"One-way streets and square one, The answers don't come from any one direction"
I live in Chicago with my boyfriend T and our mini-menagerie of 3 cats and 2 dogs. I have very little of world-changing importance to contribute but I like to see my words in print so I blog.
Apropos of Nothing
Awesome
City Wendy in the Windy City
Cruel Irony
Desperate Common Law Wives
Dooce
Eat A Peach for Love
EJShea
Finslippy
Fussy
Go Fug Yourself
Gripe du Jour
In My Life
Jen and Tonic
Jen Fu
Loobylu
Matilda Zine
Mighty Girl
Mihow
Mimi Smartypants
Not Well Planned
Pesky Apostrophe
Pound
Pretty Crabby
Que Sera Sera
Scott Bateman
Sheets and Blankets
Sparkwood & 21
Styrofoam Kitty
Suburban Bliss
Sweetney
The Anchored Nomad
The MidwestGrrl
The Redhead Papers
Things I Am Over
TranceJen
Very Zen
Weetabix
today
January 2008
August 2007
February 2007
September 2006
August 2006
July 2006
June 2006
May 2006
April 2006
March 2006
February 2006
January 2006
December 2005
November 2005
October 2005
September 2005
August 2005
July 2005
June 2005
May 2005
April 2005
March 2005
visited *loading* times
I waited until 5:00pm today to do my photo project that is due tomorrow. I am not proud of being such a procrastinator but there was a whole lot of other work due in all my classes this week. The good news is that my procrastiniation did not hurt me. In fact, I think I got some good shots:
There was a lovely light today and some of the critters felt like posing;
Maggie 
Ernie
Ernie's Noir Photo
Puck the Round Cat
Kato the Evil Skinny Cat Who Will Not Pose
Emily (who is not as fat as she appears in this photo)
I have said it before and I'll say it again: I am so sickened by the horrifying lyrics I have managed to store away in my overloaded memory banks over the years.
Last night I was driving home from class. A song came on the radio and I started singing along. It actually took me a couple of seconds to realize what it was: Jewel. Mother F'ing Jewel! And not the big hit but the one about the small hands. I knew every blessed word.
Now, I know there was a good portion of the '90's that I spent medicated. I was on a number of anti-anxiety and anti-depressant medications. I spent about a year and half on fairly healthy doses of V!codin due to chronic endometriosis. So, I suppose there is a lot of wiggle room on just how responsible or cognizant I was during this time period. But, damn. Really? Jewel? Lord help me.
I am a whiner. One of the main things that keeps me from posting is the ever-present black cloud of whining and weeping that hangs over me. I don't think anyone wants to read about how unfair my life is. Because, really, all of the crap is of my own making. I have a long proud history of making exactly the wrong decision. Of disregarding the little annoying voice of reason. Of going firmly forward with plans that are doomed. My life is a cautionary tale. Gather your selves around and learn from my stupidity.
The number 1 spot on my list of Big-Dumb-Ideas-That-I-Should-Have-Known-Better-About (BDITISHKBA) would have to be awarded to my first marriage. I was 22 and very inexperienced in the real world and how things work. I moved far away from my family to the big city of Chicago to live with the first man who ever told me he loved me. All the warning signs of incompatability were there. The fact that we met and bonded over a six pack of beer at a punk rock show should have been my first clue. But things were crazy and hazy and romantic. And he loved me. So, I packed up my stuff and moved to live with him. There are any number of things I could tell you. Big glaring ugly faults on both sides. But, here's the thing, I stayed with him. Accepted his proposal. Planned a wedding. Got pregnant during the planning of the wedding. And walked down the aisle on my father's arm thinking, "This is never going to work. I give it about a year." I think if you squint a little you can actually see a little thought bubble with those words in it over my head in the pictures.
Now, I can claim youth. I can claim naivete. I can claim anything I want but it all boils down to bad choices and stupidity. No matter what, this should not be the over-riding thought on your wedding day. The only thing I can say in my defense was that it was so far along in the planning and I was so exhausted from the pregnancy that I did not have the energy to change my mind. My family would not have objected. There was no good reason.
There was, however, a rocky three year period of breakups and separations and reconciliations and crazy, crazy hell that followed. My firm belief is that I cannot spend a lot of energy regretting all of my bad decisions. It is now many years later and we have been divorced for a good long time. We have made our peace and can carry on a civilized conversation. Hell, Ex-Husband #1 attended my son's birthday party and we all sat around and talked about the old days. This has passed. But what I would not give to go back and have 5 minutes with that pale and nauseous young woman with all of the doubts and indecision.
This weekend I went for a massage. Because all of the crazy decisions and work overloads and plans that I make for myself have turned me into a whining ball of stress and I needed to unwind a little. I was led to the quiet room by a young lady who would be giving me my massage. She got me all situated and began the massage. And there was a bit of conversation. The inevitable questions about my tattoos. I have been answering these questions in these situations forever. It's no big thing. We talked about some of the causes of my stress. My work and my school and my nature. She was lovely and soothing and she listened. Somewhere along the way the subject of marriage came up. She was recently engaged. I mentioned that I had been married and divorced. She said she always hates to hear about divorce because of her engagement. So I told her. I am not against marriage. I think that it a wonderful thing and that it works for a lot of people. My sister and her husband were meant to be together. They make it work. But I think if you find yourself walking down the aisle with the thoughts of divorce already in your head it is not the best beginning.
This was at the end of the massage. I was sitting up and we were face to face for the first time. And she told me that she had huge doubts. That she was really unsure about her future with her husband to be. That she was pretty much going forward because she was caught in the momentum. That she really felt in her heart that it would not work. And she thanked me for my honesty. She said it was something that she needed to hear and that no one else had said it to her.
Sometimes you begin a post. You have overcome all of the negativity that has plagued you for the last several days. The whining and hand wringing that has (wisely) kept you from trying to post. You feel refreshed and ready to share your little weekend with the internet. So, you begin blithely typing and typing and about the time you get to the middle of the story you inadvertently hit the wrong key and page backwards in the browser effectively deleting the entire thing.
You have just spent several minutes detailing how much more calm you are. How you have gone for a massage and a haircut and spent the evening in front of the television. How you are feeling more collected and centered and ready to face the challenges. And then with the stroke of one single key you are drawn up short in your celebration. There may be some cursing and maybe even a little foot stomp of pique. Ah, yes, it is Monday.
Anyway, I ended the week in a fit of despair and exhaustion. Melted down over everything and retreated to bed for a nap. Fortunately, I saw the meltdown warning signs and called to schedule a massage. A one hour Swedish massage for Saturday. I would love to say that I emerged from the lovely massage room cleansed of all my stress and tension. That all of the knots and kinks had been magically removed. But these things have been so long in the making that it will take more than one massage to undo them. However, I was much refreshed and renewed. And reeking of lavender oil. And ready to face my haircut without opting for a military crewcut. Yes, there is the ease of care but the style is oh-so-very 1983 for me. Cooler heads prevailed and I emerged with my customary hair style.
Saturday night we had tickets to Bob Mould. At the Old Town School of Folk Music. These two things would normally constitute a pretty good night out in my book. But I was feeling not so very social and so I opted to stay home on the couch with the puppies and watch BBC America all night. By all accounts the show was quite good and I probably would have enjoyed it. I was fearful that I would have a public meltdown or feel the need to punch someone, so it was better that I stayed home.
On Sunday I began my sock knitting class. It is a lovely thing. I am really going to enjoy this.
So, it is official. I have reached new heights of nerditude. Nerdosity? Nerd-ness?
I have begun and then scrapped about five posts for today. I am in a bit of a funky/crabby/whiny mood right now. Different from my usual funky/crabby/whiny mood if only in intensity and volume. I have begun to think about how "the man" is keeping me down and working up a good deal of resentment. I am thinking I may need to dye my hair blue or pink and get some hipster clothes and start listening to a lot of emo if this mood lasts. Because, man, I am oppressed and depressed and I may have perfected this state to a fine artform.
There is not a good reason for the mope-itude. Not a concrete, easily summarized and defined reason. Just folks are pissing me off.
Monday night was photography class. I had to go because there was an assignment due and a critique with mandatory participation. I arrived prepared. I had my photos. I had them saved on a jump drive and deposited them into the teacher's drop box as instructed. And then we waited. For another hour. While everyone diddled around and did a bunch of last minute editing. So, by the time we got to the critique I was just this side of a high boiling rage. But we were at least doing something and it is interesting to look at other people's work.
Here's the thing. I won't go into a whole long boring technical explanation but just explain that the way we were reviewing the work was by looking at the files on our individual computer monitors. The thing about this is that every monitor displays a little differently. There is a process by which you can calibrate a monitor but if you are viewing work done on another computer it is going to look a little different. Unless you print it out. But we did not print our photos for this assignment.
We begin the critique. We have a lot of work to get through. One of the women in the class begins to nitpick the photos based on technical terms like highlights and shadow detail. Things that cannot be assessed accurately in this format. I listen to it for awhile. I am biting the inside of my cheeks because the instructor is just letting her drone on and on. Finally, after 25 minutes of this and only 6 pictures into the critique, I can't take it anymore. So I point out that the nitpicky comments are not relevant. That the picture she is in the middle of picking apart appears quite differently on my monitor. And the instructor pulls his head out of his ass long enough to agree with me and suggest that we confine our comments to composition and relevance and some very general technical aspects.
I felt kind of bitchy. I made an effort to keep my voice neutral. I think what I had to say was helpful.
My first instinct was to wrap all of the stupid straps from her hipster-wannabe-bondage-pants-circa-2000-or -so around her throat and pull hard.
I think I went the right way on this one.
T got me the most appropriate thing ever for Valentine's Day:
Yesterday I had something to talk about. I was all set. But the server was down. Something about upgrading to make the service better. But I had words to type and thoughts to set down here. And, by the time the server was back up and functional, I had no more time and no more energy. I am very easily discouraged. But I will try to reconstruct my fabulous post that never happened from yesterday.
On Friday I took a mental health day off from work. It was an emergency and it warranted the day off. I was fearful that if I went to work I would tell someone to fuck off or just punch them in the groin. Those were my only problem-solving skills for Friday. Instead I stayed home and watched a bit of television and knitted and cleaned the kitchen. Because when I want to pamper myself I go all out.
My Friday mental health day turned into a mental health weekend. Pyjamas were the wardrobe of choice. Again with the rock and roll lifestyle. But I managed to watch a number of movies this weekend. Most of which everyone else on the planet has already seen. But I enjoyed them. Reviews are as follows:
Charlie & the Chocolate Factory: I don't know what all the fuss was about. I thought the movie was okay. I did not think that it took away from the first version and I love the first version. I liked the visual feel and the darkness. I think it was a bit more Roald Dahl than the first movie. Roald Dahl writes kind of dark books. I love that about his writing. Johnny Depp was a bit weird but I think it was appropriate. I don't think they were trying to re-make the Gene Wilder character and they should not have.
Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Wererabbit: I love Wallace & Gromit. The short movies were some of my son's favorites when he was younger. We watched them together. When they announced this movie I was excited. I planned on attending with my son. Then he went with his girlfriend. And they would not allow me to tag along on their date. Because, apparently, it is not "cool" to bring your mom along on a date. Damned ungrateful child! So, I was in a pissy snit and I did not go to see this in the theater. But T bought it for me on DVD and now I can watch it whenever I want. And I can pause it whenever my son comes in the room and I can hide the DVD from him and just generally be a brat about the whole thing. I may get more guilt mileage out of this than the story of his birth and the no pain drugs and the hours of labor.
Ocean's Twelve: This is a very pretty group of people and the movie was not wholly un-entertaining. Glad I did not pay money to see it though.
Kill Bill Vol II - I knew there was a lot of gore in these movies. So, even though I was interested in seeing them, I did not go to the theater. I am a big baby when it comes to the violence and gore. I have been known to come close to passing out due to excessive violence. I thought that this movie was okay. I am not sure where I stand on Uma Thurman. Sometimes she irritates me.
Hide & Seek: Okay, I did not have any desire to see this in the theater. It looked kind of bad in the previews. I kept trying to give Robert Deniro the benefit of the doubt. I kept thinking that there was something that must have been good about this movie. But it turns out to be a really lame "Sixth Sense" kind of rip-off with a very ratty looking Dakota Fanning in the Haley Joel Osment role and Robert Deniro being out-acted by Bruce Willis. Shame on you Robert Deniro. Unless you just needed the money. Are you having some financial difficulties? Should we hold a telethon? I can send the $8 I would have wasted on this movie had I gone to the theater. I think some other people might be willing to do so as well. Especially if it means you won't do another horrible movie for awhile. Think about it.
Foxes: I am sad to say that the folks over at Byrne Unit beat me to the punch on the review of this one. I am happy to say that my Tivo may have started loving me again. All the proof I needed of this was to be found in the form of a little love offering: "Foxes". This is a horribly dramatic teen, coming of age movie starring Jody Foster and Cherie Curran and Scott Baio and Randy Quaid. It was showing on the Sundance Channel which was puzzling but maybe it was because Adrian Lyne directed it. There are many reasons I love this movie. The clothes, the hair, the nostalgia. But the best explanation I can give you is that it reminds me so very much of my group of friends when I was that age. The movie came out when I was 16. We were those girls in way too many ways. Read this and see if you don't think it could have fit right in the storyline with very little editing. Maybe without all of the Donna Summers on the soundtrack.
I have been tagged for a meme by the lovely Ms. Mincemeat Vixen. This is my first ever meme, try to be gentle.
4 jobs you've held
1. Bartender/Waitress: Not the worst job I ever had although it makes the top five. Just a note for your edification: you are not that funny when you are drunk and the forced smile I maintain in the face of your idiocy makes my face cramp. Plus, working for coked out freaks is not fun.
2. Several incarnations of clerical/accounting office-type drone: This is the most soul-sucking work on earth. I have worked for some real jerks. Worst boss ever earned the nickname "The Imperial Wizard". He distributed Halocaust Denial literature in the office and used wite-out to remove the Martin Luther King holiday from all of the office calendars.
3. Baskin-Robbins ice cream scooper: Not the worst job ever. Not even in the top five. Highlights included being robbed and all of the free ice cream I could eat. This being the college years, the ice cream outweighed the danger.
4. Telemarketer: Okay, this one is the worst job ever. Number one on the list. It took me a month to figure out that this was a telephone scam purportedly raising funds for underpriveledged children. I think they were just pocketing the money. It made me want to shower in scalding water after every shift.
4 places you've lived
1. Albuquerque, New Mexico - It sounds romantic (sort of in a cowboy/western sort of way) and it can be very beautiful but it was a horrible place for me.
2. Adak, Alaska: My father was in the Navy and we were stationed there in the early 70's. It was a great place to be a kid because it was a closed community and we ran free.
3. Nantucket, Massachusetts: Another one of the places my father was stationed. I want to live there again. It is absolutely beautiful and idyllic..
4. Key West, Florida: Another place my father was stationed. I was born there. Want to go back.
4 movies you'd watch over and over
1. The Princess Bride: It just never gets old.
2. The Shootist/The Quiet Man : These ones are a couple of my father's favorites. They make me nostalgic.
3. The Apartment: Shirley Maclaine and Jack Lemmon are scrumptious.
4. Breakfast At Tiffany's: Audrey Hepburn makes me want to be more girly and glamourous.
4 TV Shows I watch
1. The Law and Order shows
2. The CSI shows
3. Veronica Mars - If you haven't watched this yet, you need to, I am completely addicted.
4. House
Four places I’ve vacationed
1. Honolulu, Hawaii : Beautiful.
2. Kona, Hawaii: More beautiful.
3. Orlando, Florida: Meh. It's nice but I could live with not going back there.
4. Charlevoix, Michigan: Coldest 4th of July I ever spent.
Four of my favorite dishes:
1. Chicken Vindaloo
2. Duck liver pate with all of the cornichons and mustards and toast points
3. Greek salads with extra feta cheese.
4. Steak Au Poivre
4 sites I visit every day
1. Go Fug Yourself
2. Overheard In The Office
3. Salon
4. Everyone on my blog list
4 places I'd rather be right now
1. Hawaii
2. A very sparsely populated desert isle.
3. Somewhere in the Mediterranean
4. The spa for an all day treat.
4 people I'm going to tag with this:
Consider yourself tagged Byrne Unit.
I have my first project for my photography class due next week. The theme: Abstract Photography. Good theme because it allows a lot of leeway for content. I am sad to admit that I am a little less than enthused by this class. It is a very basic Photo Shop class and the instructor has an annoying habit of following every statement with "mmkay?". I fully expect him to bring in a hand puppet.
Here is the project so far:
Thank God for all of the dead stuff in my yard and the abundance of captive wildlife in my home. Subject matter for the entire semester.
This weekend began with plans. For movie-viewing and shopping and photo-taking. I had high hopes to attend showings of one or several of the Oscar nominated films currently showing at our conveniently located downtown theater. I had "Memoirs of a Geisha" firmly at the top of the list. It is not so much that this is my first choice but I am still collecting reparations from T's choices of "Reign of Fire" and "Gangs of New York". Yes we went to see them many years ago but my delicate psyche still remains damaged from the viewing of these two atrocities. In the theater. One of them in a very over-crowded theater.
The other choices were "Syriana", "Good Night and Good Luck" and "Capote". Any or all of which are on my list of movies I would like to see. Alas I was seduced on Saturday night by the call of the Netflix movies. Movies that did not require me to be clothed in anything more fancy than pyjamas. Movies that could be paused for potty breaks and during which I could knit and /or sew. And so, we watched "Word Wars" and "Rize" on Saturday night. I would recommend both of them. The first is about the Scrabble tournament world. It is crazy and the competitors they focus on are freaks. The second was filmed by David La Chappelle - not to be confused with Dave Chappelle - he is this crazy fashion photographer, former protege of Andy Warhol and I generally like his work. It is all a bit surreal and wonderful. But this film is about the "krumping" dance movement in the economically depressed areas of Los Angeles. It is beautifully shot and the story is quite compelling.
Friday night was spent - or at least several hours were spent - setting up my Etsy shop. It is a time-consuming process involving several steps and the uploading of photos. Please go there and give me some feedback. What do you think?
Sunday I awoke with the need for eggs. After a short debate it was decided that my son and his girlfriend would join us. They having had separate plans for lunch. But we decided on a place that accomodated everyone and went our merry way. A lovely morning - or what passes for my Sunday version of morning - was spent laughing and joking. And, most importantly, consuming eggs. We then went back home and I spent some time shooting photos for my first project and converting them in Photo Shop. This was followed by a trip to Target. Nothing says "end of the weekend" like Sunday night at Target. It was meant to be a quick trip to allow for possible movie attending afterwards but I became trapped in the vortex/alternate universe that is Target. And so no movies were viewed this weekend.
There was very big news this weekend. News about which I am simultaneously bursting with pride and wiping away big fat tears. My son got his acceptance letter from Kent State. It is now official. In seven months he will be going far away and beginning his big new life. I could not be more proud of him or more sad thinking about him being so far away.
I have a very lovely and very thoughtful Secret Pal. I just received a package and it was overflowing with goodies. I am feeling ever so fancy right now.
First of all it smells like heaven. There is cranberry Body Butter, yummy looking chocolate (I have enough self control that I have not ripped it open quite yet). Some absolutely scrumptious yarn - lots of it, my favorite needles ( favorite brand and perfect size) and a lovely needle case. Lavender & sage soap, cranberry candles and a gorgeous hanging candle holder. I can see it out on the patio first thing come Springtime. And the most perfect card with a photo of funky flowers and an Anais Nin quote.
And just when you think it is over:
This absolutely beautiful scarf. Personally handmade for me by my ever so wonderful Secret Pal. It is the most lacy thing and so very light and airy.
Last night I had a long convoluted dream. Towards the end I met a cute young guy at a Celtics game. He was very interested in me and persuaded me to go back to his place. Once we got there we shared a very chaste kiss and washed dishes.
What the hell kind of dream is that?
I have spent a goodly amount of time over the last several weeks chiding my son about his lack of organization and preparedness with regard to his school work. We have purchased many supplies to aid in his better organizing himself and thereby avoiding the instances in which he arrives in class unprepared. It has been quite the project. I emphasized that he needed to find his own system. We needed to discuss possible methods and come up with something that would be uniquely suited to him.
By way of demonstration I showed him my own method. It is not a complex method. I keep a separate notebook for each subject. I label the notebooks and folders. I review my syllabi before each class to ensure that I am prepared. It is something of a necessity given my current schedule.
So, he has arranged a system and he is attempting to stick with it. I am trying to be supportive. And not too smug about my own superior organizational skills.
Thus the karma has struck.
In my Humanities class we begin with short essays about the reading. We are reading "All the King's Men". Not a problem. I had the reading done. I had even gone online and reviewed the study notes for the book. I was prepared. I ran out of time on the second essay about "Roshomon" but I managed to get down the salient points. Then we proceed with the discussion. The teacher outlines the topics. We will be discussing the last two chapters of reading and we will be going over the topics for our papers. The official topics are due. Today. Guess what? I don't have a topic. But I pull out a piece of paper and figure I can come up with something while the talking is going on. And so, of course, he begins with me
I scramble for a minute and then I look down and see a note I had made when he first brought up the assignment. He had explained that we were to write a paper on a topic and use as our reference three forms of "the Humanities" to demonstrate the artistic representation of ths topic. I had made a couple of examples for myself based on things that I knew about. And so, I am writing a paper on "Women's Issues and Societal Roles" using Margaret Atwood's "A Handmaid's Tale", the play "A Doll's House" by Henrik Ibsen and "The Dinner Table" by Judy Chicago. Curiously enough, the young soft-butch possibly lesbian girl wanted to be my friend after class.
In other news, I have finally listed some of the pincushions on Etsy. You can see them here. If you need a beautiful pincushion here's your chance. They make great gifts.
I am interested in the concept of performing some sort of de-frag on my brain. The idea came to me this morning on my way to work. I don't know if I need a de-frag or a reformat but something has to be done
The other night, on my way home from school, I was driving in my car and listening to the radio. It is a short drive so I usually allow myself to be content with whatever crappy offering the radio has playing. I started singing along with the next song that came on the radio. I was interested to note that I knew all of the lyrics. Not just the chorus or the catchy parts but every single damned lyric. The song: "Take It On The Run" by REO Speedwagon. Imagine my consternation.
Here's the thing. I did not actively listen to REO Speedwagon or Journey or Sytx or Loverboy or any of those bands. Sure, I had a lot of friends that listened to them. I surely heard the songs on the radio. But I did not seek them out. I did not own the albums. Why do I know the lyrics?
The disturbing thing is that there are so very many other things that I cannot remember. Names of common objects, the US Constitution, the names of people I know, the rules of grammar. Useful things. That I could use in my everyday life. Information that would benefit me.
Instead I am stuck with the lyrics to bad songs by bad bands. I go to my memory to figure out how to properly construct a sentence and I find the cupboard bare. In the back corner, covered in cobwebs, I discover the lyrics to the entire catalog of Foreigner. Dust them off and they are dewy fresh and ready for immediate use.
So, here I am wondering if electro-shock therapy would be of benefit. Serving the purpose of a defrag for my memory banks. There is certainly enough useless information floating around. I am not proposing that we completely dispose of the entire mess. Perhaps just run a little program that files everything in neatly labeled, easily accessible files and cleans up all of the little gaps.
Something to make the machine run a little more efficiently, as it were.
I have decided that I am going to devote this blog to pictures of mittens. To that end, I present, my son's new mitten:
on the stomach of a very fat cat.
It is art.
I am currently enjoying a mini-vacation due to my boss's absence for today and tomorrow. Yay!
Flush from my success with the mittens I have begun a very stripey pair for my son. Colors at his request: main color is chocolate brown with stripes of pumpkin, marigold, newport blue and fresh green. Pictures soon. Mittens seem to be quite do-able. I have my eyes on some larger projects. And I have signed up for a class on sock knitting. It is conveniently scheduled on Sunday.
The party was a ripping success and a good time was had by all. I think the turn out was pretty good in spite of the fact that most children apparently have not a clue what RSVP means. The secret was contained and we managed to pull off the surprise with no suspicion on the part of my son. I guess having been crazy and wildly unpredictable for all of these years has paid off. There was much pizza consumed. There was a great cake.
After much consultation about the theme, we decided to have the picture from the invitation put on the cake. It was really good. And my son, good-natured child that he is, thought it was hilarious. He was even a bit disappointed that I had not gone ahead with my idea of having t-shirts made with the photo. His friends loved the chubby little guy.
Then the party was over. I decided that in keeping with the theme of honoring my son's youth, I would prepare goody treat bags for the party goers. They were a hit. Stickers and games and bubbles and, of course, Silly String.
