Have you ever struggled so long that you don't know how to NOT struggle? That's how I feel right now. Currently, life is pretty damn good. Of course nothing is ever perfect, but that's life and that's okay. And yet, I feel another shoe is about to drop at any moment. At any given time, some bearer of bad news is going to come along and say, "Oh hey, all that money you thought you had worked out? Yeah, no, that's not happening." or "That job you have now? HA! It's been eliminated! Pack your stuff and start over!"
I don't want to be whiner, this isn't a complaint. If anything, I'm frustrated with myself for not being able to just enjoy solvency.
I'm also sort of suffering a creative crisis. This is largely my own doing as I haven't been putting my creative talents to work in any productive way. And all those times writers and artists tell you to work at your craft every day wasn't just so they could hear themselves say it. It's true. If you don't do it, you lose it. So, use it! you say. And I agree. I could list for you the multitude of reasons I don't have enough time, but in reality they are all just excuses. If I love it, and I do, I should make time (less T.V., more writing, drawing, sewing ,etc.).
That being said, what eats my time (besides T.V.) are those important things that can improve the quality of my and my husband's life. You know, those pesky things like work and college. Writing is the big one for me. I want to do more of that. But it is a love that takes hours and forsakes all company if you want to get anywhere. Of course, Husband the Great would understand completely, but I actually like spending time with him, so it's more me stopping myself than him.
So, now, instead of worrying how we're going to get groceries this week, I worry about when or if I'll be able to expound upon these little idea sparks in my head that could lead to a story some day if I could just take the time to flesh them out. Even though I won't starve if I don't write a story, the feeling is the same and it makes me restless and cranky.
Thursday, August 6, 2015
Thursday, July 10, 2014
Familial Abuse.
Abuse is a scary word. People say it and everyone assumes someone is getting physically beaten. But it's can be so much more and worse than that. Sure, there's the beat down. However, there's also mental abuse.
There are several members of my family that are very good at the mental and emotional abuse. The best at it out of all of them is my Grandmother. She was awful to me my entire life. On vacations with her, all I can remember is being yelled at for one thing or another by her. One time, at Disney World no less, she yelled at me and my sister to "Stop having fun, dammit!!".
Her behavior has led me to avoid her at all costs. Even now, when she is in hospice and is likely to die, I will not be visiting. I will be sad when she goes because it will upset my mom greatly, but other than that, I'm disturbingly apathetic to her plight.
I have family members who have been passive aggressively throwing jabs and insults for years because they think that I think I am better than them. Granted, my mom raised me with confidence in myself and provided me with all the privileges she could afford, but never once have I ever insisted I was better than anyone. As a matter of fact, I go through most days thinking I'm a failure at one thing or another. So, when you have family that just can't wait to tear you down another notch, imagine how that compounds. When I was younger, I thought perhaps they were right, that I treated them as though I thought I was better than them, but then I got out in the world and have never had this issue with other human beings, so clearly, I must be doing something right.
Then I have family members that insist that because I'm young, I'm clearly clueless. So, every time there is a conflict and I present my argument logically, they first, don't hear a word I'm saying, then next, tell me to grow up, and finally, start threatening to tell anyone who'll listen every bad thing I did as a kid as if that will justify their point. I have learned that when something like this starts up, I have one chance to make my point and if that doesn't do it, there's no sense in continuing the conversation. They've stopped listening and I have been branded an asshole.
I have family members that are simply wonderful. I speak with them freely and do not have to worry if being excited about my accomplishments will offend them or if I have an opinion different than theirs that they can't argue their point calmly and logically or bully me until I either stop talking or just agree with them to make them stop.
What's really sad is that I can already predict how this entry will be received. I will be told that I'm wrong to feel this way and that I need to grow up. Or, surprisingly, someone will say it's not about me.
Isn't how I feel about me?
Why do we put up with people who don't like us just because there's a blood relation? I certainly don't put up with former friends who have treated me the way some of my family has. Ask around, I have completely cut people out of my life for acting the fool and jumping my case as a disproportionate reaction to a logical point I raised. I fear I am close to doing so again.
There are several members of my family that are very good at the mental and emotional abuse. The best at it out of all of them is my Grandmother. She was awful to me my entire life. On vacations with her, all I can remember is being yelled at for one thing or another by her. One time, at Disney World no less, she yelled at me and my sister to "Stop having fun, dammit!!".
Her behavior has led me to avoid her at all costs. Even now, when she is in hospice and is likely to die, I will not be visiting. I will be sad when she goes because it will upset my mom greatly, but other than that, I'm disturbingly apathetic to her plight.
I have family members who have been passive aggressively throwing jabs and insults for years because they think that I think I am better than them. Granted, my mom raised me with confidence in myself and provided me with all the privileges she could afford, but never once have I ever insisted I was better than anyone. As a matter of fact, I go through most days thinking I'm a failure at one thing or another. So, when you have family that just can't wait to tear you down another notch, imagine how that compounds. When I was younger, I thought perhaps they were right, that I treated them as though I thought I was better than them, but then I got out in the world and have never had this issue with other human beings, so clearly, I must be doing something right.
Then I have family members that insist that because I'm young, I'm clearly clueless. So, every time there is a conflict and I present my argument logically, they first, don't hear a word I'm saying, then next, tell me to grow up, and finally, start threatening to tell anyone who'll listen every bad thing I did as a kid as if that will justify their point. I have learned that when something like this starts up, I have one chance to make my point and if that doesn't do it, there's no sense in continuing the conversation. They've stopped listening and I have been branded an asshole.
I have family members that are simply wonderful. I speak with them freely and do not have to worry if being excited about my accomplishments will offend them or if I have an opinion different than theirs that they can't argue their point calmly and logically or bully me until I either stop talking or just agree with them to make them stop.
What's really sad is that I can already predict how this entry will be received. I will be told that I'm wrong to feel this way and that I need to grow up. Or, surprisingly, someone will say it's not about me.
Isn't how I feel about me?
Why do we put up with people who don't like us just because there's a blood relation? I certainly don't put up with former friends who have treated me the way some of my family has. Ask around, I have completely cut people out of my life for acting the fool and jumping my case as a disproportionate reaction to a logical point I raised. I fear I am close to doing so again.
Friday, May 24, 2013
The Wit Engine
I know, I've been gone forever. But I told you people when I started this up that I was fickle at best. And, there hasn't been a lot to report, not much that has inspired me to write at you. I could go into all the details of what has been killing my inspiration, but I'm in a great mood today so I refuse to be the Bringer of Misery and Woe.
I've been doing a bunch of writing. All of it fiction, all of it for fun. Mostly to entertain friends. It's been helping. Helping what? Well... everything really. I'm happier when I'm telling a story. I'm reminded why every single author you'll ever talk to says that if you want to write, you have to do it EVERY DAY. It doesn't matter what. It doesn't have to make sense. It doesn't have to be read ever again if you don't want it to. Just write.
And it's totally true. I've written something every day for the last... two weeks, and I can feel my brain revving up. I am quicker on the uptake. My witty comebacks are back (and wittier, at least, I think they are). I feel like I can have real conversations again. And I've been plotting non-stop. All for fiction, mind you. But as any of my writer buddies will tell you, I LOVE to plot. I love glorious, tasty drama.*
It makes me feel like I should have a go at writing something worth publishing, whether self-published or picked up by a publisher. Though, I'm leaning more towards writing up some ideas for maybe a web series or a TV pilot. I like to tell a story in 'scenes' anyway.
So, there you go, I'm still alive. Short and sweet. Though you'd think since I was just talking about being a writing fool that this post would be a hell of a lot longer. Ah well. Own worst critic and blah, blah, blah...
*Fictional drama only. Real life drama just makes me want to resign from the interwebs. Yes. Interwebs. Live with it.
I've been doing a bunch of writing. All of it fiction, all of it for fun. Mostly to entertain friends. It's been helping. Helping what? Well... everything really. I'm happier when I'm telling a story. I'm reminded why every single author you'll ever talk to says that if you want to write, you have to do it EVERY DAY. It doesn't matter what. It doesn't have to make sense. It doesn't have to be read ever again if you don't want it to. Just write.
And it's totally true. I've written something every day for the last... two weeks, and I can feel my brain revving up. I am quicker on the uptake. My witty comebacks are back (and wittier, at least, I think they are). I feel like I can have real conversations again. And I've been plotting non-stop. All for fiction, mind you. But as any of my writer buddies will tell you, I LOVE to plot. I love glorious, tasty drama.*
It makes me feel like I should have a go at writing something worth publishing, whether self-published or picked up by a publisher. Though, I'm leaning more towards writing up some ideas for maybe a web series or a TV pilot. I like to tell a story in 'scenes' anyway.
So, there you go, I'm still alive. Short and sweet. Though you'd think since I was just talking about being a writing fool that this post would be a hell of a lot longer. Ah well. Own worst critic and blah, blah, blah...
*Fictional drama only. Real life drama just makes me want to resign from the interwebs. Yes. Interwebs. Live with it.
Monday, November 19, 2012
Lending... aka "I'm never going to see that thing again".
Today I find myself making a list of items I have lent out to people that it would appear I am never going to see again. For years I had a strict policy of not lending anything I owned to anyone ever. And it would seem that I was right to do so.
What is it about people that makes them not return stuff? Is it forgetfulness? Spite? A subconscious need to take other people's toys that stems from childhood? I couldn't tell you. And don't think that I'm not guilty. I totally am. As I type this, I have a set of books that are not mine that are just gathering dust while I don't read them. But turn about is fair play I suppose. The people I borrowed them from have a set of my books that are no doubt doing the very same thing (Maybe, they are likely very much using those books at the moment). It's a mutual thieving at this point and we both know where the other lives. Hell, they have a key to my house. They could come get their stuff any time, just as I could do the same. But in that particular situation, I trust that they are taking care of my stuff and would give it back to me should I simply ask.
However, there are others. Others who begged me for the thing they borrowed and have had said thing for two years, maybe more. These same others also no longer have a day to day relationship with me. I haven't seen them in months. I've asked for my stuff back and haven't gotten it. It is extremely frustrating.
But what can I do? It is not as though I'm going to get a lawyer to make someone return a book. I suppose I could start naming names and inventory and defaming them on Facebook, but even this post feels a bit juvenile to me so I doubt I would go to that extreme.
So I suppose my only recourse would be to replace the items with new ones and tell myself that the things those people borrowed were not borrowed at all, but gifts given in a sort of aggressive style on the part of the giftee.
I assume that everyone else on the planet has this issue. Unless they are quite wise and a bit stingy and refuse to lend out their stuff. Ever. Which I think I will return to doing.
Some people would say "It's just stuff, it's not important", but really it is more than that. The act of ignoring a request to return someone's belongings denotes that you have no respect for that person and intend to just keep whatever it is you've borrowed. Which, for all intents and purposes is theft.
So yeah, that's my rant.
Gimmie back my stuff.
Except you people that I've mutually thieved with, you know who you are, you're cool.
What is it about people that makes them not return stuff? Is it forgetfulness? Spite? A subconscious need to take other people's toys that stems from childhood? I couldn't tell you. And don't think that I'm not guilty. I totally am. As I type this, I have a set of books that are not mine that are just gathering dust while I don't read them. But turn about is fair play I suppose. The people I borrowed them from have a set of my books that are no doubt doing the very same thing (Maybe, they are likely very much using those books at the moment). It's a mutual thieving at this point and we both know where the other lives. Hell, they have a key to my house. They could come get their stuff any time, just as I could do the same. But in that particular situation, I trust that they are taking care of my stuff and would give it back to me should I simply ask.
However, there are others. Others who begged me for the thing they borrowed and have had said thing for two years, maybe more. These same others also no longer have a day to day relationship with me. I haven't seen them in months. I've asked for my stuff back and haven't gotten it. It is extremely frustrating.
But what can I do? It is not as though I'm going to get a lawyer to make someone return a book. I suppose I could start naming names and inventory and defaming them on Facebook, but even this post feels a bit juvenile to me so I doubt I would go to that extreme.
So I suppose my only recourse would be to replace the items with new ones and tell myself that the things those people borrowed were not borrowed at all, but gifts given in a sort of aggressive style on the part of the giftee.
I assume that everyone else on the planet has this issue. Unless they are quite wise and a bit stingy and refuse to lend out their stuff. Ever. Which I think I will return to doing.
Some people would say "It's just stuff, it's not important", but really it is more than that. The act of ignoring a request to return someone's belongings denotes that you have no respect for that person and intend to just keep whatever it is you've borrowed. Which, for all intents and purposes is theft.
So yeah, that's my rant.
Gimmie back my stuff.
Except you people that I've mutually thieved with, you know who you are, you're cool.
Friday, September 14, 2012
The Art of the Playlist.
I am somewhat of an audiophile. I have a very large stash of music that moves me. Now, that does not mean that I have all the hits of today. Frankly, I'm a little disappointed in the vast majority of popular music these days. I like complicated, intricate composition that makes goosebumps appear on my skin or tears to well up in my eyes the music is that good. I feel like music should invoke an emotion when you hear it. If Bieber does that for you, more power to you, but then this post is probably not something you'll understand.
Witty lyrics are a big thing for me. Their lyrics made me an instant fan of Fall Out Boy and Panic at the Disco.
But what I really love is instrumental music. About half of the music I own is either classical or movie scores. It is the music in a movie or show that has a major hand in setting the tone. I would love to have a feature where I could turn off the music in the background of any move so I could demonstrate this point. I like that when I hear certain parts of music, my imagination just runs wild. It helps me tell stories. I am a storyteller after all, all be it, not a very successful one monetarily speaking.
The storyteller thing brings me to my quirks about playlists. I am NOT a fan of the shuffle. Especially when it comes to movie scores. They're in an order for a reason. Leave them that way. When I find myself making a list that goes with a story in my head or a tabletop RPG I'm playing in or, on the rare occasion, running, you will find me sitting at Titan (my desktop), pouring through music I know will fit the genre. Husband the Great gets it, but at the same time, does not understand how I can remember hundreds or pieces of music to know which ones will work and which ones won't. It's as simple as: Truly wonderful music sticks with you. Stuff that gets my attention always gets filed away in the back of my brain. I imagine this would be the mark of a good movie trailer producer.
Anyhow, here's how it works for me:
1. What genre are you going for?
There are some obvious ones like Star Wars where you already know there are plenty of songs for it. But it all depends on the mood you're going for. Something supposed to be scary? Look for haunting music that would make you sorry to venture into a dark room alone. Running a Superhero game? Go for the epic music full of horn section that makes you want to pose like superman. Try and think of movies or tv shows that make you think of the genre and see if you can't hunt down the music from it. I do a lot of hunting. I've even gotten into finding the music from trailer production companies.
2. Get a nice large selection
If you only have about 10 songs on your playlist, you will tire of it quickly.
3. Check for a good transition.
Once I've pulled all the music I think I'm going to use for the playlist, I put them in an order I think will go well, will tell its own story, and then I hit play. BUT, I only listen to the first 15 seconds of the start song before I fast forward to the last 20 seconds or so and listen as it rolls on into the next song on the list. If the transition is to jarring, I do some rearranging. This is the most time consuming part for me, and perhaps seems the most crazy to the outsider looking in. I started doing this because more than once I would be listing to just a pile of songs I knew I liked and I would be working along on whatever I was writing or talking about and then BAM, the next song was so off from the last one that I would lose concentration.
4. Stay away from shuffle or random.
Again, this is a little bit of the jarring transition thing in number three, but it also speaks to the idea that no computer or mp3 player has figured out that random does not mean play the same ten songs out of the entire play list over and over again in a random order. Once I find the device that will actually shuffle the songs and not play the same song over until every other song on the list has been play, then I will finally use the shuffle button.*
That's really all I have to say on it. And, this is all just my way of doing it. You're not wrong for doing it your way, this is just my insight for having done it quite a bit.
Though, if you're just getting into movie/tv scores, here are some of my favorite composers right now.
Bear McCreary - He composed everything for the re-imagined Battlestar Galactica, Human Target, The Walking Dead, The Cape, several video games, and I'm sure plenty of other stuff I can't think of.
Two Steps From Hell - They are a commercial music production company, they do a lot of the epic music you hear in movie trailers (fun little fact, most of the music you hear in the trailers for movies aren't actually in the movies at all). They only started selling to the public a few years ago, but they are amazing. You can find their stuff on Amazon.com
Hans Zimmer - Inception, the Nolan run of Batman movies, some of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies.
Danny Elfman - Excellent for anything haunting. Batman and Batman Returns. Just about anything Tim Burton puts his hands on.
John Williams - Star Wars, Indiana Jones, the first two Harry Potter films. He's a master, however, he can be quite repetitive.
Alexandre Desplat - The final two Harry Potter films.
And there are many, many more. As I said, half my collection is instrumental. Go forth and enjoy!
*I do use shuffle for my jukebox mixes. Like all 40's or 50's standards. That's about the only time I find it useful and I generally only listen to those lists when I'm cleaning house.
Witty lyrics are a big thing for me. Their lyrics made me an instant fan of Fall Out Boy and Panic at the Disco.
But what I really love is instrumental music. About half of the music I own is either classical or movie scores. It is the music in a movie or show that has a major hand in setting the tone. I would love to have a feature where I could turn off the music in the background of any move so I could demonstrate this point. I like that when I hear certain parts of music, my imagination just runs wild. It helps me tell stories. I am a storyteller after all, all be it, not a very successful one monetarily speaking.
The storyteller thing brings me to my quirks about playlists. I am NOT a fan of the shuffle. Especially when it comes to movie scores. They're in an order for a reason. Leave them that way. When I find myself making a list that goes with a story in my head or a tabletop RPG I'm playing in or, on the rare occasion, running, you will find me sitting at Titan (my desktop), pouring through music I know will fit the genre. Husband the Great gets it, but at the same time, does not understand how I can remember hundreds or pieces of music to know which ones will work and which ones won't. It's as simple as: Truly wonderful music sticks with you. Stuff that gets my attention always gets filed away in the back of my brain. I imagine this would be the mark of a good movie trailer producer.
Anyhow, here's how it works for me:
1. What genre are you going for?
There are some obvious ones like Star Wars where you already know there are plenty of songs for it. But it all depends on the mood you're going for. Something supposed to be scary? Look for haunting music that would make you sorry to venture into a dark room alone. Running a Superhero game? Go for the epic music full of horn section that makes you want to pose like superman. Try and think of movies or tv shows that make you think of the genre and see if you can't hunt down the music from it. I do a lot of hunting. I've even gotten into finding the music from trailer production companies.
2. Get a nice large selection
If you only have about 10 songs on your playlist, you will tire of it quickly.
3. Check for a good transition.
Once I've pulled all the music I think I'm going to use for the playlist, I put them in an order I think will go well, will tell its own story, and then I hit play. BUT, I only listen to the first 15 seconds of the start song before I fast forward to the last 20 seconds or so and listen as it rolls on into the next song on the list. If the transition is to jarring, I do some rearranging. This is the most time consuming part for me, and perhaps seems the most crazy to the outsider looking in. I started doing this because more than once I would be listing to just a pile of songs I knew I liked and I would be working along on whatever I was writing or talking about and then BAM, the next song was so off from the last one that I would lose concentration.
4. Stay away from shuffle or random.
Again, this is a little bit of the jarring transition thing in number three, but it also speaks to the idea that no computer or mp3 player has figured out that random does not mean play the same ten songs out of the entire play list over and over again in a random order. Once I find the device that will actually shuffle the songs and not play the same song over until every other song on the list has been play, then I will finally use the shuffle button.*
That's really all I have to say on it. And, this is all just my way of doing it. You're not wrong for doing it your way, this is just my insight for having done it quite a bit.
Though, if you're just getting into movie/tv scores, here are some of my favorite composers right now.
Bear McCreary - He composed everything for the re-imagined Battlestar Galactica, Human Target, The Walking Dead, The Cape, several video games, and I'm sure plenty of other stuff I can't think of.
Two Steps From Hell - They are a commercial music production company, they do a lot of the epic music you hear in movie trailers (fun little fact, most of the music you hear in the trailers for movies aren't actually in the movies at all). They only started selling to the public a few years ago, but they are amazing. You can find their stuff on Amazon.com
Hans Zimmer - Inception, the Nolan run of Batman movies, some of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies.
Danny Elfman - Excellent for anything haunting. Batman and Batman Returns. Just about anything Tim Burton puts his hands on.
John Williams - Star Wars, Indiana Jones, the first two Harry Potter films. He's a master, however, he can be quite repetitive.
Alexandre Desplat - The final two Harry Potter films.
And there are many, many more. As I said, half my collection is instrumental. Go forth and enjoy!
*I do use shuffle for my jukebox mixes. Like all 40's or 50's standards. That's about the only time I find it useful and I generally only listen to those lists when I'm cleaning house.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Isolation and Frustration
So, roughly three months ago, I was laid off from my job. This has lead to many interesting and not so interesting things. In the interesting column: I've started college. In the not-so-interesting: I don't go anywhere in an effort to spend less money. I'm receiving unemployment, but it is roughly $100 less a week than I was making. Which means we can't afford the gas to two cars driving about all week doing things. And since Joe has the job that makes the money, he gets to go places (mostly just work).
All this not going anywhere business is making me a little batty. And cranky. And a bit resentful of a great many things. I know this means that I'm still fairly wound up about being laid off even though my reviews had always been spectacular. I mean, come on, if you're gonna pretend to lay people off by way of eliminating their position, they least you could do is let go the people who didn't do their job well. Not to mention, you could wait a few months (not a few days) before listing my position on all the hiring sites. If you were eliminating it, why would you be hiring for it? A part of me thinks that I would have a solid case for wrongful termination.
And then, there's the valiant attempt at starting a business. Everyone who sees our stuff sure does like to look at it. But that's about it. I know none of this happens over night, and I keep telling myself just to keep at it. It's frustrating. And other influences outside of the business aren't helping. Like seeing work the equivalent of art projects I did in elementary school selling like hotcakes on Etsy. Or a lack of support. Or being talked down to by people who have no idea how to do what me and my partners are doing; as if they were experts.
I see slights where there are none. And I'm sort of turning into a hermit. Luckily, before I was laid off, we paid for a Disney trip. So, that will be nice. I'm very much looking forward to it. In the mean time, I know I just need to keep breathing, and everything will be just fine.
All this not going anywhere business is making me a little batty. And cranky. And a bit resentful of a great many things. I know this means that I'm still fairly wound up about being laid off even though my reviews had always been spectacular. I mean, come on, if you're gonna pretend to lay people off by way of eliminating their position, they least you could do is let go the people who didn't do their job well. Not to mention, you could wait a few months (not a few days) before listing my position on all the hiring sites. If you were eliminating it, why would you be hiring for it? A part of me thinks that I would have a solid case for wrongful termination.
And then, there's the valiant attempt at starting a business. Everyone who sees our stuff sure does like to look at it. But that's about it. I know none of this happens over night, and I keep telling myself just to keep at it. It's frustrating. And other influences outside of the business aren't helping. Like seeing work the equivalent of art projects I did in elementary school selling like hotcakes on Etsy. Or a lack of support. Or being talked down to by people who have no idea how to do what me and my partners are doing; as if they were experts.
I see slights where there are none. And I'm sort of turning into a hermit. Luckily, before I was laid off, we paid for a Disney trip. So, that will be nice. I'm very much looking forward to it. In the mean time, I know I just need to keep breathing, and everything will be just fine.
Friday, June 8, 2012
No Wrong Choices?
So, a bit over a month ago, I got laid off. To which I posted a somewhat cynical view of the corporate world. In all honesty, that view has not at all changed. It is a game I am playing to provide a good life for Husband the Great and myself. But, as is true with any situation in your life; there are steps you can take to make it better. There are good corporate situations. There are ways to improve your life.
After applying to handful of jobs, I quickly came to the conclusion that no one's going to consider me for a decent job without a college degree. (Irony on this comes later). So, I do some research and decide to enroll at Western Governor's University for HR Management. It's a work at my own pace sort of deal, which means, if I'm jobless for six months, I'm confident that I can have my bachelor's degree by the end of those six months. I know that sounds a bit impossible, or that perhaps this school isn't on the up and up, but anyone who knows me knows that it is very possible and I made sure this place was accredited.
As a result of this six month plan, I had resigned myself to living on unemployment for the next six months and busting my ass to get this degree so I could get a better paying, more fulfilling job. Queue the company that had just laid me off. A friend of mine in a different division of said company handed my resume to her boss and it resulted in an interview earlier this week. The job sounds engaging, the money sounds like it's going to be right. And I would have nothing to do with the boss that laid me off. So, while some might consider me insane for going back to this company a third time, I feel like it would be wholly irresponsible of me NOT to take it if I get the offer. But if I take the offer, that's going to slow down my plan for school considerably.
I don't want to bail on school again. But this job is the job I've been trying to maneuver into since day one at this company. I'm going to have no life for the forseeable future, but I'm oddly okay with that. I guess I'm just a little terrified that while it seems like there's no way for me to make a wrong choice, that I will somehow manage to do just that.
Friday, May 11, 2012
Simple Concepts in an Overly Complicated World
I am not overly fond of talking on the touchy subjects like politics, religion, education, etc. The reason for this is not that I don't have an opinion, I assure you, I do. The problem is, I will debate an issue to the end of time if I have knowledge of the subject, and unfortunately the few times I have spoken up, it has cost me friends (and in one case a few family members). I tend to not speak on things of which I have no information. And I do that because I do not like to look the fool, which is exactly what happens when one spits out whatever they want to win the day. And, as one of my very good and extremely logical friends recently said, the art of a good debate is dying a painful death. Name-calling used as smoke and mirrors is commonplace in any argument these days.
All that aside, I have some thoughts.
I am not Christian. I honestly couldn't tell you what I am. I feel that the religious texts of the world (the Christian bible, the Koran, the Torah, and so on) are not word for word true, but more along the lines of Aesop's Fables; meant for guidance, not strict rules by which all should be judged. I have wonderful friends who believe in God and put their faith in Him and I am happy that it makes them happy. I also know that these same friends would feel the same for me. As long as I'm happy, they're happy. What I dislike are those that would hide their personal fears and hatred behind their religion.
Marriage. What a highly debated concept. For me, it is incredibly simple. You wanna be married? Go right ahead. Doesn't matter who you are. Get married. Two consenting adults should be allowed to get married. No one's business but their own. You know who stands to lose by letting anyone and everyone getting married to whomever they want? Insurance companies. Maybe. Quiet a few will now allow you to claim a partner, married or not. Other than that, no one gets hurt. And if by some chance this good and caring God is actually offended by the thought of two men or two women getting married, He'll handle it. Not our job to regulate it.
Women's health choices. Simple. It's HER choice. We are one appallingly small step away from Margaret Atwood's "A Handmaid's Tale". If you have not read it, I recommend that you do. Might give you an insight into the future of women's rights in the United States. Which scares the hell out of me.
College and Financial Aid.
First, a little history. I do not have a degree. It was my choice not to attend college directly after high school because I just knew that I would not go the distance. A couple of years later, I was accepted to University of New Orleans. I even went to orientation. However, when I got home and did the FASFA application, I was still young enough that my Mother's income counted and thus, I qualified for nothing. So, I didn't go. About a year after that, I was old enough to be counted on my own and enrolled at ITT, only discover after one semester that ITT is kind of a joke. (I literally missed half of my classes and still had a 4.0) I did not return to ITT. I still feel to this day that college is a bit of a racket. Tuition prices are ridiculous, and the requirement credits to many degrees are needlessly packed with electives. Financial Aid is a bit of a joke, since they base your qualifications and need on previous year's taxes, not a real time assessment of your family income (i.e. I was employed last year, but currently I am not and without a degree it is unlikely I will be in the near future) It all leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
That being said, I'm being a total hypocrite and have applied to an online university. I do this because even though I have over a decade of work experience, employers don't care. They want to see a college degree on my resume. They don't even care what it's in. To me, this is requiring college for all the wrong reasons. One should go to college in search of higher learning. College should produce doctors, lawyers, scientists, engineers and true scholars; not masses of call center customer service reps only getting paid a few dollars an hour more than minimum wage. If that's what we're turning college into, might as well make it as required as high school. You can attend a public college for no more than book rental fees or you can pay for a private one, just like all the other levels of education. But then we get into the mental ramifications of forcing people to remain students until 22 years old. Though some might argue that the maturity level of an 18 year old ten years ago is likely the equivalent level of a 22 year old today.
So to review:
Marriage - Should be fair game for all
Women's Health - No one's business but her own
College and Financial Aid - Make it as available as public school since it is apparently becoming required for everyone.
Simple, right?
All that aside, I have some thoughts.
I am not Christian. I honestly couldn't tell you what I am. I feel that the religious texts of the world (the Christian bible, the Koran, the Torah, and so on) are not word for word true, but more along the lines of Aesop's Fables; meant for guidance, not strict rules by which all should be judged. I have wonderful friends who believe in God and put their faith in Him and I am happy that it makes them happy. I also know that these same friends would feel the same for me. As long as I'm happy, they're happy. What I dislike are those that would hide their personal fears and hatred behind their religion.
Marriage. What a highly debated concept. For me, it is incredibly simple. You wanna be married? Go right ahead. Doesn't matter who you are. Get married. Two consenting adults should be allowed to get married. No one's business but their own. You know who stands to lose by letting anyone and everyone getting married to whomever they want? Insurance companies. Maybe. Quiet a few will now allow you to claim a partner, married or not. Other than that, no one gets hurt. And if by some chance this good and caring God is actually offended by the thought of two men or two women getting married, He'll handle it. Not our job to regulate it.
Women's health choices. Simple. It's HER choice. We are one appallingly small step away from Margaret Atwood's "A Handmaid's Tale". If you have not read it, I recommend that you do. Might give you an insight into the future of women's rights in the United States. Which scares the hell out of me.
College and Financial Aid.
First, a little history. I do not have a degree. It was my choice not to attend college directly after high school because I just knew that I would not go the distance. A couple of years later, I was accepted to University of New Orleans. I even went to orientation. However, when I got home and did the FASFA application, I was still young enough that my Mother's income counted and thus, I qualified for nothing. So, I didn't go. About a year after that, I was old enough to be counted on my own and enrolled at ITT, only discover after one semester that ITT is kind of a joke. (I literally missed half of my classes and still had a 4.0) I did not return to ITT. I still feel to this day that college is a bit of a racket. Tuition prices are ridiculous, and the requirement credits to many degrees are needlessly packed with electives. Financial Aid is a bit of a joke, since they base your qualifications and need on previous year's taxes, not a real time assessment of your family income (i.e. I was employed last year, but currently I am not and without a degree it is unlikely I will be in the near future) It all leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
That being said, I'm being a total hypocrite and have applied to an online university. I do this because even though I have over a decade of work experience, employers don't care. They want to see a college degree on my resume. They don't even care what it's in. To me, this is requiring college for all the wrong reasons. One should go to college in search of higher learning. College should produce doctors, lawyers, scientists, engineers and true scholars; not masses of call center customer service reps only getting paid a few dollars an hour more than minimum wage. If that's what we're turning college into, might as well make it as required as high school. You can attend a public college for no more than book rental fees or you can pay for a private one, just like all the other levels of education. But then we get into the mental ramifications of forcing people to remain students until 22 years old. Though some might argue that the maturity level of an 18 year old ten years ago is likely the equivalent level of a 22 year old today.
So to review:
Marriage - Should be fair game for all
Women's Health - No one's business but her own
College and Financial Aid - Make it as available as public school since it is apparently becoming required for everyone.
Simple, right?
Monday, April 30, 2012
Corporate Loyalty.... and other Oxymoron.
It is absurdly early on a Monday morning. No, I am not up early to go to work. I have not been to bed yet. "Why, Toni, haven't you gone to bed on the eve of a Monday?" you ask. The simple answer to that is: Monday doesn't matter because I no longer have a job.
I'm not looking for sympathy. It was a rather downplayed affair for me really. It was eleven-ish in the morning last Thursday when one of the supervisors came and asked me to come talk to them for a moment. I stood, thinking this was no big deal, I'm always being pulled off to help for one thing or another. But then, as we're walking, and she takes me to an office, realization starts to sink in. When she opened the door and I see not only my absentee Boss, but my HR rep, my fears were confirmed; I was being let go.
I was not the only one to be let go, there were several. The official position was in the midst of restructure, my position was eliminated.
Before I go further, let me state that this the second time this company has "eliminated my position". I probably should have been smart and not come back to them in the first place. At least the first time, I had a couple of months notice that my job was going away and I had time to prepare. That was not the case last Thursday. I was, for all it felt, treated like a criminal. While the HR guy detailed out the separation package, another supervisor had brought my purse, keys, and the backpack I had bought to occasionally take my work laptop home to just outside the office. I was not allowed to go get the rest of my personal items from my desk. I turned in my corporate credit card, and I had to wait while they went back and retrieved my company cell phone from my desk. I was then shown out of the building.
I can't tell you how pissed I was that I couldn't hold it together until they couldn't see me anymore.
My Absentee Boss said he would like for me to call him so he can talk to me about his decision. My voice cracked as I told him it would be a few days before I would feel up to that. They also told me that I can arrange a time to come get the rest of my things outside of business hours. I understand the need to not cause an issue, but frankly, I have more class than that. You'd think after knowing me for nearly four years, they would have known that too. I plan to go this evening to go get my stuff.
In all honesty. I should have seen this coming. The atmosphere bred high school behavior, I wasn't popular in high school, and low and behold, I wasn't popular here. For the last few months, I've just been putting in my headphones and getting my job done and my hours in. Any hope I had of getting the supervisory or project manager positions the Absentee Boss had been promising me all these years had actually dwindled away about a year ago. I was miserable and angry that I was constantly asked to help others out, but was not allowed to ask for help myself. Despite what it may seem, I have limits, I know them, and I am unafraid to ask for help. I know the things I know because I asked someone to teach me. I wasn't born with all this stuff in my head.
But.. I didn't predict that I would be pushed out the door before some others. So, it kinda hit me hard. For about 12 hours. In that time, I drank tequila, did a bit of crying, then took a shower and a nap. Naps solve a lot for me, honestly. It's like a mood reset for me. After that first 12 hours, I decided it was a sign from the universe that I was wasting my time there.
Here are the things I would like to state for the record:
Nearly four years in one job was unheard of for me. I was ready to go the long haul with this company. So much so that I came back to them after being laid off once. I will never put my loyalty or trust in another boss or company (that isn't my own) ever again.
Working hard means nothing in corporate land. Neither does efficiency. Neither does knowing your shit. All that matters is that you know someone. Or that you can socialize with the best of them. Or you can have meltdowns of epic proportions so that they'll want to give you an easier time of it before you run screaming to HR.
Being dumb doesn't get you fired in corporate land. That just gets you shuffled around until you're doing something so easy there's no way you can screw it up. However, being smart doesn't get you anything but made fun of, ostracized, and then shown the door.
I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't go to work to make friends. I go to work to work. And I know all you corporate guys don't like to hear this, but I go to work to get a paycheck. I am NOT invested in the company. I do NOT view the company as one big happy family. I will NOT forsake my life for the company.
I have some time to find a job that will support us and not drive me insane. If I could, I would forsake working for anyone else ever again. But we are not quite financially ready for that. In the meantime, I'm going to write, make jewelry, sew, finish all the little projects in my house, read the STACK of books that have been piling up over the years. And once I have my belongings, I will not think on that job or those people ever again. They don't deserve my attention.
I'm not looking for sympathy. It was a rather downplayed affair for me really. It was eleven-ish in the morning last Thursday when one of the supervisors came and asked me to come talk to them for a moment. I stood, thinking this was no big deal, I'm always being pulled off to help for one thing or another. But then, as we're walking, and she takes me to an office, realization starts to sink in. When she opened the door and I see not only my absentee Boss, but my HR rep, my fears were confirmed; I was being let go.
I was not the only one to be let go, there were several. The official position was in the midst of restructure, my position was eliminated.
Before I go further, let me state that this the second time this company has "eliminated my position". I probably should have been smart and not come back to them in the first place. At least the first time, I had a couple of months notice that my job was going away and I had time to prepare. That was not the case last Thursday. I was, for all it felt, treated like a criminal. While the HR guy detailed out the separation package, another supervisor had brought my purse, keys, and the backpack I had bought to occasionally take my work laptop home to just outside the office. I was not allowed to go get the rest of my personal items from my desk. I turned in my corporate credit card, and I had to wait while they went back and retrieved my company cell phone from my desk. I was then shown out of the building.
I can't tell you how pissed I was that I couldn't hold it together until they couldn't see me anymore.
My Absentee Boss said he would like for me to call him so he can talk to me about his decision. My voice cracked as I told him it would be a few days before I would feel up to that. They also told me that I can arrange a time to come get the rest of my things outside of business hours. I understand the need to not cause an issue, but frankly, I have more class than that. You'd think after knowing me for nearly four years, they would have known that too. I plan to go this evening to go get my stuff.
In all honesty. I should have seen this coming. The atmosphere bred high school behavior, I wasn't popular in high school, and low and behold, I wasn't popular here. For the last few months, I've just been putting in my headphones and getting my job done and my hours in. Any hope I had of getting the supervisory or project manager positions the Absentee Boss had been promising me all these years had actually dwindled away about a year ago. I was miserable and angry that I was constantly asked to help others out, but was not allowed to ask for help myself. Despite what it may seem, I have limits, I know them, and I am unafraid to ask for help. I know the things I know because I asked someone to teach me. I wasn't born with all this stuff in my head.
But.. I didn't predict that I would be pushed out the door before some others. So, it kinda hit me hard. For about 12 hours. In that time, I drank tequila, did a bit of crying, then took a shower and a nap. Naps solve a lot for me, honestly. It's like a mood reset for me. After that first 12 hours, I decided it was a sign from the universe that I was wasting my time there.
Here are the things I would like to state for the record:
Nearly four years in one job was unheard of for me. I was ready to go the long haul with this company. So much so that I came back to them after being laid off once. I will never put my loyalty or trust in another boss or company (that isn't my own) ever again.
Working hard means nothing in corporate land. Neither does efficiency. Neither does knowing your shit. All that matters is that you know someone. Or that you can socialize with the best of them. Or you can have meltdowns of epic proportions so that they'll want to give you an easier time of it before you run screaming to HR.
Being dumb doesn't get you fired in corporate land. That just gets you shuffled around until you're doing something so easy there's no way you can screw it up. However, being smart doesn't get you anything but made fun of, ostracized, and then shown the door.
I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't go to work to make friends. I go to work to work. And I know all you corporate guys don't like to hear this, but I go to work to get a paycheck. I am NOT invested in the company. I do NOT view the company as one big happy family. I will NOT forsake my life for the company.
I have some time to find a job that will support us and not drive me insane. If I could, I would forsake working for anyone else ever again. But we are not quite financially ready for that. In the meantime, I'm going to write, make jewelry, sew, finish all the little projects in my house, read the STACK of books that have been piling up over the years. And once I have my belongings, I will not think on that job or those people ever again. They don't deserve my attention.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Wait, What Was I Doing Again?
One of the reasons I don't write on here often is that I have too many ways to entertain myself away from the computer. I have a day job (while not entertaining most of the time, quite time consuming). I am working with several people to start a new business (very entertaining, but easily the second biggest time suck I have). I have a pile books I want to read. I have at least three solid story ideas I'm tinkering on from time to time. I have a DVR full of pretty good TV to catch up on. We recently bought the first three seasons of The Clone Wars on blu-ray. My cat(s) demanded my attention, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
The business, while I will not normally bring it up here because that is not what this blog is for, is getting going with a weird rhythm. I wouldn't call it speed, I wouldn't call it standing still. But we're chugging along. The ideas in my head are flying so fast I forget some of them before I can write them down. I've drawn three new outfit designs. I have a pile of jewelry projects lined up. I wish I had the money to hire minions, but we're not there yet. Ah, the adventures of starting a small business.
On the funny side, we have purchased one male mannequin and two french dress forms for display purposes. We call the mannequin No Face Charlie, I hope my average reader is smart enough to figure that one out. And the dress forms are called the OohLaLa Girls. There is also my mother's adjustable dress form which has been dubbed Madame Antoinette (I believe it is because we have padded it to my measurements. No, my name is not Antoinette. It's just Toni. Please refer back to my very first post about names). I'm not sure why I felt the need to name them, but it is what it is and now I'm trying to think of ways to scare Husband the Great with them when he least expects it.
The stories are really exploding in my head. I've been plugging along on one that is sheer entertainment value because it takes place in someone else's well-established world. But it was there and I wanted to write it, so there it is. The other two, I'm constantly writing little notes to myself about things that need to happen or bits of a character's past that no one other than myself (and in the case of one story my collaborator Megan of Who's the Minion Here? ) will ever know.
The bonus of being this busy is that I'm so creatively happy that it does not matter what happens at my Day Job. Even that is going really well I think. However, I've never been good at reading the corporate temperature, so for all I know I could have no day job next week.
But while all this creativity is good, it also gives me the attention span of a peanut. Like just now, I was typing this journal entry, my cat meowed at me and I noticed an unfinished canvas in my studio closet that I started studying intensely for about five minutes while I decided what I needed to do to finish it and what I would do with it once it was done. And I could be in the middle of making a pair of earrings and I will just stop and pick up a string of beads that have no purpose yet and start planning a purpose for them. I have to get a bit more discipline if I'm going to get the amount of stuff done I want to get done.
However now is not the time. Husband the Great will be home soon, with food, and I will stop to eat that. I'm a big girl. Food wins. I'm not too proud to admit it. Oh wait, maybe if I had the same discipline for getting work done as I do for eating meals, I would rule the world. Yes. Eat more. Get discipline. Rule the World. Now I just need Han Solo in carbonite. Someone make that happen.
The business, while I will not normally bring it up here because that is not what this blog is for, is getting going with a weird rhythm. I wouldn't call it speed, I wouldn't call it standing still. But we're chugging along. The ideas in my head are flying so fast I forget some of them before I can write them down. I've drawn three new outfit designs. I have a pile of jewelry projects lined up. I wish I had the money to hire minions, but we're not there yet. Ah, the adventures of starting a small business.
On the funny side, we have purchased one male mannequin and two french dress forms for display purposes. We call the mannequin No Face Charlie, I hope my average reader is smart enough to figure that one out. And the dress forms are called the OohLaLa Girls. There is also my mother's adjustable dress form which has been dubbed Madame Antoinette (I believe it is because we have padded it to my measurements. No, my name is not Antoinette. It's just Toni. Please refer back to my very first post about names). I'm not sure why I felt the need to name them, but it is what it is and now I'm trying to think of ways to scare Husband the Great with them when he least expects it.
The stories are really exploding in my head. I've been plugging along on one that is sheer entertainment value because it takes place in someone else's well-established world. But it was there and I wanted to write it, so there it is. The other two, I'm constantly writing little notes to myself about things that need to happen or bits of a character's past that no one other than myself (and in the case of one story my collaborator Megan of Who's the Minion Here? ) will ever know.
The bonus of being this busy is that I'm so creatively happy that it does not matter what happens at my Day Job. Even that is going really well I think. However, I've never been good at reading the corporate temperature, so for all I know I could have no day job next week.
But while all this creativity is good, it also gives me the attention span of a peanut. Like just now, I was typing this journal entry, my cat meowed at me and I noticed an unfinished canvas in my studio closet that I started studying intensely for about five minutes while I decided what I needed to do to finish it and what I would do with it once it was done. And I could be in the middle of making a pair of earrings and I will just stop and pick up a string of beads that have no purpose yet and start planning a purpose for them. I have to get a bit more discipline if I'm going to get the amount of stuff done I want to get done.
However now is not the time. Husband the Great will be home soon, with food, and I will stop to eat that. I'm a big girl. Food wins. I'm not too proud to admit it. Oh wait, maybe if I had the same discipline for getting work done as I do for eating meals, I would rule the world. Yes. Eat more. Get discipline. Rule the World. Now I just need Han Solo in carbonite. Someone make that happen.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
The End of an Era
As a fickle story teller, it occurred to me that when I actually get around to posting something to this blog, it should probably be something worth reading. I assume there's no need to go over the warning I gave in my very first post.... again.
My childhood was filled with going to my parents many activities. This included, but was not limited to bowling, golfing, family cook outs, poker games and Dad's bar band gigs (yes, in a bar, it was a different time then and frankly, it gave me a healthy appreciation for drinking in moderation). Most of the time, these activities were with my dad's five siblings; Ronnie, Doug, Clovie (CJ), Tovie and Patsy. There was a time in my life that I just assumed I was related to every new person I met. All my friends were also my cousins. I think the only ones that weren't were Twyla and the Batiato girls. Every adult I knew had "Aunt" or "Uncle" before their name. The Grow boys were infamous on the south side of Indianapolis. Over the years they've owned a few different bars, all of them were Free Masons, it was odd to be cool in the 70's and 80's in Indy (setting aside the handicaps of it being the 70's, 80's and in Indy) and NOT know the Grow family. My sister and I used to tell our school friends that they were the Indy Mafia. They knew people, they had connections.
I see movies like Casino and mash it up with the bowling alley scenes of Pleasantville and somehow that's how I've always viewed the Grow side of family. (Though I should note that if my Dad and Uncles were 'whacking' people, I never heard about it nor saw any evidence.) But I do have this great picture of the lot of them with Frank Sinatra (save Patsy), signed by the man himself.
There were all kind of ladies' men as well. For one, my Dad was married five times, I am the youngest of seven siblings, only two of which are whole siblings, not half (My oldest half-brother, Richard, is two years younger than my mother). Patsy I think is the only one who wasn't married multiple times.
Ronnie was the first of the bunch to pass away. He was also the smallest. I would show you a picture, but I don't need to, go google Notre Dame's mascot. He looked exactly like that. He's been gone since I was 11 or so, unfortunately, I remember very little of him at this point other than he liked to shove his bottom dentures out of his mouth to scare the crap out of us kids. And his last wife, Betty, I was not a big fan of and last I checked, she never put a tombstone on Ronnie's grave.
The next, and of course the most shocking for me, was my dad, Harvey. It was sudden and hit my sister and I like a ton of bricks. My dad was like the PR guy of the Grow Boys. Everybody loved him (even if they wouldn't stay married to him). He was the one who organized the annual family reunion. After he was gone, I know it went on for at least one more year (because I actually attended), but who knows after that.
Here is where I lose contact with that side of the family. By the time of my high school graduation (two years later), not a one of them attended and only two even sent a card. Sad to say, I'm the type of person who holds a grudge, and have fairly well done so over the years.
Dougie was next, and arguably, my favorite of my dad's siblings. I went to his viewing and took my then boyfriend (now Husband the Great) with me. This was the first time Joe had met this side of my family and all he could say was "These guys are humongous." (Speaking of CJ and Tovie, which they were, they were huge. This is especially funny when you realize that the only family of mine that Joe has met is my mom's family and we're all fairly short save my sister, my cousin David, my Aunt Diane and cousin Danielle). Dougie was simply hilarious, very quick witted, tall and lanky, my sister and I were very close with Jessica and Brandy, his girls. (they might have been step-daughters, but I never really wondered nor cared, they'd been there for as long as I could remember and so it didn't matter).
Tovie went next, and I'd heard nothing of it. Tovie was just cool. He'd spent some years as a body guard at Caesar's Palace in Las Vegas, was body guard for Sinatra (that's how they ended up with the picture) and when he was in town, he was always nice to my and my sister. I'm not even sure how he died.
Then Patsy, which was only three or four months ago. She was the glue that held the boys together. She was a matriarch and her house was always one of my favorite places to visit. She had excellent taste and had this really cool rec room complete with a Ms. Pac Man arcade console. I'm sorry I missed her funeral, but I only found out about her death perhaps a month ago.
Then finally, CJ. CJ was the smooth-talker. He was the wheeler and dealer. Growing up, I was always sure he was working some sort of angle. But that didn't stop him from being awesome. As I said, I'd pretty much lost touch with my dad's side of the family after he died. But since my mom was still friends with some of the people they were all friends with, we kept running into CJ over the last few years. And I was simply shocked at the change in him. It was good change. It was the same kind of change my dad went through when he finally realized that my sister and I weren't going to just ignore him after he divorced my mom. I was glad to see it. I was glad his current and final wife Joyce was able to inspire that change in him.
So, at his viewing yesterday, I got to meet a cousin I never knew I had, as she was born after the last time we'd spent any real time at all with him. The viewing was bittersweet, to say the least. I saw people I haven't seen in fifteen years. And all we could talk about was how an era had ended now that all six siblings were gone. I assume the five boys have the best bowling team of the afterlife now and Patsy will be there to keep them from getting kicked out.
My childhood was filled with going to my parents many activities. This included, but was not limited to bowling, golfing, family cook outs, poker games and Dad's bar band gigs (yes, in a bar, it was a different time then and frankly, it gave me a healthy appreciation for drinking in moderation). Most of the time, these activities were with my dad's five siblings; Ronnie, Doug, Clovie (CJ), Tovie and Patsy. There was a time in my life that I just assumed I was related to every new person I met. All my friends were also my cousins. I think the only ones that weren't were Twyla and the Batiato girls. Every adult I knew had "Aunt" or "Uncle" before their name. The Grow boys were infamous on the south side of Indianapolis. Over the years they've owned a few different bars, all of them were Free Masons, it was odd to be cool in the 70's and 80's in Indy (setting aside the handicaps of it being the 70's, 80's and in Indy) and NOT know the Grow family. My sister and I used to tell our school friends that they were the Indy Mafia. They knew people, they had connections.
I see movies like Casino and mash it up with the bowling alley scenes of Pleasantville and somehow that's how I've always viewed the Grow side of family. (Though I should note that if my Dad and Uncles were 'whacking' people, I never heard about it nor saw any evidence.) But I do have this great picture of the lot of them with Frank Sinatra (save Patsy), signed by the man himself.
There were all kind of ladies' men as well. For one, my Dad was married five times, I am the youngest of seven siblings, only two of which are whole siblings, not half (My oldest half-brother, Richard, is two years younger than my mother). Patsy I think is the only one who wasn't married multiple times.
Ronnie was the first of the bunch to pass away. He was also the smallest. I would show you a picture, but I don't need to, go google Notre Dame's mascot. He looked exactly like that. He's been gone since I was 11 or so, unfortunately, I remember very little of him at this point other than he liked to shove his bottom dentures out of his mouth to scare the crap out of us kids. And his last wife, Betty, I was not a big fan of and last I checked, she never put a tombstone on Ronnie's grave.
The next, and of course the most shocking for me, was my dad, Harvey. It was sudden and hit my sister and I like a ton of bricks. My dad was like the PR guy of the Grow Boys. Everybody loved him (even if they wouldn't stay married to him). He was the one who organized the annual family reunion. After he was gone, I know it went on for at least one more year (because I actually attended), but who knows after that.
Here is where I lose contact with that side of the family. By the time of my high school graduation (two years later), not a one of them attended and only two even sent a card. Sad to say, I'm the type of person who holds a grudge, and have fairly well done so over the years.
Dougie was next, and arguably, my favorite of my dad's siblings. I went to his viewing and took my then boyfriend (now Husband the Great) with me. This was the first time Joe had met this side of my family and all he could say was "These guys are humongous." (Speaking of CJ and Tovie, which they were, they were huge. This is especially funny when you realize that the only family of mine that Joe has met is my mom's family and we're all fairly short save my sister, my cousin David, my Aunt Diane and cousin Danielle). Dougie was simply hilarious, very quick witted, tall and lanky, my sister and I were very close with Jessica and Brandy, his girls. (they might have been step-daughters, but I never really wondered nor cared, they'd been there for as long as I could remember and so it didn't matter).
Tovie went next, and I'd heard nothing of it. Tovie was just cool. He'd spent some years as a body guard at Caesar's Palace in Las Vegas, was body guard for Sinatra (that's how they ended up with the picture) and when he was in town, he was always nice to my and my sister. I'm not even sure how he died.
Then Patsy, which was only three or four months ago. She was the glue that held the boys together. She was a matriarch and her house was always one of my favorite places to visit. She had excellent taste and had this really cool rec room complete with a Ms. Pac Man arcade console. I'm sorry I missed her funeral, but I only found out about her death perhaps a month ago.
Then finally, CJ. CJ was the smooth-talker. He was the wheeler and dealer. Growing up, I was always sure he was working some sort of angle. But that didn't stop him from being awesome. As I said, I'd pretty much lost touch with my dad's side of the family after he died. But since my mom was still friends with some of the people they were all friends with, we kept running into CJ over the last few years. And I was simply shocked at the change in him. It was good change. It was the same kind of change my dad went through when he finally realized that my sister and I weren't going to just ignore him after he divorced my mom. I was glad to see it. I was glad his current and final wife Joyce was able to inspire that change in him.
So, at his viewing yesterday, I got to meet a cousin I never knew I had, as she was born after the last time we'd spent any real time at all with him. The viewing was bittersweet, to say the least. I saw people I haven't seen in fifteen years. And all we could talk about was how an era had ended now that all six siblings were gone. I assume the five boys have the best bowling team of the afterlife now and Patsy will be there to keep them from getting kicked out.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
The Upswing
I would say that creativity comes to me in waves. It is always there, bubbling under the surface, but it certainly boils over in inconsistent intervals. As is evident of being absent from posting here in nearly a month. I told you I was no good at frequency; you were warned.
This time of year, there are plenty of reasons to be disconnected from the interweb-world. Holidays, end of the business fiscal year, but really, no offense to anyone I solely speak with via internet, but I just didn't want to be here. I've been reading, doing a little bit of writing (with a pen, in a notebook), baking, catching up on TV I ignored all of Thanksgiving week and and end of month week at work (which was last week), shopping (it is shopping season after all) and generally being busy around the house.
Let us see. Adventures in real life. I had a pack of small children in my house for the first time two Saturdays ago. I think it went well. I had paper and crayons. And cats. Cats are nearly always a win with little kids. Fortunately, I have brilliant friends, and their children were raised right, so I was not at all worried about what sort of hi jinks they might get themselves into. As a matter a fact, I think my house ended up cleaner after they left than when they arrived. Well, mostly, I did find a few cheez-its squirreled away in a corner of the living room and a single french fry on the top of my wing-backed chair. But over all, these children were better house guests than the group of grown men that used to frequent my house every weekend all weekend. So, there is hope for the future.
I've been organizing. My spare room had to be made functional for the Pack, so we had to get creative with storing things. Mostly due to the bazillion or so Magic: The Gathering cards in boxes. We love to play (we even taught my 59 year old mother to play and she whups us almost every time. I've learned to show no mercy.), but I honestly don't know what we were thinking when we continued to buy all these cards. We'll never play enough games to use them all (I certainly don't have the patience to make enough decks out of them to play them all), and most of the cards are too old for official tournament use. So, I'm not sure what to do with them all, other than find some cool art thing to do with them. This just goes to show that even Husband the Great can fall victim to impulse shopping.
I've gotten a bit rambly, haven't I? I was talking about creative waves. I'm back in the upswing I think. I have a few jewelry things to do, I want try some neat photography tricks, and there is more baking to do before the end of the year. So, again, it could be a while before you hear from me.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Privilege and Good Graces
Today, I am not feeling nice. I was woken up exceptionally early by unfamiliar sounds and could not get back to sleep. This set the tone for my entire day. I am not in any way a morning person, unless you count those days where I just have not been to sleep yet. I am a night owl and despite being stuffed into a corporate job that requires mornings, I have never adjusted. But this post isn't about my inability to greet the early morning without wanting to kill it, this is just explaining why I am Cranky McCrankyPants today.
What I really want to talk about is people with privilege and how ridiculous they sound when the world just doesn't fall into place for them or give them exactly what they want when they want it. I feel I have every right to talk about this and point fingers because I will absolutely be pointing three right back to myself. When I was growing up, for the most part, if I wanted it and it wasn't just absurd (buy me that $300 toy that will break in a month), I got it. My mother loves to buy presents. She loves to see a person's face light up when she gives them just the thing they were looking for. But, as parents are known to say, she was not the bank of Mom when I became an adult. Plain and simple, she could not afford to keep bailing me out when I was the one spending all my money. Now, she has saved me in DIRE times of need. Like my brakes have failed and have to be replaced, or co-signing on a loan to pay off credit card debit. But it wasn't just a handout, I always had to pay her back. Always.
I have some friends who their parents always help them out. Stove's broken? No problem, we'll get you a new one and call it a birthday present (they still got birthday presents when their birthday rolled around). About to miss a car payment cause you didn't balance your checkbook? Here you go, just don't do it again. (they did it again, multiple times). In one case, they got a free house. A whole house. (Not the best house or the best neighborhood, but the square footage is good and there's a lot of potential. And I should mention that they cared for their ailing Grandmother who owned it until she passed, so it wasn't entirely unwarranted.)
In all honesty, I'm not opposed to my friends having the privilege of parents who will take care of all the lifestyle cramping expenses. If their parents want to do that for them and never make them face the reality that one day their parents will be gone and they will have to handle their grown up lives all on their own, more power to them. What I am opposed to is these friends not having the good graces not to constantly talk about it. Yes, it makes me feel absolutely wonderful when you tell me (about five times in less than an hour) that your parents are going to drop $300 on a new iPhone 4s 32gig for you for Christmas. No, it doesn't bother me in the least (for those of you who are terrible at working out the inflection of one's writing versus one's speaking, this is sarcasm). Of course, I would love to listen to you bitch and moan and sigh about how there are no iPhone 4s' to be found and how you won't have it right this second. And no, I don't feel at all guilty when your apparently extremely fragile feelings are hurt when I tell you that your over-privileged whining is doing nothing to improve my horrid mood (this part is sarcasm free).
These are the same friends that don't understand making a choice between bills or food. Don't get me wrong, neither did I. But then I graduated high school and put on my big girl panties. Now, don't read too much into that, I have never been in danger of starving (I'm a pudgy little thing). My mother would always feed me if I needed it. And she would house me if I needed it. Simply put: I'm an adult and DON'T WANT HER TO.
So, those of you who still get whatever you want by pointing at it and saying "Mom, Dad, buy me that", I'm not saying you have to change your ways, I'm saying you don't have to tell me about it.
What I really want to talk about is people with privilege and how ridiculous they sound when the world just doesn't fall into place for them or give them exactly what they want when they want it. I feel I have every right to talk about this and point fingers because I will absolutely be pointing three right back to myself. When I was growing up, for the most part, if I wanted it and it wasn't just absurd (buy me that $300 toy that will break in a month), I got it. My mother loves to buy presents. She loves to see a person's face light up when she gives them just the thing they were looking for. But, as parents are known to say, she was not the bank of Mom when I became an adult. Plain and simple, she could not afford to keep bailing me out when I was the one spending all my money. Now, she has saved me in DIRE times of need. Like my brakes have failed and have to be replaced, or co-signing on a loan to pay off credit card debit. But it wasn't just a handout, I always had to pay her back. Always.
I have some friends who their parents always help them out. Stove's broken? No problem, we'll get you a new one and call it a birthday present (they still got birthday presents when their birthday rolled around). About to miss a car payment cause you didn't balance your checkbook? Here you go, just don't do it again. (they did it again, multiple times). In one case, they got a free house. A whole house. (Not the best house or the best neighborhood, but the square footage is good and there's a lot of potential. And I should mention that they cared for their ailing Grandmother who owned it until she passed, so it wasn't entirely unwarranted.)
In all honesty, I'm not opposed to my friends having the privilege of parents who will take care of all the lifestyle cramping expenses. If their parents want to do that for them and never make them face the reality that one day their parents will be gone and they will have to handle their grown up lives all on their own, more power to them. What I am opposed to is these friends not having the good graces not to constantly talk about it. Yes, it makes me feel absolutely wonderful when you tell me (about five times in less than an hour) that your parents are going to drop $300 on a new iPhone 4s 32gig for you for Christmas. No, it doesn't bother me in the least (for those of you who are terrible at working out the inflection of one's writing versus one's speaking, this is sarcasm). Of course, I would love to listen to you bitch and moan and sigh about how there are no iPhone 4s' to be found and how you won't have it right this second. And no, I don't feel at all guilty when your apparently extremely fragile feelings are hurt when I tell you that your over-privileged whining is doing nothing to improve my horrid mood (this part is sarcasm free).
These are the same friends that don't understand making a choice between bills or food. Don't get me wrong, neither did I. But then I graduated high school and put on my big girl panties. Now, don't read too much into that, I have never been in danger of starving (I'm a pudgy little thing). My mother would always feed me if I needed it. And she would house me if I needed it. Simply put: I'm an adult and DON'T WANT HER TO.
So, those of you who still get whatever you want by pointing at it and saying "Mom, Dad, buy me that", I'm not saying you have to change your ways, I'm saying you don't have to tell me about it.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Why mess with a good thing?
Today I would like to talk about some movie adaptations that strayed so far from the book it's interesting how they justified it keeping the same title (well, really only one, the other two are still pretty close). Like I said before, I can enjoy a movie exactly for it's entertainment value, no more, no less. But there are some books I have read and loved so dearly that I was fairly disappointed at Hollywood's interpretation. However, there are ways Hollywood did some a bit of justice. I'm going to give you a few examples and you can decide if you think Hollywood did right or wrong.
JUST AS A WARNING THERE WILL BE SPOILERS AFOOT!
We'll start with Thomas Harris' "Hannibal". I have been fascinated by Hannibal Lecter since seeing "Silence of the Lambs" when I was a kid. I know, not a kid movie, but my parents were pretty liberal about what I watched since they knew I could handle it. So, I was pleased as punch when I found out they were making a movie that focused on everyone's favorite cannibal. And I saw the movie, I enjoyed it greatly. And while no, it no longer had the wonderful Jodi Foster, I felt Julianne Moore was an excellent replacement.
((UNLIKE the switcheroo they did with Rachel Weisz and Maria Bello for the last Mummy installment. I love Maria Bello, but she ain't no Evey. However, I digress))
So, I saw the movie and liked it, but the character still fascinated me, so I went and got myself the book. I tore through it, finding I greatly enjoy Thomas Harris' writing style. Only, I got to the end and found out that Clarice Starling ends up running away with Hannibal and becomes a cannibal as well. What an excellent ending! It was such an amazing testament to the level of head game Hannibal Lecter could play that I was very sad that they did not use this in the movie. He basically had managed to convince Clarice that her career was over and that no one understood her or loved her like he did. It was glorious. With all the shock value of the story, it seems a shame that Hollywood was too chicken to have Clarice fall to the dark side.
Then, there's "Blood and Chocolate" by Annette Curtis Klause. In the movie, the main character, who is a version of werewolf that literally turns into a wolf at will finds herself falling in love with a normal human man, but she is being pursued by their pack leader to be his next mate. As you can surmise, all hell breaks loose when said human kills the pack leader's son (who know about the romance and was trying to scare off the stupid human). When the human finds out what she is, he at first freaks out, but then decides he can work around it and still love her. Well, in the end, the heroine kills the pack leader and runs off with her shiny new human to live happily ever after.
I'd read the book long before the movie had come out and I was heavily anticipating the movie. I was very disappointed with the movie version. In the book, the main character still finds herself falling in love with a human and she is still being pursued, and when she does the big reveal to her human, he still freaks out, only in the book, he stays freaked out. And I can't remember if it's him or other humans that were hunting them, but someone shoots or stabs her with silver and she gets stuck in the half-human-half-wolf form and it is the unconditional love of the wolf that pursued her that helps her regain her two separate forms and she realizes that she was a fool to try and deny her nature all along. It was much more satisfying to me.
The last I'll leave you with is "The Other Boleyn Girl" by Philippa Gregory. The movie, well, if you've read the book, and you know your Tudor history, it's a bit of a train wreck. Yes, Natalie Portman and Scarlett Johanneson are breath-taking and were good casting. But really, if I wanted to watch "Anne of the Thousand Days" that's precisely what I would do. "The Other Boleyn Girl" is about Mary, it follows Mary, you get insight into the disaster of Anne's treachery to become queen from Mary's point of view. You get to see that Henry was a good man driven to madness by horrid advice and the need to provide a male heir. You get to see Mary carve her own path even if it is one that no one likes. I liked reading Mary's version of events. You get none of that from the movie. So disappointing was this movie that I rank it below Showtime's "The Tudors" (which I ended up watching all the way through even as I wanted to throw things at the screen at times).
I could go on and on and try to figure out why Hollywood does the things that it does. But I did just mention in my last post that some people take movies too seriously, so I'm trying to just note the differences. And I should mention that I own the movies of "Hannibal" and "Blood and Chocolate" and I enjoy them thoroughly every time I watch them because despite the glaring differences, by themselves, they are good movies.
So, how about you Random Reader? Do you have any examples to share?
JUST AS A WARNING THERE WILL BE SPOILERS AFOOT!
We'll start with Thomas Harris' "Hannibal". I have been fascinated by Hannibal Lecter since seeing "Silence of the Lambs" when I was a kid. I know, not a kid movie, but my parents were pretty liberal about what I watched since they knew I could handle it. So, I was pleased as punch when I found out they were making a movie that focused on everyone's favorite cannibal. And I saw the movie, I enjoyed it greatly. And while no, it no longer had the wonderful Jodi Foster, I felt Julianne Moore was an excellent replacement.
((UNLIKE the switcheroo they did with Rachel Weisz and Maria Bello for the last Mummy installment. I love Maria Bello, but she ain't no Evey. However, I digress))
So, I saw the movie and liked it, but the character still fascinated me, so I went and got myself the book. I tore through it, finding I greatly enjoy Thomas Harris' writing style. Only, I got to the end and found out that Clarice Starling ends up running away with Hannibal and becomes a cannibal as well. What an excellent ending! It was such an amazing testament to the level of head game Hannibal Lecter could play that I was very sad that they did not use this in the movie. He basically had managed to convince Clarice that her career was over and that no one understood her or loved her like he did. It was glorious. With all the shock value of the story, it seems a shame that Hollywood was too chicken to have Clarice fall to the dark side.
Then, there's "Blood and Chocolate" by Annette Curtis Klause. In the movie, the main character, who is a version of werewolf that literally turns into a wolf at will finds herself falling in love with a normal human man, but she is being pursued by their pack leader to be his next mate. As you can surmise, all hell breaks loose when said human kills the pack leader's son (who know about the romance and was trying to scare off the stupid human). When the human finds out what she is, he at first freaks out, but then decides he can work around it and still love her. Well, in the end, the heroine kills the pack leader and runs off with her shiny new human to live happily ever after.
I'd read the book long before the movie had come out and I was heavily anticipating the movie. I was very disappointed with the movie version. In the book, the main character still finds herself falling in love with a human and she is still being pursued, and when she does the big reveal to her human, he still freaks out, only in the book, he stays freaked out. And I can't remember if it's him or other humans that were hunting them, but someone shoots or stabs her with silver and she gets stuck in the half-human-half-wolf form and it is the unconditional love of the wolf that pursued her that helps her regain her two separate forms and she realizes that she was a fool to try and deny her nature all along. It was much more satisfying to me.
The last I'll leave you with is "The Other Boleyn Girl" by Philippa Gregory. The movie, well, if you've read the book, and you know your Tudor history, it's a bit of a train wreck. Yes, Natalie Portman and Scarlett Johanneson are breath-taking and were good casting. But really, if I wanted to watch "Anne of the Thousand Days" that's precisely what I would do. "The Other Boleyn Girl" is about Mary, it follows Mary, you get insight into the disaster of Anne's treachery to become queen from Mary's point of view. You get to see that Henry was a good man driven to madness by horrid advice and the need to provide a male heir. You get to see Mary carve her own path even if it is one that no one likes. I liked reading Mary's version of events. You get none of that from the movie. So disappointing was this movie that I rank it below Showtime's "The Tudors" (which I ended up watching all the way through even as I wanted to throw things at the screen at times).
I could go on and on and try to figure out why Hollywood does the things that it does. But I did just mention in my last post that some people take movies too seriously, so I'm trying to just note the differences. And I should mention that I own the movies of "Hannibal" and "Blood and Chocolate" and I enjoy them thoroughly every time I watch them because despite the glaring differences, by themselves, they are good movies.
So, how about you Random Reader? Do you have any examples to share?
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Movie Magic
Let me begin by saying I am a champion of all movies. I love movies. They are near and dear to me as any childhood prized possession like my first stuffed bear (Townsend Vermont). Growing up, we went to the movies all the time. It was a staple on the weekends, to the point that when my dad passed away, one of my good friends burst into tears at the thought of not going to the movies with him any more.
My love of movies as lived on and as many who know me will tell you, my husband and I have an insane movie collection. I started it, and Husband the Great has only added to the wall of movies. My friends will no longer play Scene It with me because it is no longer fun for them, my favorite kind of music is Movie Scores. I LOVE MOVIES.
But, I find these days that the market is over-saturated. There are so many movies coming out that I just can't keep up. And I'm finding that with many of them, I just don't want to. There was a time when going to the movies was an outing. Now it's just expected. I remember just one or two major summer blockbusters a year while growing up. Now it's an entire season of non-stop "blockbusters".
And I think people are taking movies too seriously in certain aspects. To me, you should walk into every movie expecting nothing except to be entertained. Over the Top? Who cares? Blatantly Inaccurate? Were we going to History Class or a Movie? Didn't follow the book word for word? Could you imagine how long that movie would be? C'mon people, they're meant to be entertaining.
If you want something deep and meaningful on the level a major intellectual satisfaction, read the book the movie was based on. (Which I love to do too, but that's a post for another day)
My love of movies as lived on and as many who know me will tell you, my husband and I have an insane movie collection. I started it, and Husband the Great has only added to the wall of movies. My friends will no longer play Scene It with me because it is no longer fun for them, my favorite kind of music is Movie Scores. I LOVE MOVIES.
But, I find these days that the market is over-saturated. There are so many movies coming out that I just can't keep up. And I'm finding that with many of them, I just don't want to. There was a time when going to the movies was an outing. Now it's just expected. I remember just one or two major summer blockbusters a year while growing up. Now it's an entire season of non-stop "blockbusters".
And I think people are taking movies too seriously in certain aspects. To me, you should walk into every movie expecting nothing except to be entertained. Over the Top? Who cares? Blatantly Inaccurate? Were we going to History Class or a Movie? Didn't follow the book word for word? Could you imagine how long that movie would be? C'mon people, they're meant to be entertaining.
If you want something deep and meaningful on the level a major intellectual satisfaction, read the book the movie was based on. (Which I love to do too, but that's a post for another day)
Monday, October 31, 2011
One Down, Infinity To Go!
Husband the Great actually turned that phrase yesterday; "One Down, Infinity To Go". And I couldn't agree more in the sense that we've only been legally married one year today. But really, we've been solidly together for years. And together in the wishy-washy 'he's really not my boyfriend' way for for years before that. For a girl who's all about instant gratification, one might think that taking ten years to get to the altar took massive amounts of restraint. But no, not really. We got there exactly when we should have.
Joe and I often reflect that had we gotten married the first time we got all twitterpated with each other, we would have ended up bitterly divorced. After we broke up the first time (1998), there was about a year where we couldn't even talk directly to each other. Then, we became friends again, we and several friends occupied his mom's house and on valentines day 2000 we became a little more than just friends.
I won't go into all the gory details of moving in together in our first apartment, then apart again, then second apartment, then separate apartments, then together again into my mother's house, then being still together as I ran off to Texas in search of a better job (it didn't happen) and me coming home, to us buying our first house two and a half years ago, to having what I am insisting was the most fun wedding I have ever seen.
All of this change, all of these tumultuous moves and issues and repairs helped us to learn to talk to each other; to trust each other. Had we not worked all through it, I don't know if an earlier marriage would have survived. And I am glad we have worked it out.
Infinity to go!
Joe and I often reflect that had we gotten married the first time we got all twitterpated with each other, we would have ended up bitterly divorced. After we broke up the first time (1998), there was about a year where we couldn't even talk directly to each other. Then, we became friends again, we and several friends occupied his mom's house and on valentines day 2000 we became a little more than just friends.
I won't go into all the gory details of moving in together in our first apartment, then apart again, then second apartment, then separate apartments, then together again into my mother's house, then being still together as I ran off to Texas in search of a better job (it didn't happen) and me coming home, to us buying our first house two and a half years ago, to having what I am insisting was the most fun wedding I have ever seen.
All of this change, all of these tumultuous moves and issues and repairs helped us to learn to talk to each other; to trust each other. Had we not worked all through it, I don't know if an earlier marriage would have survived. And I am glad we have worked it out.
Infinity to go!
Friday, October 28, 2011
Am I Old or Just Part Cat?
Twice now this week, I have been suckered into an evening nap by Husband the Great. And by suckered, I mean Wednesday night I just crawled into bed with him when I got home (I work 1st shift, he works 3rd) and Thursday evening I sort of just pushed him over on the couch and trapped him there by laying on him. I'm sure he doesn't mind, he's an Olympic sleeper. That man will be talking to me one second and snoring loud enough to scare the cats the next. I don't know how he does that. But, when I do something like nap for three hours when I get home from work, it throws off my entire night; hence the post at one in the morning. My brain isn't winding down yet because it got a rapid re-charge.
Thinking back on it though, I would say that I am certainly a cat-nap master. As a matter of fact, there was entire section of the photo board at my high school graduation party entitled "Naps Are Underrated". It was easily thirty pictures of me from toddler to teenager sleeping in odd places in crazy positions at any given time.
Simple fact is: I love naps. There's something to be said for going into my spare bedroom on a Saturday afternoon when the room is a bit warm from the sun coming in the windows and just laying down for a bit. My spare bedroom is especially good because that is where we keep the majority of our books so it has that wonderful smell of books and I find that extremely comforting. AND, as a bonus, it's like playing hide and seek with Husband the Great should he come looking for me as the spare bedroom is the most little used room in the house. But usually, if I have those naps, he's still sleeping in our bedroom and doesn't even know this has occurred.
Why not just go nap with Husband the Great? Well, I move quite a bit in my sleep. I like to flip myself like a cute and pudgy little pancake. It disturbs him... and the cats. It's worse for him in the daytime because already the sun wants to wake him up despite the heavy curtains in our room, and the other multitude of things like lawn mowers and constantly barking dogs that tend to happen on Saturdays when all the rest of our neighborhood is awake and active. So, I resolve myself on Saturdays to nap alone.
But evenings, apparently, are becoming the new nap time. I really shouldn't, but Husband the Great is warm and comfy and he will not deter a nap even if his life depended on it.
Thinking back on it though, I would say that I am certainly a cat-nap master. As a matter of fact, there was entire section of the photo board at my high school graduation party entitled "Naps Are Underrated". It was easily thirty pictures of me from toddler to teenager sleeping in odd places in crazy positions at any given time.
Simple fact is: I love naps. There's something to be said for going into my spare bedroom on a Saturday afternoon when the room is a bit warm from the sun coming in the windows and just laying down for a bit. My spare bedroom is especially good because that is where we keep the majority of our books so it has that wonderful smell of books and I find that extremely comforting. AND, as a bonus, it's like playing hide and seek with Husband the Great should he come looking for me as the spare bedroom is the most little used room in the house. But usually, if I have those naps, he's still sleeping in our bedroom and doesn't even know this has occurred.
Why not just go nap with Husband the Great? Well, I move quite a bit in my sleep. I like to flip myself like a cute and pudgy little pancake. It disturbs him... and the cats. It's worse for him in the daytime because already the sun wants to wake him up despite the heavy curtains in our room, and the other multitude of things like lawn mowers and constantly barking dogs that tend to happen on Saturdays when all the rest of our neighborhood is awake and active. So, I resolve myself on Saturdays to nap alone.
But evenings, apparently, are becoming the new nap time. I really shouldn't, but Husband the Great is warm and comfy and he will not deter a nap even if his life depended on it.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Jack of All Trades, Master of None
When it comes to everything in my life, I would have to say that I am certainly a Jack of All Trades and Master of None. I know a moderate amount about a plethora of things. I know just enough Jeopardy answers that if you were to see me on the show, I would be that woman who gets just enough right that she held her own in the first round, but then would likely be trounced throughout the rest of the program.
This is also true for my artistic ability. I can fairly well create anything I turn my hand to, but I would not call anything I have made something that will stand the test of time and will be called ART years after I am gone.
This includes writing. I love to write and I know that people like to read what I write, but I lack the ability to finish something I've started. I have never finished a story. That's mostly because I get very invested in these characters I have created and I just want to keep knowing what happens to them. I would be great for comic books or television series, but novels are a serious challenge for me.
And there are times I have too many artistic ideas floating about in my head that I get overwhelmed. Between writing ideas, jewelry projects, baking adventures (I love to bake. Love IT. So much easier with my own kitchen), wanting to play video games, make scrapbooks, take photos (with my bad ass camera I got for Christmas last year) and edit them with Lightroom (which I need to learn) and Photoshop (which I know just enough of to get me by), sewing ideas (there's this coat made of upcycled sweaters I want to try) and trying to get a small business (custom jewelry and clothing, more on that another time) going, I find myself sort of just standing in my little office/studio and staring blankly at my work table while my brain tries to prioritize all these wonderful ideas. Hell, I can't even make a list to prioritize them without going into 'Does Not Compute' mode.
I am getting better though. I have discovered that if I make the list before I get home from the cubicle reserve and am not immersed in my artsy little world, I do much better. Now, I just have to stick to that plan when I get home. Which happens about seventy-five percent of the time. Husband the Great is very good at distracting me with things like attention and Jeopardy and Lego Pirates of the Caribbean (I have a bad habit of making little Lego Jack run around just to watch him flail his little arms about.).
So really, the entire point of today's post is to tell you that I am easily distracted by Shiney Objects.
This is also true for my artistic ability. I can fairly well create anything I turn my hand to, but I would not call anything I have made something that will stand the test of time and will be called ART years after I am gone.
This includes writing. I love to write and I know that people like to read what I write, but I lack the ability to finish something I've started. I have never finished a story. That's mostly because I get very invested in these characters I have created and I just want to keep knowing what happens to them. I would be great for comic books or television series, but novels are a serious challenge for me.
And there are times I have too many artistic ideas floating about in my head that I get overwhelmed. Between writing ideas, jewelry projects, baking adventures (I love to bake. Love IT. So much easier with my own kitchen), wanting to play video games, make scrapbooks, take photos (with my bad ass camera I got for Christmas last year) and edit them with Lightroom (which I need to learn) and Photoshop (which I know just enough of to get me by), sewing ideas (there's this coat made of upcycled sweaters I want to try) and trying to get a small business (custom jewelry and clothing, more on that another time) going, I find myself sort of just standing in my little office/studio and staring blankly at my work table while my brain tries to prioritize all these wonderful ideas. Hell, I can't even make a list to prioritize them without going into 'Does Not Compute' mode.
I am getting better though. I have discovered that if I make the list before I get home from the cubicle reserve and am not immersed in my artsy little world, I do much better. Now, I just have to stick to that plan when I get home. Which happens about seventy-five percent of the time. Husband the Great is very good at distracting me with things like attention and Jeopardy and Lego Pirates of the Caribbean (I have a bad habit of making little Lego Jack run around just to watch him flail his little arms about.).
So really, the entire point of today's post is to tell you that I am easily distracted by Shiney Objects.
Monday, October 24, 2011
I think too much.
I feel like there are days I think too much on things that bother me.
The thing that bothers me today is the loyalty of friends. I find it depressing that I have more interaction with friends I made while living in Texas for less than a year than I do the friends I've known for all of my adult life and live right here in town. In all honesty, I don't think they think about it as often as I do. Sadly, Joe (Husband the Great) and I are on the fringe of two different groups of our friends. The older group; who all have children and all but one couple seem to have the opinion that our house is so child-unfriendly that their kids wouldn't survive the night. And the younger group; they abandoned us back in February and never looked back.
I understand the older group; it's a pain in the ass to haul kids places. But they do it. And some of them have never even seen our house (we've been here 2 1/2 years). I would be giddy to host parties and have everyone over, but they don't want to come over. I don't know what the remedy might be other than to get over it and just keep on going over to other people's houses.
I do not understand the younger group. These are guys who were in our wedding party not quite a year ago and I feel like we don't even exist to them anymore. One of them makes regular contact, but even so, he's made it clear that if he has a choice between anything else and visiting Joe and I, it will be anything else every time. We could go visit them, sure, but I, nor Joe, will not just show up uninvited to some one's house after such a long period of not being around them all the time. To me, these friends have made it clear we are not on good enough terms anymore to just show up.
So, long story short, Joe and I find ourselves with an abundance of free time. I find myself alone with my thoughts more often than I would like. And really, it's no one's responsibility to entertain me (save maybe my husbands), but once upon a time there were people who wanted to.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
A New Breed Of Child
This is one of those posts that may lead people to believe that I'm a heartless bitch.
For years now, I have noticed this startling trend of children being horribly unable to entertain themselves. Even in the age of video games and several entire television channels dedicated to them, I've observed multitudes of children unable to give their parents five seconds to themselves. This observation has made me sort of take a look back at my childhood and wonder if I was just curiously self-sufficient, or if there has been a drastic change in the way people are raising kids to make them overly dependent on their mothers and fathers.
When I was a kid, it was understood at social gatherings that my parents were there to see their friends/adult family members. They were there to have conversation that did not involve instilling morals or patiently explaining simple things that they'd known for years to their children who'd never encountered such things before. They were there to get some relief from every day responsibility. So, it was mine and my sister's job to be good kids (for the most part) and play with the other kids of parents that were looking for the exact same relief. I don't know about the rest of you, but I could go an entire day without talking to my parents because I was far too busy playing out the latest adventure that had come to mind, either through Barbies, My Little Pony, or just flat out make believe in the back yard with sticks and any junk Dad said was okay to play with in the garage.
As a result of this, I am a firm believer in the separation of Adult Time, Kid Time and Family Time. There are times you just need to get a babysitter. There are times you just need to kick the kids out of the house. Your kids do not have to go everywhere you go. Your kids won't learn to be self-sufficient if you don't cut the umbilical cord. But at the same time, I'm not suggesting you leave them home alone if they're not mature enough to govern themselves. Nor am I saying you should forget your children entirely and just live life as if they hadn't been born. There's a fine balance. I personally feel like my parents had it right. To the point where even to this day, I LOVE to spend time with my mother, but I don't HAVE to. She doesn't wig out if I don't call her every day, or visit every weekend. She doesn't get upset when I choose to spend New Years with friends instead of family. She doesn't shove emotional blackmail down my throat. From what I've heard over the years, my mother is an exception to the rule. Sadly, this makes it incredibly difficult for me to accept such behavior from other mothers to their children.
It's this weird, clingy, unable to let go pandering to these kids that have this entire generation of spoiled, kinda dumb, early twenties/late teens believing that they are masters of the universe and their iPhone will provide for them everything Mommy and Daddy did (or still do and always will). Now before you get up in arms, there are always exceptions. There are always smart people with common sense that get it right despite everyone insisting that their way couldn't possibly be the right way because the Internet said so. But sadly, smart is not valued like it used to be.
I'm sure there are those who will read this and dismiss it entirely because I don't have children and couldn't possibly know what I'm talking about, hell some of you may even get mad. But it doesn't take having kids to be able to observe behavior, and what I'm seeing lately makes me fear for the human race.
For years now, I have noticed this startling trend of children being horribly unable to entertain themselves. Even in the age of video games and several entire television channels dedicated to them, I've observed multitudes of children unable to give their parents five seconds to themselves. This observation has made me sort of take a look back at my childhood and wonder if I was just curiously self-sufficient, or if there has been a drastic change in the way people are raising kids to make them overly dependent on their mothers and fathers.
When I was a kid, it was understood at social gatherings that my parents were there to see their friends/adult family members. They were there to have conversation that did not involve instilling morals or patiently explaining simple things that they'd known for years to their children who'd never encountered such things before. They were there to get some relief from every day responsibility. So, it was mine and my sister's job to be good kids (for the most part) and play with the other kids of parents that were looking for the exact same relief. I don't know about the rest of you, but I could go an entire day without talking to my parents because I was far too busy playing out the latest adventure that had come to mind, either through Barbies, My Little Pony, or just flat out make believe in the back yard with sticks and any junk Dad said was okay to play with in the garage.
As a result of this, I am a firm believer in the separation of Adult Time, Kid Time and Family Time. There are times you just need to get a babysitter. There are times you just need to kick the kids out of the house. Your kids do not have to go everywhere you go. Your kids won't learn to be self-sufficient if you don't cut the umbilical cord. But at the same time, I'm not suggesting you leave them home alone if they're not mature enough to govern themselves. Nor am I saying you should forget your children entirely and just live life as if they hadn't been born. There's a fine balance. I personally feel like my parents had it right. To the point where even to this day, I LOVE to spend time with my mother, but I don't HAVE to. She doesn't wig out if I don't call her every day, or visit every weekend. She doesn't get upset when I choose to spend New Years with friends instead of family. She doesn't shove emotional blackmail down my throat. From what I've heard over the years, my mother is an exception to the rule. Sadly, this makes it incredibly difficult for me to accept such behavior from other mothers to their children.
It's this weird, clingy, unable to let go pandering to these kids that have this entire generation of spoiled, kinda dumb, early twenties/late teens believing that they are masters of the universe and their iPhone will provide for them everything Mommy and Daddy did (or still do and always will). Now before you get up in arms, there are always exceptions. There are always smart people with common sense that get it right despite everyone insisting that their way couldn't possibly be the right way because the Internet said so. But sadly, smart is not valued like it used to be.
I'm sure there are those who will read this and dismiss it entirely because I don't have children and couldn't possibly know what I'm talking about, hell some of you may even get mad. But it doesn't take having kids to be able to observe behavior, and what I'm seeing lately makes me fear for the human race.
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