Whew!
What a week this was! I thought that I'd definitely be posting to the blog more this week...oh yeah!
What's that saying, things happen while you're making plans? Damn right!!
Finally got to interview Miss K______________. There was so many last minute cancellations, misunderstandings etc., that I was beginning to feel like one of those characters in an Animal Planet show...I mean I felt like I was stalking Miss K______ through the veldt with a dart gun. Anyway, interview went off without a hitch! Whee, and I now have 8, yup count 'em 8 pages of transcripts on which to build my piece. Not bad, if I say so for myself.
Transcribing is the hardest part of the gig. You sit there, hitting rewind every 30 seconds (or less) trying to type as fast as the person is speaking, never works out that way. It's time consuming and boring. I'd much rather hold my recorder to the computer, hit play, walk away and come back to something that typed itself.
Was going to interview a band, but that fell through, maybe next month? Ah, the vagaries of rock n'roll.
I have to say as a writer, I'm a fabulous procrastinator. Today, went online and was planning to do some research, and started fooling around with my windows media player. I'm always looking for cool Internet radio stations. I once found one that played nothing but Irish drinking songs, I loved it. Went back and they had flown off into the ether.
My musical tastes are pretty diverse, I'll listen to and enjoy everything from renaissance choral works to Robert Fripp. I usually fall back on electronica--everything from trance to Industrial, and I love working out to aggro music (note to self--find my way back to the gym)...yeah I can go off on a tangent, anyway, my point, and yes there is one here, is that I found a really cool Internet radio station gaydar radio. It's a UK Internet radio station, www.gaydarradio.com and I've been listening to it all day. Lots of brilliant dance music etc., and when you're trapped in front of the computer, at least you can pretend you're dancing.
Dancing...ah, bringing me to a fav topic BOYS Now it's also been a weird week in boytown. One minute, I've got a bunch of boys clamoring to go out with me, and the next...oops! They've popped off into the wayside. For sanity's sake, I'll only use nicknames.
Ahem, Chef calls me twice this week, just to chat, I'm on the other end of the phone thinking "are you gonna ask me out or what??!!" Nope. But I get a voicemail 8:30 PM, Friday night wanting to know if I'd meet Cheffie for a drink. NOT.
Okay, first and foremost NEVER EVER EVER ASK A WOMAN OUT AT THE LAST MINUTE! GOT THAT Okay? It's not going to happen. Esp. if you don't know her very well. By Friday, most people have plans, and if they don't it's 'cause they want it that way. If a chick jumps at going out with a guy last minute, she's desperate. That you want to stay away from, far far away. If a boy asks a girl out last minute (a) either his plans fell through or (b) he's desperate. Neither is a good thing to hook up with, 'kay?
There is nothing on this earth worse than the smell of of Eau De Desperation. It's not pretty. Doesn't smell good and makes the average person want to run screaming into the night. To be on the safe side, I think it's best if a woman wears low heels on a first date. That way, if the boy is wacky, you can always run (very quickly) into the first cab, go home, be safe, then chortle to your friends on the phone about the horror.
Anyway, TV boy madly persued me madly via phone and email, never pinned me down for a date then whoosh! Gone. I'm sorry, what was I supposed to do? He's going on and on about doing stuff, I'm agreeing, and then doesn't pony up with a genuine date. Please.
Software boy claimed that he wanted to take me to the park and drink champagne at dusk. Not bad. Never happened.
Math boy got tossed into the dustbin. Well, if you're going to call me at 1 am, not give your name, then try to have phone sex with me and all we've done is stoop kissed, c'mon. Yeesh. How can you have phone sex without having sex with someone first. I mean, you have no idea what they look like naked. And you have no idea if you're good together. Maybe he thought it would be cheaper than a 1-900 line?
Hmm, I think there were a few other boys, but I've forgotten them. Guess they didn't make an impression.
There's always ilex boy. Sigh. Ilex boy. Nothing going on there. However, I'm beginning to feel like I'm back in high school. I'm so not going there. He has fabulous ilex (ilexi??) sigh. STOP that.
Wine boy finally got the hint that I was not going out on a second date with him. The first date, he takes me to a nifty French bistro on Park Ave, near the Gramercy Park area. Orders a lot of splits (he's doing most of the drinking) and then wants me to give him $25.00 for the bill. THEN, he pays for it with his Visa. Oh yeah, I want that. Yeah, I want that right now.
Dating is a war of attrition. It really is. You date a number of boys and whittle them down to a smaller group, until and eventually you want to be with one. I believe that's how the theory works.
Me? I go out on a lot of first dates. It's very rare that I'll go on a second date with the same boy. When you get experiences like Wine Boy or Cardboard Boy, you really don't want to see them again.
Cardboard Boy--never changed the inflection of his voice or the expression of his face. I think that's enough to describe that date.
Funny, the boys that make me nuts (not in a good way) are the ones that want me. The boys that make me nuts (in a good way) either (a) I've tossed into the dustbin, due to way too much emotional baggage or (b) not interested in me.
C'est La Vie, C'est La Guerre.
What do I want? It's really simple. I want a boy I can laugh with, talk with, someone who has a brain and can talk about a variety of subjects. A boy who can jump from low humor to oh, say the Opera. A boy who isn't afraid to be silly. A boy who can dance and kiss. A boy who not only gives me that visceral tug, but, whoa nelly a pull too!
I know, I know.
Look, I'm pretty, I'm smart, I can dance,I can kiss, I'm well read, don't eat crackers in bed, thin, okay, I've been told I'm a hottie (that makes me sound like camping equipment. C'mon guys it's raining, but we can fire up the hottie and have a bonfire and smores in no time!) And I'm picky as hell.
If I'm gonna get naked with a boy, he's got to get my brain wet besides my panties.
I am tired of being told that I'm intimidating. Good lord, I'm 5 2 1/2, 112 pounds. If it's really windy, I get slammed into buildings. I am not (physically) intimidating. I won't play dumb. I won't kiss ass to get some either. T'aint worth it.
Well we'll see what happens this week. There may be hope for Chef and who knows what the professor will do? Always liked a prof who had tattoos!
Saturday, September 27, 2003
Whew!
What a week this was! I thought that I'd definitely be posting to the blog more this week...oh yeah!
What's that saying, things happen while you're making plans? Damn right!!
Finally got to interview Miss K______________. There was so many last minute cancellations, misunderstandings etc., that I was beginning to feel like one of those characters in an Animal Planet show...I mean I felt like I was stalking Miss K______ through the veldt with a dart gun. Anyway, interview went off without a hitch! Whee, and I now have 8, yup count 'em 8 pages of transcripts on which to build my piece. Not bad, if I say so for myself.
Transcribing is the hardest part of the gig. You sit there, hitting rewind every 30 seconds (or less) trying to type as fast as the person is speaking, never works out that way. It's time consuming and boring. I'd much rather hold my recorder to the computer, hit play, walk away and come back to something that typed itself.
Was going to interview a band, but that fell through, maybe next month? Ah, the vagaries of rock n'roll.
I have to say as a writer, I'm a fabulous procrastinator. Today, went online and was planning to do some research, and started fooling around with my windows media player. I'm always looking for cool Internet radio stations. I once found one that played nothing but Irish drinking songs, I loved it. Went back and they had flown off into the ether.
My musical tastes are pretty diverse, I'll listen to and enjoy everything from renaissance choral works to Robert Fripp. I usually fall back on electronica--everything from trance to Industrial, and I love working out to aggro music (note to self--find my way back to the gym)...yeah I can go off on a tangent, anyway, my point, and yes there is one here, is that I found a really cool Internet radio station gaydar radio. It's a UK Internet radio station, www.gaydarradio.com and I've been listening to it all day. Lots of brilliant dance music etc., and when you're trapped in front of the computer, at least you can pretend you're dancing.
Dancing...ah, bringing me to a fav topic BOYS Now it's also been a weird week in boytown. One minute, I've got a bunch of boys clamoring to go out with me, and the next...oops! They've popped off into the wayside. For sanity's sake, I'll only use nicknames.
Ahem, Chef calls me twice this week, just to chat, I'm on the other end of the phone thinking "are you gonna ask me out or what??!!" Nope. But I get a voicemail 8:30 PM, Friday night wanting to know if I'd meet Cheffie for a drink. NOT.
Okay, first and foremost NEVER EVER EVER ASK A WOMAN OUT AT THE LAST MINUTE! GOT THAT Okay? It's not going to happen. Esp. if you don't know her very well. By Friday, most people have plans, and if they don't it's 'cause they want it that way. If a chick jumps at going out with a guy last minute, she's desperate. That you want to stay away from, far far away. If a boy asks a girl out last minute (a) either his plans fell through or (b) he's desperate. Neither is a good thing to hook up with, 'kay?
There is nothing on this earth worse than the smell of of Eau De Desperation. It's not pretty. Doesn't smell good and makes the average person want to run screaming into the night. To be on the safe side, I think it's best if a woman wears low heels on a first date. That way, if the boy is wacky, you can always run (very quickly) into the first cab, go home, be safe, then chortle to your friends on the phone about the horror.
Anyway, TV boy madly persued me madly via phone and email, never pinned me down for a date then whoosh! Gone. I'm sorry, what was I supposed to do? He's going on and on about doing stuff, I'm agreeing, and then doesn't pony up with a genuine date. Please.
Software boy claimed that he wanted to take me to the park and drink champagne at dusk. Not bad. Never happened.
Math boy got tossed into the dustbin. Well, if you're going to call me at 1 am, not give your name, then try to have phone sex with me and all we've done is stoop kissed, c'mon. Yeesh. How can you have phone sex without having sex with someone first. I mean, you have no idea what they look like naked. And you have no idea if you're good together. Maybe he thought it would be cheaper than a 1-900 line?
Hmm, I think there were a few other boys, but I've forgotten them. Guess they didn't make an impression.
There's always ilex boy. Sigh. Ilex boy. Nothing going on there. However, I'm beginning to feel like I'm back in high school. I'm so not going there. He has fabulous ilex (ilexi??) sigh. STOP that.
Wine boy finally got the hint that I was not going out on a second date with him. The first date, he takes me to a nifty French bistro on Park Ave, near the Gramercy Park area. Orders a lot of splits (he's doing most of the drinking) and then wants me to give him $25.00 for the bill. THEN, he pays for it with his Visa. Oh yeah, I want that. Yeah, I want that right now.
Dating is a war of attrition. It really is. You date a number of boys and whittle them down to a smaller group, until and eventually you want to be with one. I believe that's how the theory works.
Me? I go out on a lot of first dates. It's very rare that I'll go on a second date with the same boy. When you get experiences like Wine Boy or Cardboard Boy, you really don't want to see them again.
Cardboard Boy--never changed the inflection of his voice or the expression of his face. I think that's enough to describe that date.
Funny, the boys that make me nuts (not in a good way) are the ones that want me. The boys that make me nuts (in a good way) either (a) I've tossed into the dustbin, due to way too much emotional baggage or (b) not interested in me.
C'est La Vie, C'est La Guerre.
What do I want? It's really simple. I want a boy I can laugh with, talk with, someone who has a brain and can talk about a variety of subjects. A boy who can jump from low humor to oh, say the Opera. A boy who isn't afraid to be silly. A boy who can dance and kiss. A boy who not only gives me that visceral tug, but, whoa nelly a pull too!
I know, I know.
Look, I'm pretty, I'm smart, I can dance,I can kiss, I'm well read, don't eat crackers in bed, thin, okay, I've been told I'm a hottie (that makes me sound like camping equipment. C'mon guys it's raining, but we can fire up the hottie and have a bonfire and smores in no time!) And I'm picky as hell.
If I'm gonna get naked with a boy, he's got to get my brain wet besides my panties.
I am tired of being told that I'm intimidating. Good lord, I'm 5 2 1/2, 112 pounds. If it's really windy, I get slammed into buildings. I am not (physically) intimidating. I won't play dumb. I won't kiss ass to get some either. T'aint worth it.
Well we'll see what happens this week. There may be hope for Chef and who knows what the professor will do? Always liked a prof who had tattoos!
What a week this was! I thought that I'd definitely be posting to the blog more this week...oh yeah!
What's that saying, things happen while you're making plans? Damn right!!
Finally got to interview Miss K______________. There was so many last minute cancellations, misunderstandings etc., that I was beginning to feel like one of those characters in an Animal Planet show...I mean I felt like I was stalking Miss K______ through the veldt with a dart gun. Anyway, interview went off without a hitch! Whee, and I now have 8, yup count 'em 8 pages of transcripts on which to build my piece. Not bad, if I say so for myself.
Transcribing is the hardest part of the gig. You sit there, hitting rewind every 30 seconds (or less) trying to type as fast as the person is speaking, never works out that way. It's time consuming and boring. I'd much rather hold my recorder to the computer, hit play, walk away and come back to something that typed itself.
Was going to interview a band, but that fell through, maybe next month? Ah, the vagaries of rock n'roll.
I have to say as a writer, I'm a fabulous procrastinator. Today, went online and was planning to do some research, and started fooling around with my windows media player. I'm always looking for cool Internet radio stations. I once found one that played nothing but Irish drinking songs, I loved it. Went back and they had flown off into the ether.
My musical tastes are pretty diverse, I'll listen to and enjoy everything from renaissance choral works to Robert Fripp. I usually fall back on electronica--everything from trance to Industrial, and I love working out to aggro music (note to self--find my way back to the gym)...yeah I can go off on a tangent, anyway, my point, and yes there is one here, is that I found a really cool Internet radio station gaydar radio. It's a UK Internet radio station, www.gaydarradio.com and I've been listening to it all day. Lots of brilliant dance music etc., and when you're trapped in front of the computer, at least you can pretend you're dancing.
Dancing...ah, bringing me to a fav topic BOYS Now it's also been a weird week in boytown. One minute, I've got a bunch of boys clamoring to go out with me, and the next...oops! They've popped off into the wayside. For sanity's sake, I'll only use nicknames.
Ahem, Chef calls me twice this week, just to chat, I'm on the other end of the phone thinking "are you gonna ask me out or what??!!" Nope. But I get a voicemail 8:30 PM, Friday night wanting to know if I'd meet Cheffie for a drink. NOT.
Okay, first and foremost NEVER EVER EVER ASK A WOMAN OUT AT THE LAST MINUTE! GOT THAT Okay? It's not going to happen. Esp. if you don't know her very well. By Friday, most people have plans, and if they don't it's 'cause they want it that way. If a chick jumps at going out with a guy last minute, she's desperate. That you want to stay away from, far far away. If a boy asks a girl out last minute (a) either his plans fell through or (b) he's desperate. Neither is a good thing to hook up with, 'kay?
There is nothing on this earth worse than the smell of of Eau De Desperation. It's not pretty. Doesn't smell good and makes the average person want to run screaming into the night. To be on the safe side, I think it's best if a woman wears low heels on a first date. That way, if the boy is wacky, you can always run (very quickly) into the first cab, go home, be safe, then chortle to your friends on the phone about the horror.
Anyway, TV boy madly persued me madly via phone and email, never pinned me down for a date then whoosh! Gone. I'm sorry, what was I supposed to do? He's going on and on about doing stuff, I'm agreeing, and then doesn't pony up with a genuine date. Please.
Software boy claimed that he wanted to take me to the park and drink champagne at dusk. Not bad. Never happened.
Math boy got tossed into the dustbin. Well, if you're going to call me at 1 am, not give your name, then try to have phone sex with me and all we've done is stoop kissed, c'mon. Yeesh. How can you have phone sex without having sex with someone first. I mean, you have no idea what they look like naked. And you have no idea if you're good together. Maybe he thought it would be cheaper than a 1-900 line?
Hmm, I think there were a few other boys, but I've forgotten them. Guess they didn't make an impression.
There's always ilex boy. Sigh. Ilex boy. Nothing going on there. However, I'm beginning to feel like I'm back in high school. I'm so not going there. He has fabulous ilex (ilexi??) sigh. STOP that.
Wine boy finally got the hint that I was not going out on a second date with him. The first date, he takes me to a nifty French bistro on Park Ave, near the Gramercy Park area. Orders a lot of splits (he's doing most of the drinking) and then wants me to give him $25.00 for the bill. THEN, he pays for it with his Visa. Oh yeah, I want that. Yeah, I want that right now.
Dating is a war of attrition. It really is. You date a number of boys and whittle them down to a smaller group, until and eventually you want to be with one. I believe that's how the theory works.
Me? I go out on a lot of first dates. It's very rare that I'll go on a second date with the same boy. When you get experiences like Wine Boy or Cardboard Boy, you really don't want to see them again.
Cardboard Boy--never changed the inflection of his voice or the expression of his face. I think that's enough to describe that date.
Funny, the boys that make me nuts (not in a good way) are the ones that want me. The boys that make me nuts (in a good way) either (a) I've tossed into the dustbin, due to way too much emotional baggage or (b) not interested in me.
C'est La Vie, C'est La Guerre.
What do I want? It's really simple. I want a boy I can laugh with, talk with, someone who has a brain and can talk about a variety of subjects. A boy who can jump from low humor to oh, say the Opera. A boy who isn't afraid to be silly. A boy who can dance and kiss. A boy who not only gives me that visceral tug, but, whoa nelly a pull too!
I know, I know.
Look, I'm pretty, I'm smart, I can dance,I can kiss, I'm well read, don't eat crackers in bed, thin, okay, I've been told I'm a hottie (that makes me sound like camping equipment. C'mon guys it's raining, but we can fire up the hottie and have a bonfire and smores in no time!) And I'm picky as hell.
If I'm gonna get naked with a boy, he's got to get my brain wet besides my panties.
I am tired of being told that I'm intimidating. Good lord, I'm 5 2 1/2, 112 pounds. If it's really windy, I get slammed into buildings. I am not (physically) intimidating. I won't play dumb. I won't kiss ass to get some either. T'aint worth it.
Well we'll see what happens this week. There may be hope for Chef and who knows what the professor will do? Always liked a prof who had tattoos!
Tuesday, September 23, 2003
Juxtapositions et al
I was lying in bed reading the biography of Sam Spiegel by Natasha Fraser-Cavasoni -- I've been switching back and forth from that one to the new biography of Ben Franklin and I realized that both men were very similar, in that they constantly re-invented themselves.
So my mind started wandering and I realized that we all do that. As adults, most of us aren't what we were as children. Maybe there are some traits that stay the same, but at almost any given period in time, we've (hopefully) changed or grown into a different direction.
Some of my friends have grown very far from their roots. Perhaps like a boomerang, they'll return to them. Think of all the hippies in the 70's. Most of them came from middle class households, and now they're back there. Usually with a vengeance--they've become more of a consumer than their parents, more concerned with material things than their forebears. It's funny, in a sad ironic way.
Me--I've definitely changed from who I was when I was small. There are times when I've thought that if I ever met my child-self, my teenage-self, or my college-self, I'd loathe me.
As a child I was frighteningly shy. It was painful to open my mouth and speak in public. One day, I was in fifth grade and as I looked at the blackboard, I realized that I couldn't see it. Instead of raising my hand or saying anything to my teacher, I would sneak up to the board and try to read it very quickly.
When I was a middle schooler I was a horrendous snob. It was a combination of environment and family. Oh yes, don't you hear echoes of that darn "nurture vs. nature" arguement? Yeah, that one always makes me laugh. It's as bad as what came first, the chicken or the egg? I'm now convinced that the entire debate is a bad joke to be played upon unsuspecting people. Sorta like an intellectual prank.
Getting back to middle schoolism -- in a very idiotic way I looked down my tiny nose at so many people and things. It's not until you're an adult that you realize that snobbery is (essentially)insecurity wrapped around in a velvet lined cloak. Why else would one person look askance at another person based on appearance, antecedence or fashion, if not to bolster one's ego?
Laughingly I realized what a little music snot I was when I saw "High Fidelity." I was a member of my college radio station, and like many people who are obsessed with music at that age, if you didn't know seminal and/or obscure bands, labels, sub-sub-sub-genres, you just weren't hipster enough to hang.
I'm watching the movie and I see Jack Black's character interacting with customers and oh! I just wanted to crawl under my seat and hide for, let's say
20 or 30 years. I mean, it's funny now, but damn, I must have been insufferable. What's worse is that there was an entire group of us doing the same thing. What egos we must have punctured, we were so pretentious. Now I can laugh but I think I'd bitchslap college-me.
However, I now understand why adults would give me a funny condescending look when I or my cronies would talk about MUSIC, ART, or anything that seemed to pop out of our mouths in capital letters...because they just knew that when grew up (and hopefully most of us did)that reality would smack us in the face and we'd finally learn that we know nothing at all.
That's the true beauty of life. Everyday is a blank page. Every single day you have a chance to learn something new about yourself, the world and life.
I really like that.
I was lying in bed reading the biography of Sam Spiegel by Natasha Fraser-Cavasoni -- I've been switching back and forth from that one to the new biography of Ben Franklin and I realized that both men were very similar, in that they constantly re-invented themselves.
So my mind started wandering and I realized that we all do that. As adults, most of us aren't what we were as children. Maybe there are some traits that stay the same, but at almost any given period in time, we've (hopefully) changed or grown into a different direction.
Some of my friends have grown very far from their roots. Perhaps like a boomerang, they'll return to them. Think of all the hippies in the 70's. Most of them came from middle class households, and now they're back there. Usually with a vengeance--they've become more of a consumer than their parents, more concerned with material things than their forebears. It's funny, in a sad ironic way.
Me--I've definitely changed from who I was when I was small. There are times when I've thought that if I ever met my child-self, my teenage-self, or my college-self, I'd loathe me.
As a child I was frighteningly shy. It was painful to open my mouth and speak in public. One day, I was in fifth grade and as I looked at the blackboard, I realized that I couldn't see it. Instead of raising my hand or saying anything to my teacher, I would sneak up to the board and try to read it very quickly.
When I was a middle schooler I was a horrendous snob. It was a combination of environment and family. Oh yes, don't you hear echoes of that darn "nurture vs. nature" arguement? Yeah, that one always makes me laugh. It's as bad as what came first, the chicken or the egg? I'm now convinced that the entire debate is a bad joke to be played upon unsuspecting people. Sorta like an intellectual prank.
Getting back to middle schoolism -- in a very idiotic way I looked down my tiny nose at so many people and things. It's not until you're an adult that you realize that snobbery is (essentially)insecurity wrapped around in a velvet lined cloak. Why else would one person look askance at another person based on appearance, antecedence or fashion, if not to bolster one's ego?
Laughingly I realized what a little music snot I was when I saw "High Fidelity." I was a member of my college radio station, and like many people who are obsessed with music at that age, if you didn't know seminal and/or obscure bands, labels, sub-sub-sub-genres, you just weren't hipster enough to hang.
I'm watching the movie and I see Jack Black's character interacting with customers and oh! I just wanted to crawl under my seat and hide for, let's say
20 or 30 years. I mean, it's funny now, but damn, I must have been insufferable. What's worse is that there was an entire group of us doing the same thing. What egos we must have punctured, we were so pretentious. Now I can laugh but I think I'd bitchslap college-me.
However, I now understand why adults would give me a funny condescending look when I or my cronies would talk about MUSIC, ART, or anything that seemed to pop out of our mouths in capital letters...because they just knew that when grew up (and hopefully most of us did)that reality would smack us in the face and we'd finally learn that we know nothing at all.
That's the true beauty of life. Everyday is a blank page. Every single day you have a chance to learn something new about yourself, the world and life.
I really like that.
Monday, September 22, 2003
Ethics and other silly things...
I'm pretty excited about my blog adventure. This is a fun place for me to write about loose ideas that rattle through my thoughts, cover topics without having to worry about tone, POV, or anything other than just satisfying myself.
However, there are topics etc., where politesse needs to be exercised. And, there's no earthly reason why I should bare my soul online anyway. That whole deal has been done to death, and needlessly hurt people.
After much thought, I realized that I could write about my writing life, albeit in an 18th Century novel style. In other words, I can mention that I'm in the process of interviewing Ms. Z________, or am waiting to hear from the manager of the phenomenal group the L________'s etc., and so forth without getting anyone's knickers in a twist. Obviously, I'm not going to utilize the first initial of their name, but I can blow off steam in a pretty harmless way.
I think with friends, I'll use their name; I mean that's what I call them. If they prefer to remain anonymous -- then I'll edit use either an alias or initial.
In regards to dating, boys and all that...well, I've been nicknaming boys since I was in college, so I'll continue to do that. If I get involved with a boy, there won't be any gory details posted here. What are friends for, if not to call them up and say, "What the hell did that mean??"
Some of my posts will be a place for the internal to find an external home. Some of them will be about my dating or work adventures; most of them will be about me.
I think this'll work out well.
I'm pretty excited about my blog adventure. This is a fun place for me to write about loose ideas that rattle through my thoughts, cover topics without having to worry about tone, POV, or anything other than just satisfying myself.
However, there are topics etc., where politesse needs to be exercised. And, there's no earthly reason why I should bare my soul online anyway. That whole deal has been done to death, and needlessly hurt people.
After much thought, I realized that I could write about my writing life, albeit in an 18th Century novel style. In other words, I can mention that I'm in the process of interviewing Ms. Z________, or am waiting to hear from the manager of the phenomenal group the L________'s etc., and so forth without getting anyone's knickers in a twist. Obviously, I'm not going to utilize the first initial of their name, but I can blow off steam in a pretty harmless way.
I think with friends, I'll use their name; I mean that's what I call them. If they prefer to remain anonymous -- then I'll edit use either an alias or initial.
In regards to dating, boys and all that...well, I've been nicknaming boys since I was in college, so I'll continue to do that. If I get involved with a boy, there won't be any gory details posted here. What are friends for, if not to call them up and say, "What the hell did that mean??"
Some of my posts will be a place for the internal to find an external home. Some of them will be about my dating or work adventures; most of them will be about me.
I think this'll work out well.
Really Random Thoughts or loose change
...What is so great about wearing high heeled sneakers or workboots? The twain should never meet. It looks circus-like, not in the good Fellini way, just sad.
...Why is it so satisfying when you slide an omlette off the pan and onto a plate?
...Why can't all the psychos who walk around muttering to themselves be paired up? When there's two of them together it looks like they're having a conversation
...Is it just me, or does anyone else look at the weird things they see on the street and think, "performance art"?
...Could someone tell me where all the lost socks go? I'm still waiting for a mate to a pair I've lost two years ago to show up. I have this feeling that once I throw it out, the other one will appear.
...Why can't they have short runway models?? I'm 5 2 1/2 and if I attempted to wear the stuff they showed this past week all you'd see is a tiny head poking out of miles of fabric. NOT FAIR. I'd look like a yorkie trapped in a robe.
...Why can't neccessities be fun instead of boring?
...Why can't I get paid for procrastinating? I do a pretty good job of it.
...Why do I watch my weight? Can't it watch me?
...Why do men always ask women how many pairs of shoes they own? It's not like they're going to borrow them anyway.
...Why do I have to sit still to write my book? Why can't I just rest my head on a ream of paper and let the words fall gently out of my brain. No copy editing needed!
...What is it about the smell of peaches that is so enticing? They smell like summer, earth and delicious parties all wrapped up into one succulent bite.
...Why can't I blink my eyes like Jeanie and all the pots and pans are suddenly clean?
...What do some people insist on using multi-syllabic words (yes, Rose I know the word is polysyllabic, but the other one sounds more fun, okay) to describe things when it's easier to be simplistic? Are they afraid of being thought dumb? I thought brevity was the soul of wit. Do they really know what they're saying or do they just like the sound of their voice?
...What is so great about wearing high heeled sneakers or workboots? The twain should never meet. It looks circus-like, not in the good Fellini way, just sad.
...Why is it so satisfying when you slide an omlette off the pan and onto a plate?
...Why can't all the psychos who walk around muttering to themselves be paired up? When there's two of them together it looks like they're having a conversation
...Is it just me, or does anyone else look at the weird things they see on the street and think, "performance art"?
...Could someone tell me where all the lost socks go? I'm still waiting for a mate to a pair I've lost two years ago to show up. I have this feeling that once I throw it out, the other one will appear.
...Why can't they have short runway models?? I'm 5 2 1/2 and if I attempted to wear the stuff they showed this past week all you'd see is a tiny head poking out of miles of fabric. NOT FAIR. I'd look like a yorkie trapped in a robe.
...Why can't neccessities be fun instead of boring?
...Why can't I get paid for procrastinating? I do a pretty good job of it.
...Why do I watch my weight? Can't it watch me?
...Why do men always ask women how many pairs of shoes they own? It's not like they're going to borrow them anyway.
...Why do I have to sit still to write my book? Why can't I just rest my head on a ream of paper and let the words fall gently out of my brain. No copy editing needed!
...What is it about the smell of peaches that is so enticing? They smell like summer, earth and delicious parties all wrapped up into one succulent bite.
...Why can't I blink my eyes like Jeanie and all the pots and pans are suddenly clean?
...What do some people insist on using multi-syllabic words (yes, Rose I know the word is polysyllabic, but the other one sounds more fun, okay) to describe things when it's easier to be simplistic? Are they afraid of being thought dumb? I thought brevity was the soul of wit. Do they really know what they're saying or do they just like the sound of their voice?
Sunday, September 21, 2003
The Paper Question
I've been trying to organize my work self the past couple of days and realized an immutable equation that frightens me. Writer = paper, paper = writer. I mean, if you write you've got papers everywhere. On tables, on the floor, in every room. Most of the stuff is research or press releases or some idle thought that may turn into a pitch...the papers keep growing. And growing. It's almost as if you need a file cabinet for the file cabinet.
It doesn't help that I throw things out, the piles keep growing. Sometimes, I have a nagging feeling that I need a paper copy, then remember I've got an excel workbook.
Okay now that frightens me. I've actually spent time and created a workbook that has all sorts of prof. stuff that I use. My question is, will I remember to use it or continue to hunt for an envelope that I scribbled a note on.
ARGH!
I've been trying to organize my work self the past couple of days and realized an immutable equation that frightens me. Writer = paper, paper = writer. I mean, if you write you've got papers everywhere. On tables, on the floor, in every room. Most of the stuff is research or press releases or some idle thought that may turn into a pitch...the papers keep growing. And growing. It's almost as if you need a file cabinet for the file cabinet.
It doesn't help that I throw things out, the piles keep growing. Sometimes, I have a nagging feeling that I need a paper copy, then remember I've got an excel workbook.
Okay now that frightens me. I've actually spent time and created a workbook that has all sorts of prof. stuff that I use. My question is, will I remember to use it or continue to hunt for an envelope that I scribbled a note on.
ARGH!
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