So far, I've been paid to have people dress me up and do my hair.
I would have to say that I've definitely chosen the right profession for me. Now all I have to do is do this all the time. And not, say, just this once. We'll see how that goes.
In other news, my real world job told me to fuck off on Monday. Wait. No. That's what I told them. Only, in my head. They said they no longer required my services.
AND I COULD NOT BE HAPPIER.
Tuesday
I like this aspect.
An editorial from the Times-Picayune, September 6, by Chris Rose.
Louisiana ambassadors say hello
Dear America,
I suppose we should introduce ourselves: We're South Louisiana.
We have arrived on your doorstep on short notice and we apologize for that, but we never were much for waiting around for invitations. We're not much on formalities like that.
And we might be staying around your town for a while, enrolling in your schools and looking for jobs, so we wanted to tell you a few things about us. We know you didn't ask for this and neither did we, so we're just going to have to make the best of it.
First of all, we thank you. For your money, your water, your food, your prayers, your boats and buses and the men and women of your National Guards, fire departments, hospitals and everyone else who has come to our rescue.
We're a fiercely proud and independent people, and we don't cotton much to outside interference, but we're not ashamed to accept help when we need it. And right now, we need it.
Just don't get carried away. For instance, once we get around to fishing again, don't try to tell us what kind of lures work best in your waters.
We're not going to listen. We're stubborn that way.
You probably already know that we talk funny and listen to strange music and eat things you'd probably hire an exterminator to get out of your yard.
We dance even if there's no radio. We drink at funerals. We talk too much and laugh too loud and live too large and, frankly, we're suspicious of others who don't.
But we'll try not to judge you while we're in your town.
Everybody loves their home, we know that. But we love South Louisiana with a ferocity that borders on the pathological. Sometimes we bury our dead in LSU sweatshirts.
Often we don't make sense. You may wonder why, for instance - if we could only carry one small bag of belongings with us on our journey to your state - why in God's name did we bring a pair of shrimp boots?
We can't really explain that. It is what it is.
You've probably heard that many of us stayed behind. As bad as it is, many of us cannot fathom a life outside of our border, out in that place we call Elsewhere.
The only way you could understand that is if you have been there, and so many of you have. So you realize that when you strip away all the craziness and bars and parades and music and architecture and all that hooey, really, the best thing about where we come from is us.
We are what made this place a national treasure. We're good people. And don't be afraid to ask us how to pronounce our names. It happens all the time.
When you meet us now and you look into our eyes, you will see the saddest story ever told. Our hearts are broken into a thousand pieces.
But don't pity us. We're gonna make it. We're resilient. After all, we've been rooting for the Saints for 35 years. That's got to count for something.
OK, maybe something else you should know is that we make jokes at inappropriate times.
But what the hell.
And one more thing: In our part of the country, we're used to having visitors. It's our way of life.
So when all this is over and we move back home, we will repay to you the hospitality and generosity of spirit you offer to us in this season of our despair.
That is our promise. That is our faith.
Louisiana ambassadors say hello
Dear America,
I suppose we should introduce ourselves: We're South Louisiana.
We have arrived on your doorstep on short notice and we apologize for that, but we never were much for waiting around for invitations. We're not much on formalities like that.
And we might be staying around your town for a while, enrolling in your schools and looking for jobs, so we wanted to tell you a few things about us. We know you didn't ask for this and neither did we, so we're just going to have to make the best of it.
First of all, we thank you. For your money, your water, your food, your prayers, your boats and buses and the men and women of your National Guards, fire departments, hospitals and everyone else who has come to our rescue.
We're a fiercely proud and independent people, and we don't cotton much to outside interference, but we're not ashamed to accept help when we need it. And right now, we need it.
Just don't get carried away. For instance, once we get around to fishing again, don't try to tell us what kind of lures work best in your waters.
We're not going to listen. We're stubborn that way.
You probably already know that we talk funny and listen to strange music and eat things you'd probably hire an exterminator to get out of your yard.
We dance even if there's no radio. We drink at funerals. We talk too much and laugh too loud and live too large and, frankly, we're suspicious of others who don't.
But we'll try not to judge you while we're in your town.
Everybody loves their home, we know that. But we love South Louisiana with a ferocity that borders on the pathological. Sometimes we bury our dead in LSU sweatshirts.
Often we don't make sense. You may wonder why, for instance - if we could only carry one small bag of belongings with us on our journey to your state - why in God's name did we bring a pair of shrimp boots?
We can't really explain that. It is what it is.
You've probably heard that many of us stayed behind. As bad as it is, many of us cannot fathom a life outside of our border, out in that place we call Elsewhere.
The only way you could understand that is if you have been there, and so many of you have. So you realize that when you strip away all the craziness and bars and parades and music and architecture and all that hooey, really, the best thing about where we come from is us.
We are what made this place a national treasure. We're good people. And don't be afraid to ask us how to pronounce our names. It happens all the time.
When you meet us now and you look into our eyes, you will see the saddest story ever told. Our hearts are broken into a thousand pieces.
But don't pity us. We're gonna make it. We're resilient. After all, we've been rooting for the Saints for 35 years. That's got to count for something.
OK, maybe something else you should know is that we make jokes at inappropriate times.
But what the hell.
And one more thing: In our part of the country, we're used to having visitors. It's our way of life.
So when all this is over and we move back home, we will repay to you the hospitality and generosity of spirit you offer to us in this season of our despair.
That is our promise. That is our faith.
Sunday
That's all I was looking for.
"But to my country I want to say this: During this crisis you failed us. You looked down on us; you dismissed our victims; you dismissed us. You want our Jazz Fest, you want our Mardi Gras, you want our cooking and our music. Then when you saw us in real trouble, when you saw a tiny minority preying on the weak among us, you called us 'Sin City,' and turned your backs.
Well, we are a lot more than all that. And though we may seem the most exotic, the most atmospheric and, at times, the most downtrodden part of this land, we are still part of it. We are Americans. We are you."
-- Anne Rice September 4, 2005
Well, we are a lot more than all that. And though we may seem the most exotic, the most atmospheric and, at times, the most downtrodden part of this land, we are still part of it. We are Americans. We are you."
-- Anne Rice September 4, 2005
Monday
NATTY GANN!
I was fitted for costumes today. I don't want to say anything until I'm stuck in front of a camera, because crazy paranoia has settled in.
Anyway, I was shuffled in front of the costume designer for inspection. Then the nice fellow dressing me took me back to make some alterations. I asked him if we'd show the costume director again when we were done, and he looked at me with this look of terror, waved his hands and shook his head a little when he said "Oh no." In the same quiet voice he went on to explain that the short little old man I'd just met had won two Oscars. It was kind of awesome and hilarious.
He's also been nominated for three other projects. One of which. Is The Journey Of Natty Gann.
I am more excited about this than anything else so far. I'm so serious. You have no idea.
Anyway, I was shuffled in front of the costume designer for inspection. Then the nice fellow dressing me took me back to make some alterations. I asked him if we'd show the costume director again when we were done, and he looked at me with this look of terror, waved his hands and shook his head a little when he said "Oh no." In the same quiet voice he went on to explain that the short little old man I'd just met had won two Oscars. It was kind of awesome and hilarious.
He's also been nominated for three other projects. One of which. Is The Journey Of Natty Gann.
I am more excited about this than anything else so far. I'm so serious. You have no idea.
Saturday
Wait, what?
Okay. So. Last week on the 18th (which, incidentally, was my cousin's 25th birthday) I was not at work. Beth figured this out because I was not using webmail, which formats my emails differently then they are usually formatted. But I didn't really tell anybody beforehand. I told Beth, obviously. And Lauren.
I went to an audition for this movie, directed by this director and starring a young acclaimed actress. It has something to do with the Beatles but not directly. They said, "dress up like 60s people." And so I did, purchasing a dress from the internet in short order and doing my hair and makeup as best I was able. I decided to be a mod (heeee) since I was sure 90% of everybody would be showing up as hippies. I think I was totally right.
Pictures, incidentally, are available. I'm either totally pretty or depressingly hideous, depending on my mood.
Also, according to the form I filled out, this film may have naked people in it. I'll totally not be one of them.
I got a call yesterday morning from a fellow named Robert. It was around noon, so I was totally still in bed and I got up to check the phone, which was displaying "Unavailable#." Interesting, but I went back to sleep until I felt I could adequately did with things. And I showered and got dressed before I listened to the message, because I'm weird.
He wanted to know about my availability. For the movie. And then I had a orderly conversation, and scheduled an appointment to be fitted for costume. And then I called my mother and spent 15 minutes hopping around.
... Keen-eyed readers may have noticed that I am not at my house.
I went to an audition for this movie, directed by this director and starring a young acclaimed actress. It has something to do with the Beatles but not directly. They said, "dress up like 60s people." And so I did, purchasing a dress from the internet in short order and doing my hair and makeup as best I was able. I decided to be a mod (heeee) since I was sure 90% of everybody would be showing up as hippies. I think I was totally right.
Pictures, incidentally, are available. I'm either totally pretty or depressingly hideous, depending on my mood.
Also, according to the form I filled out, this film may have naked people in it. I'll totally not be one of them.
I got a call yesterday morning from a fellow named Robert. It was around noon, so I was totally still in bed and I got up to check the phone, which was displaying "Unavailable#." Interesting, but I went back to sleep until I felt I could adequately did with things. And I showered and got dressed before I listened to the message, because I'm weird.
He wanted to know about my availability. For the movie. And then I had a orderly conversation, and scheduled an appointment to be fitted for costume. And then I called my mother and spent 15 minutes hopping around.
... Keen-eyed readers may have noticed that I am not at my house.
Friday
Poor Tiny Lauren!
She's going to have to buy so many movie tickets!
Just because I'm going to be in some movie about the Beatles.
HOLY CRAP!
...Extra. But, still.
Just because I'm going to be in some movie about the Beatles.
HOLY CRAP!
...Extra. But, still.
Tuesday
Strong baritone!
"He is brash, defiant, and bold. He breaks all the rules and never gives up. Makes his own way in the world and has a strong sense of morality. Should be tall and striking. A rock or movie star presence. Strong baritone."
Holy crap. I can't believe this show is really getting made. It's so crazy.
In news that is very unrelated ... today is my Aunt Rose's birthday. She is 92 years old.
Holy crap. I can't believe this show is really getting made. It's so crazy.
In news that is very unrelated ... today is my Aunt Rose's birthday. She is 92 years old.
Wednesday
How did that happen!
I just made a rather enormous insect disappear. I didn't even have to use clever Latin! Seriously. It was in my bathroom. On the ceiling. I have no idea what it was, but it looked like a cross between a cricket and a giant moth. Maybe. Something. I don't know. It had really long antennae. My instinct was that it probably wouldn't try to kill me, but holy crap was it a large bug.
I grabbed a magazine with which to attempt to brush it down off the ceiling. It actually took me several attempts, even though my ceiling isn't that high, because of the stumpy nature of my limbs. But finally, I got it.
And then it disappeared. I didn't smash it, just swooshed it. And then it was gone. I checked the places I thought it might be. In my hair? On my clothes? In my hair? In my clothes? On me? In my hair? Towels? On my clothes? Floor? In my hair? In the magazine? On my legs?
People. It disappeared. I can't think of any other explanation of how this rather large, rather slow moving thing was in my line of sight and then no where to be found a fraction of a second later.
Unless it's in my hair.
... It's not in my hair.
I got a dress today. It came in the mail. I'm not going to work tomorrow. I'm dressing up. It promises to be great.
I grabbed a magazine with which to attempt to brush it down off the ceiling. It actually took me several attempts, even though my ceiling isn't that high, because of the stumpy nature of my limbs. But finally, I got it.
And then it disappeared. I didn't smash it, just swooshed it. And then it was gone. I checked the places I thought it might be. In my hair? On my clothes? In my hair? In my clothes? On me? In my hair? Towels? On my clothes? Floor? In my hair? In the magazine? On my legs?
People. It disappeared. I can't think of any other explanation of how this rather large, rather slow moving thing was in my line of sight and then no where to be found a fraction of a second later.
Unless it's in my hair.
... It's not in my hair.
I got a dress today. It came in the mail. I'm not going to work tomorrow. I'm dressing up. It promises to be great.
Tuesday
Awesome.
 | You scored as Albus Dumbledore. Strong and powerful you admirably defend your world and your charges against those who would seek to harm them. However sometimes you can fail to do what you must because you care too much to cause suffering.
Your Harry Potter Alter Ego Is...? created with QuizFarm.com |
Monday
"There's no place like 127.86.7.1"
This was on a bumper sticker on a car parked at the Purple House. Three of you know which one I mean. I giggled a lot. A lot.
This morning, I found out that Peter Jennings died, and I fought down tears for almost two hours, because I had to answer phones.
This morning, I found out that Peter Jennings died, and I fought down tears for almost two hours, because I had to answer phones.
Thursday
Why are all my ideas for bumper stickers blaphemous?
Man. I don't really like my job. I mean, it's not terrible. Most of the people are pretty awesome. The ladies are great, and really attractive. The young gents are cool, because they haven't developed egos yet. Oh! But BP has left the building, permanently. And he left in the middle of the day, so I didn't have the chance to ask how old he was. Sorry Pat! But then again, I didn't want him to 66 me. I'm in a whole new fandom these days.
Shit. There I go again, saying things that make no sense except to me and maybe one or two other people. I'm tired. That's my excuse.
Anyway, what I don't like revolves around the fact that it's boring. I sit in front of the phone and wait for it to ring. And I can't move too far from it in case it rings. It creates all this unpleasant tenseness in me. Then, there's the fact that I answer the phone. That's my job. Which is insane, because for many years I was petrified of talking on the phone. I think I finally started getting better once I started talking to internet weirdos, incidentally. Like, I remember the first time I called Pat, and he hated talking on the phone, and I hated talking on the phone, but we managed to have a conversation for, like, half an hour. It was pretty cool.
When I was in HiCal this spring, Mary-Jane and I watched American Idol together while the menfolk ditched us and we were charged with the particularly cruel task of calling to order pizza. I volunteered, because I've gotten so much better about this phone thing. Sometimes, I can even pick up the receiver *lazily.*
But I still don't like talking on the phone if I can help it. When I talk on the phone to people I love, my breath still sometimes get shallow and I start gasping for breath. I don't know why. It just does. And while I'm okay at my job, somewhere in me, it still freaks me out. It still causes this tension and unpleasantness, it's just hidden. I'm really relieved when I don't have to be there.
Not that I think I'd be happier in a non-receptionist position. I've always known that I would not do well in an office job. And perhaps I'm being proven right now because I have absolutely no interest in what this company does. It was okay doing clerical business at the McCarter, because I loved what I was doing there, no matter how small.
Here, gruff gentlemen call up and sound irate before I even speak to them. Then I try to put them through to the guy who's always stressed out and never wants to take calls because he gets about fifty a day, and his assistant is never at her desk, so the same person calls back a minute later saying, "Uh, I wanted to talk to [what's his face] and you gave me his secretary's voicemail!"
Sorry dude! This probably wouldn't happen if they could see how cute I am. Alas, they can't. My hair's getting so long again. This makes me happy.
I have this persistent fear that the people on the other end are going to start yelling at me. I hate having to put people on hold, holding my breath until the little beep that tells me that it's been a minute. I don't know what to tell them when one of the gents tells me to lie and say that he's not in the office, like happened today. I don't like lying. I'm not very good at it. And I'm completely sure that the person on the other end knows I'm lying. It makes me feel really unpleasant.
The highlight of my day is coming back from my lunch break (1-2PM EST, during which I typically do not eat lunch, but wonder who I can call up. If you're interested, let me know!) and sorting the mail. Even though half of it isn't addressed to anyone in particular. It kills at least an hour, and nearly two on Mondays.
Here's something good, though: I always have a piece of scrap paper to take down the names and business of people who call in. I've started picking various bits of my scribblings and labelling them "For Enemies." This cracks me up so much. SO MUCH. You have no idea.
Shit. There I go again, saying things that make no sense except to me and maybe one or two other people. I'm tired. That's my excuse.
Anyway, what I don't like revolves around the fact that it's boring. I sit in front of the phone and wait for it to ring. And I can't move too far from it in case it rings. It creates all this unpleasant tenseness in me. Then, there's the fact that I answer the phone. That's my job. Which is insane, because for many years I was petrified of talking on the phone. I think I finally started getting better once I started talking to internet weirdos, incidentally. Like, I remember the first time I called Pat, and he hated talking on the phone, and I hated talking on the phone, but we managed to have a conversation for, like, half an hour. It was pretty cool.
When I was in HiCal this spring, Mary-Jane and I watched American Idol together while the menfolk ditched us and we were charged with the particularly cruel task of calling to order pizza. I volunteered, because I've gotten so much better about this phone thing. Sometimes, I can even pick up the receiver *lazily.*
But I still don't like talking on the phone if I can help it. When I talk on the phone to people I love, my breath still sometimes get shallow and I start gasping for breath. I don't know why. It just does. And while I'm okay at my job, somewhere in me, it still freaks me out. It still causes this tension and unpleasantness, it's just hidden. I'm really relieved when I don't have to be there.
Not that I think I'd be happier in a non-receptionist position. I've always known that I would not do well in an office job. And perhaps I'm being proven right now because I have absolutely no interest in what this company does. It was okay doing clerical business at the McCarter, because I loved what I was doing there, no matter how small.
Here, gruff gentlemen call up and sound irate before I even speak to them. Then I try to put them through to the guy who's always stressed out and never wants to take calls because he gets about fifty a day, and his assistant is never at her desk, so the same person calls back a minute later saying, "Uh, I wanted to talk to [what's his face] and you gave me his secretary's voicemail!"
Sorry dude! This probably wouldn't happen if they could see how cute I am. Alas, they can't. My hair's getting so long again. This makes me happy.
I have this persistent fear that the people on the other end are going to start yelling at me. I hate having to put people on hold, holding my breath until the little beep that tells me that it's been a minute. I don't know what to tell them when one of the gents tells me to lie and say that he's not in the office, like happened today. I don't like lying. I'm not very good at it. And I'm completely sure that the person on the other end knows I'm lying. It makes me feel really unpleasant.
The highlight of my day is coming back from my lunch break (1-2PM EST, during which I typically do not eat lunch, but wonder who I can call up. If you're interested, let me know!) and sorting the mail. Even though half of it isn't addressed to anyone in particular. It kills at least an hour, and nearly two on Mondays.
Here's something good, though: I always have a piece of scrap paper to take down the names and business of people who call in. I've started picking various bits of my scribblings and labelling them "For Enemies." This cracks me up so much. SO MUCH. You have no idea.
Sunday
And, now I'm back.
Book status: Finished!
One word summary: Dude.
Initial comments: Damn I'm good! I totally figured out everything except for one thing, which I will now claim doesn't really make sense. I mean, the explanation was decent enough, but still. And it makes "sense" and everything, but. ...It doesn't work for me. Oh, and then there was that one thing that was a total surprise.
On that note: I totally know who it is.
One word summary: Dude.
Initial comments: Damn I'm good! I totally figured out everything except for one thing, which I will now claim doesn't really make sense. I mean, the explanation was decent enough, but still. And it makes "sense" and everything, but. ...It doesn't work for me. Oh, and then there was that one thing that was a total surprise.
On that note: I totally know who it is.
Friday
The Spish and I will not be neighbors.
Or maybe we will! Also, seriously. Hobo spiders. From Pat, from findyourspot.com
1. Worchester, Massachusetts. "The Heart of the Commonwealth"
This city at the heart of New England is home to the EcoTarium, a science center for all ages… Population: 502,500 Avg. Home Price: $215,000
2. Providence, Rhode Island "New England’s Best Kept Kept Secret"
This Rhode Island spot is the home of the award-winning flaming sculpture WaterFire, installed on the three rivers of downtown... Population: 1,213,000 Avg. Home Price: $242,000
3. New Haven, Connecticut "Home of Yale University"
The first hamburger was cooked at Louis' Lunch in this Connecticut spot in 1900... Population: 542,000 Avg. Home Price: $175,000
(New fucking Haven? Heh!)
4. Baltimore, Maryland "The Sparkling Harbor City"
This Atlantic seaboard city is home to the National Aquarium… Population: 4,750,000 Avg. Home Price: $215,000
(Bwahahahahahahahahahahaaaa! No thanks!)
5. Hartford, Connecticut "The Insurance Capital"
This Connecticut city is home to America's oldest State House, oldest public art museum, and oldest continuously published newspaper... Population: 871,500 Avg. Home Price: $148,000
6. Boston, Massachusetts "America’s Walking City"
Here in "America's Walking City," you can stroll down to famous Franklin Park for the annual Kite Festival... Population: 3,400,00 Avg. Home Price: $461,500
7. Danbury, Connecticut "Small-Town Charm Near the Big Apple"
Zadoc Benedict began making beaver hats here in 1780, starting this Connecticut town's important hat industry... Population: 75,000 Avg. Home Price: $280,000
8. Frederick, Maryland "Where The Past Comes Alive"
This Maryland city's Great Fair is one of the nation's oldest county agricultural fairs… Population: 53,000 Avg. Home Price: $280,000
9. Charleston, West Virginia "The Home of Hospitality"
For a taste of yesteryear, catch the boat races at this West Virginia city's annual Sternwheel Regatta... Population: 53,000 Avg. Home Price: $149,000
10. Gaithersburg, Maryland "The Park City"
This town is home to a "Latitude Observatory" - one of five in the world - built in 1899 to measure the wobble of the earth's axis... Population: 53,000 Avg. Home Price: $300,000
11. Cape Cod, Massachusetts "Jewel of the New England Coast"
This peninsula is home to the oldest public library in America: the Sturgis Library, established in 1644… Population: 222,000 Avg. Home Price: $325,000
12. Milwaulkee, Wisconsin "The Genuine American City"
This Wisconsin "City of Festivals" celebrates its diverse ethnic heritage all year long, with over 20 major cultural festivals… Population: 1,500,000 Avg. Home Price: $125,000
(????)
13. Portland, Oregon "City of Roses"
This Oregon city has the nation's largest forested municipal park, the aptly-named Forest Park… Population: 2,000,000 Avg. Home Price: $259,000
14. Washington, District of Columbia "The World's Greatest Capital"
This most patriotic of American cities was laid out by a French architect… Population: 572,000 Avg. Home Price: $300,000
(I distinctly said "no corruption, please")
15. Chicago, Illinois "The Windy City"
This big city has more shopping center space per capita than any other American city… Population: 2,869,000 Avg. Home Price: $237,000
(If I lived here, I could see fine musical acts. Furthermore, I hear it's clean.)
16. Little Rock, Arkansas "Where America Comes Together"
All Maybelline products distributed in the U.S. are made in this fashion-conscious spot… Population: 584,000 Avg. Home Price: $150,000
17. Stamford-Norwalk, Connecticut "Connecticut’s Key Cities"
This seaside spot in Connecticut is projected to have the highest median income in the country by 2009… Population: 353,600 Avg. Home Price: $365,000
(Then why does it think I can afford it? Why does it think I can afford any of these places!)
18. Carson City, Nevada "Nevada’s Historic Capital"
This Frontier city thrived and became a territorial capital following the discovery of the famous Comstock silver lode in the 1850's… Population: 55,000 Avg. Home Price: $290,000
(Hey! At least somebody can live in Nevada!)
19. Cambridge, Massachusetts "Boston’s Spirited Sister"
Home to Harvard, MIT, and a large number of high-tech companies, this spot is world-renowned as an educational and technological mecca… Population: 101,600 Avg. Home Price: $540,700
20. Medford, Oregon "Gateway to the Pacific Northwest"
This gorgeous spot boasts the West's only operating water-powered grist mill, located on the banks of Little Butte Creek since 1872… Population: 190,000 Avg. Home Price: $238,000
21. Madison, Wisconsin "Athens Of The Midwest"
Located between lakes Monona and Mendota, this picturesque spot is the only North American city built on an isthmus… Population: 436,500 Avg. Home Price: $202,000
22. Bend, Oregon "Oregon’s Natural Playground"
This Oregon town's municipal airport was used for pilot training during World War II… Population: 52,000 Avg. Home Price: $209,000
23. Sheboygan, Wisconsin "Wisconsin’s Jewel on the Lake"
Reader's Digest declared this the best spot in the country to raise a family… Population: 51,000 Avg. Home Price: $125,000
24. Fayetteville, Arkansas "Light of the Ozarks"
Near the University of Arkansas campus, this town's Dickson Street is filled with lively bistros, night clubs and galleries… Population: 58,000 Avg. Home Price: $165,000
1. Worchester, Massachusetts. "The Heart of the Commonwealth"
2. Providence, Rhode Island "New England’s Best Kept Kept Secret"
3. New Haven, Connecticut "Home of Yale University"
(New fucking Haven? Heh!)
4. Baltimore, Maryland "The Sparkling Harbor City"
(Bwahahahahahahahahahahaaaa! No thanks!)
5. Hartford, Connecticut "The Insurance Capital"
6. Boston, Massachusetts "America’s Walking City"
7. Danbury, Connecticut "Small-Town Charm Near the Big Apple"
8. Frederick, Maryland "Where The Past Comes Alive"
9. Charleston, West Virginia "The Home of Hospitality"
10. Gaithersburg, Maryland "The Park City"
11. Cape Cod, Massachusetts "Jewel of the New England Coast"
12. Milwaulkee, Wisconsin "The Genuine American City"
(????)
13. Portland, Oregon "City of Roses"
14. Washington, District of Columbia "The World's Greatest Capital"
(I distinctly said "no corruption, please")
15. Chicago, Illinois "The Windy City"
(If I lived here, I could see fine musical acts. Furthermore, I hear it's clean.)
16. Little Rock, Arkansas "Where America Comes Together"
17. Stamford-Norwalk, Connecticut "Connecticut’s Key Cities"
(Then why does it think I can afford it? Why does it think I can afford any of these places!)
18. Carson City, Nevada "Nevada’s Historic Capital"
(Hey! At least somebody can live in Nevada!)
19. Cambridge, Massachusetts "Boston’s Spirited Sister"
20. Medford, Oregon "Gateway to the Pacific Northwest"
21. Madison, Wisconsin "Athens Of The Midwest"
22. Bend, Oregon "Oregon’s Natural Playground"
23. Sheboygan, Wisconsin "Wisconsin’s Jewel on the Lake"
24. Fayetteville, Arkansas "Light of the Ozarks"
Thursday
Better.
An enigmatic recluse with a mysterious past and even stranger loyalties, you are an intensely serious presence.
HA!
Wednesday
It was delayed in customs.
Man, I hate having a job. I feel like there's no time for all the stuff I'm supposed to be doing. Because, hilariously, I don't seem to think of an office job that pays me money as something I'm *supposed* to be doing. No, what I'm supposed to be doing is checking my email, writing a review, calling a theatre, mailing out some headshots, making a sandwich and taking a nap. And reading a very important book.
So, should I even be writting this right now? I feel like I'm in a good writing place. Things have been coming out of me lately that sound like how I wanted them to sound. And I figure I probably shouldn't waste the opportunity.
This entry is not about Harry Potter (sorry Steph) but it has something vaguely to do with it, and the fact that the internet is insane.
If you look around this fair 'net of ours, well, maybe, if you look a few days back, you will see people marking their completion of the sixth Harry Potter book. Usually totalled in hours. Like a badge of honor. The same thing happened the when the last one came out. That one that was something like a thousand pages. I can't even remember. I read it over the course of the weekend it came out on. Saturday and Sunday. Midday around each. With a pause for sleep. Maybe somewhere around 16 hours total reading time. And I was drained by the end of it, and then I still had to see people talk about how they finished it in four hours or less.
It's weird to describe how I feel about this. I'm not against reading fast. I'm not against speed reading. I can read fairly fast. If I have to. I read faster than I type, anyway. Yet I don't really like reading fast. Why I did it with Order of the Phoenix I think was a combination of peer emulation and fear of being spoiled. And I wanted to stay with the crowd. Everyone's talking about it, I want to talk about it. I don't want to be filled with the desire to converse and discuss when everyone else has been over it already for a week. It's not like an episode of a television show, where everyone gets that same one hour, and then you're all on the same page. No, this requires some endurance and stamina. Some concentration and motivation. Some willpower and some goals.
And to be honest, I don't want any of that shit when I read. I know I'm not alone.
When I went out to California this spring, I went over to Kirk and Mary-Jane's and we watched Veronica Mars. The boy wasn't into that, and instead opted to borrow from Kirk's library and read. LIKE A GEEEEEEEEEEK! Ahem. Anyway, after the hour was over he had all but finished 'I Am Legend' or whatever it was he had picked up. I mean, nothing substantial, but at least a few hundred pages. I was moderately in awe at the speed of his reading. Our hosts may remember that there was an ensuant discussion about the speed of reading. Kirk agreed with me that it was weird to read that fast. He wasn't down. I find I'm like Kirk about things like that. We don't like spoilers, and our significant others are all about them. Kirk doesn't read fast. Neither do I.
And, as I've said, it's not that I can't. It's that I don't want to. Flying through a story is not what reading is for me. I like to read. I always have. And I mean, I really like it. I like words. I like reading words. I like looking at words. I like seeing them connect and follow, and I like thinking about them. I like reading a powerful or interesting passage and then closing my eyes and holding the book to my chest for moment. And then I read the passage again. I say the words out loud inside my head. I smile at sentences. I enjoy the hell out of a good book.
When I read Order of the Phoenix, I did not do this. I sped through it, as best I could while still reading every word. (I *read* every word, by the way.) And when I was done ... I did not feel so great. I actually felt a little physically uncomfortable, like I had eaten too much in one sitting. My brain was struggling to catch up with all the information that I'd put into it. All the emotion and all the events and everything was just there and gone so freaking fast. I felt unsatisfied. I felt like I wanted more to read, only of course there was no more, because I'd finished it all. I wanted to stay in the spell. The mood. The moment. But it was already gone. It was over. And that made me a little sad.
It's not just about finding out what happens. I was reading my favorite book this week. I've read it at least ten times over the past few years. It's less than five hundred pages. I'm only through half of it. It would probably take me until the end of the week to finish it, and I'm not going to, because I want to start on Harry. But I'm sure as hell not going to be done with it tomorrow. Or the next day. I'm actually not even projecting an end date for this. I'm not doing that this time.
This time, like I usually do, I'm going to savor my book, instead of gobbling it. I'll see you in a couple days.
So, should I even be writting this right now? I feel like I'm in a good writing place. Things have been coming out of me lately that sound like how I wanted them to sound. And I figure I probably shouldn't waste the opportunity.
This entry is not about Harry Potter (sorry Steph) but it has something vaguely to do with it, and the fact that the internet is insane.
If you look around this fair 'net of ours, well, maybe, if you look a few days back, you will see people marking their completion of the sixth Harry Potter book. Usually totalled in hours. Like a badge of honor. The same thing happened the when the last one came out. That one that was something like a thousand pages. I can't even remember. I read it over the course of the weekend it came out on. Saturday and Sunday. Midday around each. With a pause for sleep. Maybe somewhere around 16 hours total reading time. And I was drained by the end of it, and then I still had to see people talk about how they finished it in four hours or less.
It's weird to describe how I feel about this. I'm not against reading fast. I'm not against speed reading. I can read fairly fast. If I have to. I read faster than I type, anyway. Yet I don't really like reading fast. Why I did it with Order of the Phoenix I think was a combination of peer emulation and fear of being spoiled. And I wanted to stay with the crowd. Everyone's talking about it, I want to talk about it. I don't want to be filled with the desire to converse and discuss when everyone else has been over it already for a week. It's not like an episode of a television show, where everyone gets that same one hour, and then you're all on the same page. No, this requires some endurance and stamina. Some concentration and motivation. Some willpower and some goals.
And to be honest, I don't want any of that shit when I read. I know I'm not alone.
When I went out to California this spring, I went over to Kirk and Mary-Jane's and we watched Veronica Mars. The boy wasn't into that, and instead opted to borrow from Kirk's library and read. LIKE A GEEEEEEEEEEK! Ahem. Anyway, after the hour was over he had all but finished 'I Am Legend' or whatever it was he had picked up. I mean, nothing substantial, but at least a few hundred pages. I was moderately in awe at the speed of his reading. Our hosts may remember that there was an ensuant discussion about the speed of reading. Kirk agreed with me that it was weird to read that fast. He wasn't down. I find I'm like Kirk about things like that. We don't like spoilers, and our significant others are all about them. Kirk doesn't read fast. Neither do I.
And, as I've said, it's not that I can't. It's that I don't want to. Flying through a story is not what reading is for me. I like to read. I always have. And I mean, I really like it. I like words. I like reading words. I like looking at words. I like seeing them connect and follow, and I like thinking about them. I like reading a powerful or interesting passage and then closing my eyes and holding the book to my chest for moment. And then I read the passage again. I say the words out loud inside my head. I smile at sentences. I enjoy the hell out of a good book.
When I read Order of the Phoenix, I did not do this. I sped through it, as best I could while still reading every word. (I *read* every word, by the way.) And when I was done ... I did not feel so great. I actually felt a little physically uncomfortable, like I had eaten too much in one sitting. My brain was struggling to catch up with all the information that I'd put into it. All the emotion and all the events and everything was just there and gone so freaking fast. I felt unsatisfied. I felt like I wanted more to read, only of course there was no more, because I'd finished it all. I wanted to stay in the spell. The mood. The moment. But it was already gone. It was over. And that made me a little sad.
It's not just about finding out what happens. I was reading my favorite book this week. I've read it at least ten times over the past few years. It's less than five hundred pages. I'm only through half of it. It would probably take me until the end of the week to finish it, and I'm not going to, because I want to start on Harry. But I'm sure as hell not going to be done with it tomorrow. Or the next day. I'm actually not even projecting an end date for this. I'm not doing that this time.
This time, like I usually do, I'm going to savor my book, instead of gobbling it. I'll see you in a couple days.
Saturday
Of singing newsboys, and other matters.
First, I'm totally sick. Or maybe it's just allergies. I can't really tell. I've been at the stage where everything is itchy and gross, and normally this quickly progresses to the stage where I feel like I can't move and am near death. But instead, I've been at this preliminary stage for the past three days. And now there's coughing. And sinus pain. And I'm out of vitamin C.
This could be perhaps because I've been living with heat and a guinea pig in my room for the past week. And I have another week to go. And ... all sorts of stuff is going on, and I've been lately working 8:30 to 5. I hope I fix soon.
I've been rereading my favorite book, and I've reacquired some songs that I used to have from the musical "Newsies." I think I've mentioned in the past that I have a strange love for this movie. In general, I tend to enjoy movies about young men and their bonds of friendship. Typically, it's best if they're in a prep school of some kind, but it doesn't have to be. I've never really cared for movies about school girls bonding, though. I mean, they're all right, but usually all filled with commentaries on the trials of womanhood, and BFFs, and God. BORING.
Anyway, Newsies is one of those movies that I still enjoy, though in a far different way than when I first saw it. First of all, I don't think I'm still in love with Gabriel Damon, even though at the time he had all the sex appeal that an eight year old's brain could recognize. I am, however, still in love with Christian Bale. And this is where it started! Everyone else is a Christian Bale lovin' poser. Also, there are lots of other young men in the film who I've come to love from their later (sparse) careers. Young men such as David Moscow and Michael Goorjian and Luke Edwards.
Also, I like musicals. I just do. And perhaps what I like about the songs from this movie is, not only are they catchy and entertaining, but they're completely impossible to sing along to without affecting the extreme New York accent used in the film. Hee!! And also, when was the last time anyone used the term "piker"? Or told you that they were "one hifalutin' son-of-a-gun"? See? See what I mean?
In a related story, it looks like I'm going to have to get my iPod replaced. AGAIN. Bah! It's almost fascinating that my distrust and vague hatred of Apple products was actually justified and not just a trendy holdover mentality from the 90s.
Goddammit. When is my Harry Potter getting here?
This could be perhaps because I've been living with heat and a guinea pig in my room for the past week. And I have another week to go. And ... all sorts of stuff is going on, and I've been lately working 8:30 to 5. I hope I fix soon.
I've been rereading my favorite book, and I've reacquired some songs that I used to have from the musical "Newsies." I think I've mentioned in the past that I have a strange love for this movie. In general, I tend to enjoy movies about young men and their bonds of friendship. Typically, it's best if they're in a prep school of some kind, but it doesn't have to be. I've never really cared for movies about school girls bonding, though. I mean, they're all right, but usually all filled with commentaries on the trials of womanhood, and BFFs, and God. BORING.
Anyway, Newsies is one of those movies that I still enjoy, though in a far different way than when I first saw it. First of all, I don't think I'm still in love with Gabriel Damon, even though at the time he had all the sex appeal that an eight year old's brain could recognize. I am, however, still in love with Christian Bale. And this is where it started! Everyone else is a Christian Bale lovin' poser. Also, there are lots of other young men in the film who I've come to love from their later (sparse) careers. Young men such as David Moscow and Michael Goorjian and Luke Edwards.
Also, I like musicals. I just do. And perhaps what I like about the songs from this movie is, not only are they catchy and entertaining, but they're completely impossible to sing along to without affecting the extreme New York accent used in the film. Hee!! And also, when was the last time anyone used the term "piker"? Or told you that they were "one hifalutin' son-of-a-gun"? See? See what I mean?
In a related story, it looks like I'm going to have to get my iPod replaced. AGAIN. Bah! It's almost fascinating that my distrust and vague hatred of Apple products was actually justified and not just a trendy holdover mentality from the 90s.
Goddammit. When is my Harry Potter getting here?
Monday
Advantage: Lee.
So, I went to see Episode III again last night. Which, I suppose, more or less constitutes my review of the movie. I'd totally see it again, too.
The following relates not to the plot of the film, but only to the actors in it, which is why I shall be forgoing spoiler tags. Although you should probably know how it ends.
I noticed this the first time I saw it, but had more time to ponder it this go-around: Hayden Christiansen seems like he's pretty tall. And then Jimmy Smits shows up, and he looks like he's about nine feet tall. Holy crap! How tall is Jimmy Smits? Is he taller than Christopher Lee? Why have I never noticed that he was so tall?
According to the Internet Movie Database, Hayden Christiansen is 6'1". Oh. That's not that tall. Which I say because I know several gentlemen who are that tall. That's not that tall. Jimmy Smits, as it happens, is 6'3". That's pretty tall, but not as giant as he appears to be on-screen. Samuel L. Jackson is also 6'3". He didn't look that tall. All of them mere mortals compared to Mr. Lee.
Which then lead me to wonder, How short is Ewan MacGregor? Because when these men appeared so giant, they were usually standing next to him.
Ewan MacGregor is 5'10". That's not too tall.
Of course, lest my readership forget, all of my value judgments about height can be discreditted, because I am a midget.
The following relates not to the plot of the film, but only to the actors in it, which is why I shall be forgoing spoiler tags. Although you should probably know how it ends.
I noticed this the first time I saw it, but had more time to ponder it this go-around: Hayden Christiansen seems like he's pretty tall. And then Jimmy Smits shows up, and he looks like he's about nine feet tall. Holy crap! How tall is Jimmy Smits? Is he taller than Christopher Lee? Why have I never noticed that he was so tall?
According to the Internet Movie Database, Hayden Christiansen is 6'1". Oh. That's not that tall. Which I say because I know several gentlemen who are that tall. That's not that tall. Jimmy Smits, as it happens, is 6'3". That's pretty tall, but not as giant as he appears to be on-screen. Samuel L. Jackson is also 6'3". He didn't look that tall. All of them mere mortals compared to Mr. Lee.
Which then lead me to wonder, How short is Ewan MacGregor? Because when these men appeared so giant, they were usually standing next to him.
Ewan MacGregor is 5'10". That's not too tall.
Of course, lest my readership forget, all of my value judgments about height can be discreditted, because I am a midget.
Saturday
Thank you, L'Occitane!
Today my mother and I went to "The Mall at Short Hills." That place is snooty. We went there because they have a Tiffany's, and a friend of my mother has a son who is marrying a girl, and we bought them crystal candlesticks with which to start their joyous life together. I don't know.
I went because I discovered a gift card shoved in my drawer for $50 for Bloomingdales. As I may have mentioned before, I had something of a habit of getting money that is not cash (ie, checks or gift certificates) and then never doing anything with it. I found a gift check for $100 a while ago, but it had expired two years earlier. Ouch. ... Ouch.
Anyway, the Bloomingdales card, though it said "Merry Christmas" on it, did not have an expiration date. So, I figured, what the heck. Upon trying to use it, we discovered that it had, in fact, expired, but that it could be revived with a quick jaunt over to the "guest services" -- no problem. And this is why Bloomingdales is great.
Incidentally, there's something about the Buffy episode "Family" that has always bothered me. Buffy is talking about a sweater that she thought she'd like to get for Tara, but decided that she wanted it instead. The store she saw it in was Bloomingdales. I read the script for this episode, and discovered that the store referenced was originally Macy*s. Which makes a lot more sense. Because while I'm sure Buffy would much rather shop at "Bloomies" -- she had no freaking money. I mean, not that I do either, but. The hell, Miss Summers! The hell!
Anyway. This is how I purchased a skirt. It's green and linen and really pretty. And a size 6. So much for getting fatter! It's really pretty.
But this is not what's important. What's important is that in The Mall at Short Hills (hereafter "Short Hills Mall" or "the mall") there is a store that's like the Body Shop, only French. And that store is called L'Occitane. And in this store they were selling a fragrance.
Many years ago, my mother took me to the Body Shop. In the Body Shop, they have perfume oils. I tried magnolia. And it was very pretty, and I liked it very much, and it smelled nice on me. And I wanted to purchase it. I was told by my mother that we could get it the next time we came. The Next Time We Came, the fragrance had been discontinued. And it was never to be found again. This incident has become legend.
L'Occitane was selling magnolia perfume. I now own some. I am at peace.
I went because I discovered a gift card shoved in my drawer for $50 for Bloomingdales. As I may have mentioned before, I had something of a habit of getting money that is not cash (ie, checks or gift certificates) and then never doing anything with it. I found a gift check for $100 a while ago, but it had expired two years earlier. Ouch. ... Ouch.
Anyway, the Bloomingdales card, though it said "Merry Christmas" on it, did not have an expiration date. So, I figured, what the heck. Upon trying to use it, we discovered that it had, in fact, expired, but that it could be revived with a quick jaunt over to the "guest services" -- no problem. And this is why Bloomingdales is great.
Incidentally, there's something about the Buffy episode "Family" that has always bothered me. Buffy is talking about a sweater that she thought she'd like to get for Tara, but decided that she wanted it instead. The store she saw it in was Bloomingdales. I read the script for this episode, and discovered that the store referenced was originally Macy*s. Which makes a lot more sense. Because while I'm sure Buffy would much rather shop at "Bloomies" -- she had no freaking money. I mean, not that I do either, but. The hell, Miss Summers! The hell!
Anyway. This is how I purchased a skirt. It's green and linen and really pretty. And a size 6. So much for getting fatter! It's really pretty.
But this is not what's important. What's important is that in The Mall at Short Hills (hereafter "Short Hills Mall" or "the mall") there is a store that's like the Body Shop, only French. And that store is called L'Occitane. And in this store they were selling a fragrance.
Many years ago, my mother took me to the Body Shop. In the Body Shop, they have perfume oils. I tried magnolia. And it was very pretty, and I liked it very much, and it smelled nice on me. And I wanted to purchase it. I was told by my mother that we could get it the next time we came. The Next Time We Came, the fragrance had been discontinued. And it was never to be found again. This incident has become legend.
L'Occitane was selling magnolia perfume. I now own some. I am at peace.
Sunday
Happy Birthday, Batshit Insane!
Heh! Um. Not you Jess!
Apparently today is Tom Cruise's birthday. Hee! This is only entertaining because I saw War Of The Worlds this evening. It was pretty good! A-.
I've seen a whole heck of a lot of movies in a short span of time!
I saw Star Wars ! Finally! It was pretty good! B+.
I saw Land Of The Dead nbsp; ! It was pretty good! B+.
Oh, yeah, and I had that show thing. It was pretty good! A++!
But, you know. Not very many people showed up today. Possibley this has something to do with our nation's impending anniversary. Perhaps the run will be extended. That would be pretty great. I'll keep you posted.
Apparently today is Tom Cruise's birthday. Hee! This is only entertaining because I saw War Of The Worlds this evening. It was pretty good! A-.
I've seen a whole heck of a lot of movies in a short span of time!
I saw Star Wars ! Finally! It was pretty good! B+.
I saw Land Of The Dead nbsp; ! It was pretty good! B+.
Oh, yeah, and I had that show thing. It was pretty good! A++!
But, you know. Not very many people showed up today. Possibley this has something to do with our nation's impending anniversary. Perhaps the run will be extended. That would be pretty great. I'll keep you posted.
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