (hurl crap), and flexibility in offering another, better plan to supplant the first unworkable one, was a betrayal of Crap Factory ethos -- as a metaphor, illuminating to me, invisible though enraging to them.
My mom decided to re-price a POD, which came out to about the same cost as the truck -- so relieving.
The new plan was formed, for brother and mother to drive the bird car down, and P.C. and I to fly down, help unpack the POD, and drive the car back up to avoid the one-way fee -- also relieving.
My mom asked if I could rent the rental car on my credit card and she'd pay me back, and I agreed -- neutral.
She said to rent it from Tuesday - Tuesday -- agreeable, but flawed, as my original plan had included us leaving late on Tuesday and the new plan necessitated renting the car early Tuesday morning.
I said we'd need to rent it until the following Wednesday at 8 a.m., because driving back up from Florida in two days on Labor Day weekend left no guarantee we'd get it back by Tuesday at 8 a.m., and hourly late fees are heftier than the extra day's fee -- reasonable to me, extortion to her.
My mom "put her foot down" about the car rental, stating if it got back a day late, I would need to pay the extra day -- reasonable and disciplinary to her, ridiculous to me, the one who was supposedly reserving the car I wouldn't be paid back for.
I realized that I'd become invisible as a separate person in the process, and instead had become a body to be used however the Crap Factory dictated -- stressful.
I realized that it had become assumed, somehow, that despite my efforts to help as a favor, and despite all evidence to the contrary, I would be treated as an enemy in this endeavor, and that helping would be treated like it was my job -- illuminating
I quit the fake "job," which included unreasonable demands and was costing me a week's pay even without a rental car charge -- the only reasonable response.
P.C. decided he'd had enough and texted my mom that he was no longer available to help -- relieving in comparison to previous stress levels, but stressful in its own way.
P.C. and I had a sushi dinner -- good, but lacking in comparison to our usual sushi place.
I took the weekend "off" of family, finishing my work week with a 25-hour residential shift on Saturday/Sunday -- relieving, but still tense.
I had to watch the Glee 3D concert movie during that shift -- absurd.
I made sure to recharge my "normal" shields so as to be able to interact with Crap Factory workers "normally" after the previous week, which is the only way to try to trigger normal instead of pathological reactions -- difficult, but familiar.
I showed up at my mom's apartment to help begin loading the POD on Monday morning -- "normal" (shield)
The new plan was for brother and mother to rent the bird car one way, incur the one-way fees, and attempt to move things in from the POD on their own -- dumb, but now necessary.
It turned out she was mad at P.C. for texting because "you should call in those situations" -- baffling, but not worth the effort to understand or argue about.
I was told I "shouldn't have gone whining" to P.C. -- "normal" (Factory talk)
I said I hadn't -- "normal" (shield)
I helped load the POD -- slow and allergy-inducing.
I witnessed my mom standing in front of me in the kitchen say, looking away, "I don't have any help" -- sad.
I replied "I'm right here" -- "normal."
She did not respond -- sad.
At the end of the week, likely still finding me invisible as a volunteer helper, my mom had my brother's wife down to help pack the POD -- inexplicable, since I'd always said I would help but never seemed to count as "another person"
I became obsolete, as only one other person was necessary to help with what was left -- befuddling but in a shoulder-shrug-oh-well-I-guess-I'll-leave kind of way.
My sister-in-law thanked me six or seven times "for coming to help" on the last day with the POD -- weird? As if she were hosting? As if she belonged there and I was a guest? As if it hadn't been the plan for me to help all along? Befuddling, also.
My mom said "I love you" to my sister-in-law as she left to drive the several hours home, and I realized I couldn't remember when we'd last said that to each other -- understandable.
The POD got picked up -- relieving.
I used a groupon to get a massage -- relaxing.
I began to be able to look forward to my 30th birthday with only P.C. and roller coasters -- finally.
Friday, August 5, 2011
PSA: Looks at books
Now here's a site that made me glad I'd reshelved my books to look at least a tiny bit cooler -- some horizontal, some vertical, you see -- but still.
My bookshelves are not poems.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
PSA: Goodwillazilla
I created that other website like I said I would. You may also like it on Facebook.
Don't expect too much right off the bat -- tomorrow, for instance -- because I haven't even had a chance to buy another T-shirt yet, let alone paper my immediate area with "Godzilla vs." fliers, let alone paper YOUR immediate area with said fliers or tees. Expect a snowball, or for the religious among you, a mustard-seed start.
But I'm kind of hoping this snowball will go somewhere, considering it's my most coherent "art" project concept to date.
It totally figures it would also be my most absurd one.
Don't expect too much right off the bat -- tomorrow, for instance -- because I haven't even had a chance to buy another T-shirt yet, let alone paper my immediate area with "Godzilla vs." fliers, let alone paper YOUR immediate area with said fliers or tees. Expect a snowball, or for the religious among you, a mustard-seed start.
But I'm kind of hoping this snowball will go somewhere, considering it's my most coherent "art" project concept to date.
It totally figures it would also be my most absurd one.
Local Trivia: Godzilla soon to be unleashed on unsuspecting public.
Well, my dear 3 CU readers, I've been brainstorming a new series of projects based on a T-shirt I recently found 30 copies of at a local Goodwill.
I didn't buy all 30 copies, for reasons I think are obvious on viewing (what you can't see in these photos is the date September 13, 2009 just under the picture), but I did buy one copy for this express purpose: to add in a Godzilla in the background that would explain the pained and somewhat terrified look on the 2009 fun run tee man.
These are the results, of course.
I'm obviously not a professional draw-er, but neither is the guy who wants to draw a cat for you. And that's kind of the point, anyway: philosophically speaking, how could anyone make this fun run shirt (or any fun run shirt, or any of the other pointless t-shirts that can be found at any Goodwill on the planet) a unique and desirable product? And yet how could such a re-fashioning of an essentially unfashionable shirt also be made fun and borderline ironic, admitting its essential unfashionableness at the same time it's being made wearable?
I think the answer is Godzilla. This seems so obvious to me that I can't quite believe I haven't been seeing Godzilla drawn on Goodwill shirts every time I walk into a store since I was old enough to understand sarcasm.
In combination with this drawing-Godzilla-on-Goodwill shirts project, I've been inspired by these "pointless" street signs, which pretty much sum up my take on art, humor and public service. So I've made a few early prototypes of "Godzilla vs. XXX" fliers to post around, which I hope will really solve the questions of who would win in various fights, such as "Godzilla vs. 4 Batmans" or "Godzilla vs. Adam West in a Batman costume and also that kid who played Robin."
I'm sure I'll keep you posted on the developments in both of these interrelated areas, and if there's any demand at all, I'd be happy to post my flier template here, somehow, so you can survey those in your geographic location on the outcome of Godzilla vs. whoever. My long-term plan is to start a new blog just for fliers and shirts, so as to keep those 3 readers (strangers, presumably) who might find the flier on the street, from being frustrated by the years of diverse personal rambling here.
For you guys, more diverse personal rambling to come.
I didn't buy all 30 copies, for reasons I think are obvious on viewing (what you can't see in these photos is the date September 13, 2009 just under the picture), but I did buy one copy for this express purpose: to add in a Godzilla in the background that would explain the pained and somewhat terrified look on the 2009 fun run tee man.
These are the results, of course.
I'm obviously not a professional draw-er, but neither is the guy who wants to draw a cat for you. And that's kind of the point, anyway: philosophically speaking, how could anyone make this fun run shirt (or any fun run shirt, or any of the other pointless t-shirts that can be found at any Goodwill on the planet) a unique and desirable product? And yet how could such a re-fashioning of an essentially unfashionable shirt also be made fun and borderline ironic, admitting its essential unfashionableness at the same time it's being made wearable?
I think the answer is Godzilla. This seems so obvious to me that I can't quite believe I haven't been seeing Godzilla drawn on Goodwill shirts every time I walk into a store since I was old enough to understand sarcasm.
In combination with this drawing-Godzilla-on-Goodwill shirts project, I've been inspired by these "pointless" street signs, which pretty much sum up my take on art, humor and public service. So I've made a few early prototypes of "Godzilla vs. XXX" fliers to post around, which I hope will really solve the questions of who would win in various fights, such as "Godzilla vs. 4 Batmans" or "Godzilla vs. Adam West in a Batman costume and also that kid who played Robin."
I'm sure I'll keep you posted on the developments in both of these interrelated areas, and if there's any demand at all, I'd be happy to post my flier template here, somehow, so you can survey those in your geographic location on the outcome of Godzilla vs. whoever. My long-term plan is to start a new blog just for fliers and shirts, so as to keep those 3 readers (strangers, presumably) who might find the flier on the street, from being frustrated by the years of diverse personal rambling here.
For you guys, more diverse personal rambling to come.
Monday, August 1, 2011
PSA: I had a lot of things to say in July.
I just didn't write them down, unfortunately.
So, for August, expect at the very least a review of Fantasy Freaks and Gaming Geeks, along with perhaps a defense of RPG games (though I've never DM'd anything in my life), and possibly some more complaining about my oil-burning Chevy, Maggie, as well as (I hope) a few funny/interesting/diverting photos of local trivia.
In the meantime, as a tribute to P.C. and "things on the Internet he finds hilarious," chive on.
So, for August, expect at the very least a review of Fantasy Freaks and Gaming Geeks, along with perhaps a defense of RPG games (though I've never DM'd anything in my life), and possibly some more complaining about my oil-burning Chevy, Maggie, as well as (I hope) a few funny/interesting/diverting photos of local trivia.
In the meantime, as a tribute to P.C. and "things on the Internet he finds hilarious," chive on.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
The new V on TV
I'd considered making this a defense of poppery post, but I'd only have been defending this series from those who loved the old TV miniseries, and from those who like me had hated the original and needed to be convinced to give the new one a try.
So instead, for the masses: the first season of the new series V is excellent.
There are plot holes, which is typical for first-season dramas, especially when they only have half a season to prove themselves, and it's one of only two seasons of V that will be produced -- also typical for dramas these days, especially when they only have half seasons to prove themselves. But the reimagining of the "enemies among us" paranoia of the frumpy, stilted and oh-so-80s original version of V has been updated to great benefit for both the narrative and us, the modern audience.
Special effects aren't usually something I care about, and when I do I'm usually complaining about them and how they distract from the narrative (or lack of one, since they're often used to fill in gaping holes with spectacle rather than substance). The effects in V are, on the other hand, very well done, hardly noticeable (which is what I mean when I say "very well done") and necessary, since we're dealing with alien dudes with well-hidden reptilian skin and superhuman technology.
And the whole "sleeper cell" idea -- now there's a plot premise that's finally found its time. Soviet spies may have been scary in the 80's, but for real horror in that era, give me American Psycho, and for this one, give me the terrorist sleeper cell. The new V hooks directly in to post-9/11 paranoia (not much different than conspiracy theory paranoia pre-9/11, but more substantiated and widespread) immediately, giving us an FBI agent on the inside who's job is to focus on terrorist cell activity. And also, a priest. And an awesome dude who turns out to be a human-empathizing V.
It also does an excellent job of displaying the fear and pain involved in having an impossible task to do with the highest possible stakes for failure. Anyone faced with the technologies of these times and finding herself unconvinced that they're benign can get with that program.
And a bonus: if you've missed Firefly, you can get a small, but eviler, piece of it back with Morena Baccarin as Anna, the leader of the Visitors. Now it's a bit antifeminist, perhaps, to have an evil female overlord, but they're bugs, so who else would evilly lead them? Plus, it allows for an intense and intriguing acting-out of the Oedipus, one that might even be intriguing enough for me to write a long paper on the topic.
So instead, for the masses: the first season of the new series V is excellent.
There are plot holes, which is typical for first-season dramas, especially when they only have half a season to prove themselves, and it's one of only two seasons of V that will be produced -- also typical for dramas these days, especially when they only have half seasons to prove themselves. But the reimagining of the "enemies among us" paranoia of the frumpy, stilted and oh-so-80s original version of V has been updated to great benefit for both the narrative and us, the modern audience.
Special effects aren't usually something I care about, and when I do I'm usually complaining about them and how they distract from the narrative (or lack of one, since they're often used to fill in gaping holes with spectacle rather than substance). The effects in V are, on the other hand, very well done, hardly noticeable (which is what I mean when I say "very well done") and necessary, since we're dealing with alien dudes with well-hidden reptilian skin and superhuman technology.
And the whole "sleeper cell" idea -- now there's a plot premise that's finally found its time. Soviet spies may have been scary in the 80's, but for real horror in that era, give me American Psycho, and for this one, give me the terrorist sleeper cell. The new V hooks directly in to post-9/11 paranoia (not much different than conspiracy theory paranoia pre-9/11, but more substantiated and widespread) immediately, giving us an FBI agent on the inside who's job is to focus on terrorist cell activity. And also, a priest. And an awesome dude who turns out to be a human-empathizing V.
It also does an excellent job of displaying the fear and pain involved in having an impossible task to do with the highest possible stakes for failure. Anyone faced with the technologies of these times and finding herself unconvinced that they're benign can get with that program.
And a bonus: if you've missed Firefly, you can get a small, but eviler, piece of it back with Morena Baccarin as Anna, the leader of the Visitors. Now it's a bit antifeminist, perhaps, to have an evil female overlord, but they're bugs, so who else would evilly lead them? Plus, it allows for an intense and intriguing acting-out of the Oedipus, one that might even be intriguing enough for me to write a long paper on the topic.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
In which a perfectly reasonable call is made for Mark Driscoll to stop being a jerk, and some Christians insist that he be able to continue being one
Here's the post, by Rachel Held Evans.
The post itself is short and to the point, unless like me you read the articles linked within it, and the comments that overflow beneath it. I've been in the process of reading these for several days, enjoying the feeling of outrage at some commenters and at Mark Driscoll, pastor of Mars Hill church in Seattle -- whose youtube videos are easy to find, and who espouses views of manhood and womanhood that directly contradict my theology, experience, and most fervent hopes for the world -- and in that sense actually enjoying the toe-in-the-water experience of being reacquainted with some of evangelicalism's foibles.
There are so many of the foibles. But as an exangelical, I feel only we-the-formerly-initiated can truly understand and laugh at them. Only we can feel the bitterness of the prescriptions and proscriptions of contemporary American fundamentalism...and be sucked in by them again and again.
It's partly that evangelicalism has so much outrage within it, I think, that makes me insist on reading comments urging "men should be encouraged to act like men" and accusing Rachel Held Evans herself of bullying and slander. (The slanderer a woman, no less! Reading between the lines I feel this is implicit in every comment calling her a "gossip" and excoriating her character for pointing out the public faults in Mark Driscoll's. These sorts of objections all began when Paul said in the epistles that he doesn't permit a woman to speak in church. You know the ladies, always gossiping and saying nonsense before the lord.)
I enjoy the superiority of knowing these particular commenters are dumb, and that I know the truth. I enjoy the irritation at their ability to continually rehearse their ridiculous views. I like to be mad at idiots.
But of course, there's the regular human part of me -- the part that's more ex-evangelical than clinging conservative -- that feels pained by all of this. Without that part, I'd be a sociopath. Without that part, I'd never have been an evangelical at all.
Because here's the thing about evangelicalism, at least as I experienced it: it's partly about the pain, superiority and outrage. It's about the external pain, sometimes invented but no less painful for it, of being confronted and judged by the whole world while knowing you're saved. It's about the internal pain of knowing simultaneously that you have the only truth that matters and the injunction to disseminate it, and also that you don't entirely believe it yourself. It's about the pain of flogging yourself and others into service for Christ. It's about conflict, and debate.
I love this kind of stuff.
Reading and mentally repudiating (or "refudiating," more like) the positions of those who for no listed reason (other than Bible verses once again taken out of context and applied liberally only when we feel like it) decided that Rachel Held Evans calling for the end of an unapologetic bashing of "effeminate" worship leaders was actually her speaking out of turn and "slandering" the guy who keeps showing us he hates feminism...that is the work of an evangelical -- or an exangelical. It is the work of evangelicals to quote those Bible verses, applying them liberally only when they support existing doctrine. And it is the work of evangelicals to dispute them.
We are debaters. We are thinkers, but we are most importantly Think-My-Wayers. We are talkers, because if you don't say the prayer just right, Jesus may not understand you and you'll end up in Hell.
It is the work of evangelicals to pretend to be nice, but to hide under politeness and "I'll pray for you"'s a warrior spirit that can cut down the non-believer, the dissenter, the back-slider. Instantly. As though the infected might contaminate you as well.
(We will, too. The infected will infect with doubts, alternatives and indifference.)
For that reason, I can kind of see the points of the commenters saying we should let Mark Driscoll do his thing without questioning him, because the point is not questioning, the point is answering, and Mark Driscoll is answering.
And for that reason, I doubt Mark Driscoll has much to fear from a bunch of emails asking his elders to ask him to stop being such a bully. Driscoll believes in warriors. He calls for Christians (men) to take on that character, and beat up the rest of the world with it. That's what evangelicals are doing, everywhere, laying waste to the flesh and the world like Sherman's army.
Rachel Held Evans' blog, and the comments there, just proved it.
The post itself is short and to the point, unless like me you read the articles linked within it, and the comments that overflow beneath it. I've been in the process of reading these for several days, enjoying the feeling of outrage at some commenters and at Mark Driscoll, pastor of Mars Hill church in Seattle -- whose youtube videos are easy to find, and who espouses views of manhood and womanhood that directly contradict my theology, experience, and most fervent hopes for the world -- and in that sense actually enjoying the toe-in-the-water experience of being reacquainted with some of evangelicalism's foibles.
There are so many of the foibles. But as an exangelical, I feel only we-the-formerly-initiated can truly understand and laugh at them. Only we can feel the bitterness of the prescriptions and proscriptions of contemporary American fundamentalism...and be sucked in by them again and again.
It's partly that evangelicalism has so much outrage within it, I think, that makes me insist on reading comments urging "men should be encouraged to act like men" and accusing Rachel Held Evans herself of bullying and slander. (The slanderer a woman, no less! Reading between the lines I feel this is implicit in every comment calling her a "gossip" and excoriating her character for pointing out the public faults in Mark Driscoll's. These sorts of objections all began when Paul said in the epistles that he doesn't permit a woman to speak in church. You know the ladies, always gossiping and saying nonsense before the lord.)
I enjoy the superiority of knowing these particular commenters are dumb, and that I know the truth. I enjoy the irritation at their ability to continually rehearse their ridiculous views. I like to be mad at idiots.
But of course, there's the regular human part of me -- the part that's more ex-evangelical than clinging conservative -- that feels pained by all of this. Without that part, I'd be a sociopath. Without that part, I'd never have been an evangelical at all.
Because here's the thing about evangelicalism, at least as I experienced it: it's partly about the pain, superiority and outrage. It's about the external pain, sometimes invented but no less painful for it, of being confronted and judged by the whole world while knowing you're saved. It's about the internal pain of knowing simultaneously that you have the only truth that matters and the injunction to disseminate it, and also that you don't entirely believe it yourself. It's about the pain of flogging yourself and others into service for Christ. It's about conflict, and debate.
I love this kind of stuff.
Reading and mentally repudiating (or "refudiating," more like) the positions of those who for no listed reason (other than Bible verses once again taken out of context and applied liberally only when we feel like it) decided that Rachel Held Evans calling for the end of an unapologetic bashing of "effeminate" worship leaders was actually her speaking out of turn and "slandering" the guy who keeps showing us he hates feminism...that is the work of an evangelical -- or an exangelical. It is the work of evangelicals to quote those Bible verses, applying them liberally only when they support existing doctrine. And it is the work of evangelicals to dispute them.
We are debaters. We are thinkers, but we are most importantly Think-My-Wayers. We are talkers, because if you don't say the prayer just right, Jesus may not understand you and you'll end up in Hell.
It is the work of evangelicals to pretend to be nice, but to hide under politeness and "I'll pray for you"'s a warrior spirit that can cut down the non-believer, the dissenter, the back-slider. Instantly. As though the infected might contaminate you as well.
(We will, too. The infected will infect with doubts, alternatives and indifference.)
For that reason, I can kind of see the points of the commenters saying we should let Mark Driscoll do his thing without questioning him, because the point is not questioning, the point is answering, and Mark Driscoll is answering.
And for that reason, I doubt Mark Driscoll has much to fear from a bunch of emails asking his elders to ask him to stop being such a bully. Driscoll believes in warriors. He calls for Christians (men) to take on that character, and beat up the rest of the world with it. That's what evangelicals are doing, everywhere, laying waste to the flesh and the world like Sherman's army.
Rachel Held Evans' blog, and the comments there, just proved it.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
I DON'T actually mean it.
Me, looking at a website forum: "Some of these people are dumb."
P.C.: "You should tell them that."
Me, to the computer: "You people are dumb."
P.C.: "When was the last time you actually told someone they were dumb?"
Me: "I tell you that all the time."
P.C., trailing off as he replies, to barely audible: "Yeah, but you don't actually mean it...do you..."
P.C.: "You should tell them that."
Me, to the computer: "You people are dumb."
P.C.: "When was the last time you actually told someone they were dumb?"
Me: "I tell you that all the time."
P.C., trailing off as he replies, to barely audible: "Yeah, but you don't actually mean it...do you..."
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