So, I finally got some of my photos digitized. The fuzziness has convinced me to go ahead and get the digital camera -- the cheap one. I'll get the high performance one later.
Enjoy these snippets of my life. Happy Halloween to all the ghouls and demons out there... I'm risking leaving the candy bowl out until about 7:30 when I get home from dance. Hopefully there won't be a riot over a bowl full of Dubble Bubble, Take 5s and mini boxes of Nerds... Oh yeah, depending on the browser, the following layout might seem wonkish. I post in Mozilla and it has strange effects....
Pics of the thundering herd skate session:
Pics of a recent tailgate with the master's kids:
Pics of the same master's kids at a Halloween Party. Aren't they goofy?
And finally, pics of the 4th of July outing in downtown Lawrenceville. We're upscale like that...
El Pesimista sent this to me last year and, because I'm attending an early Halloween Party tonight, I thought I'd share the funny. Retrocrush's Worst Halloween Costumes of all time. Dead hilarious. (Commentary can be slightly offensive...Mom...)
Oh yeah, and thanks to my dance compatriots for the compliments. I can't even tell you how good it made me feel...
Alright, so I never had any intention of using this forum as my personal diary and hopefully I'll cut it out. But after I write about this because it's been on my mind...
Two young men I met recently gently informed me that I tend to batter people over the head with my personality, specifically my need to prove to people how smart I am. I felt pretty cruddy about this for a few days -- not because they told me (they weren't snarky about it and I asked) -- but because I had this horrible, sickening twist in the belly thinking I was like one of those people that you can't wait to be away from.
But here's the thing, like Lloyd Dobler in Say Anything (Lloyd, Lloyd, all null and void -- Bob I can hear you laughing), I talk when I'm nervous. And why do Lloyd and I do this?
Boredom people.
The particular instance I believe they were referring to had me martyring myself on the cross of fringe social behavior (well, not really fringe. I wasn't like hanging from the ceiling or anything. Just engaging in a bit of prodding and poking to get reactions). It had little to nothing to do with some pathological need to prove my genius (heh, heh); it just so happens that mental acuity was the game at hand -- quite literally -- and so it was how the shake-up manifested itself. What I mean to say is that "proper" conduct and social niceties bore the ever lovin' spit out of me. I think that's why I've always liked Jane Austen and whoever wrote Gosford Park. They are so adept at pointing out the insidiousness and silliness of social convention. And so, I shake it up if I can, even if it means becoming a pariah in the process. In the moment (especially after a few beers...) I search for a way out of a situation I feel suffocating by causing a mini-riot, which is a lot safer than say, shooting up heroin or being overtly promiscuous to name a few extreme examples of how other people deal with this need to rebel. Some people hate me for it. And some love me. And so be it. Amen.
At first, I thought this tendency was in direct contrast to my hatred of the drama that I posted about the other day. But really, it's not so much about the drama. It's about stepping out of the "supposed to." I was actually secretly hoping someone would chuck a lamp at me or something. Let's get this party started ya'll!
As I get older, I realize that little earthquakes are the safest way to rebel. Rumble, rumble. Sometimes it's hard to reconcile a conservative nature with the unmitigated need to rebel against the everyday. I'm certain there's a way to do it and I just haven't thought of it yet. But I will because, didn't I tell you, I'm a genius...
And, while irrelevant to the topic at hand, this just cracked me up:
With a turtle name like "Wesley", you pretty much HAVE to go with a macho costume on Halloween. I bet all the turtle ladies in the tank are like—"OMG, who's the hottie?" and whipping out their little Turtle Sidekicks to text him.
Reegahdless, Wesley has snapped up Best Turtle Costume on the Planet Ever as far as I'm concerned. Also, I think his nose has a hole in it. Just sayin'.
Gravel snorts to sender-inner Jennfer H., and toitle owners Craig and Melanie :^)
Image courtesy of the Somber one (that's his Jedi name...). I believe he has a variant of this hanging at his desk. Given my propensity to attract the drama, I needed the reminder, and I thought I'd share. You can check out some of his other work here. Disturbing? yes. Heartbreaking? yes. That's the thing about my friend: he makes you think, and sometimes it's a bit uncomfortable. But always with the best intentions.
So here's the thing about Emeril's in Atlanta: it rocks. After my troubles with my former freelancing publication, I had serious doubts that the sour taste would leave my mouth. Good wine and ridiculous food helps with that.
The publication that picked me up sent me down the road to old Emeril's at Phipp's Plaza where I ate lunch with a lovely, and very cool, PR lady named Meg. I had pork loin and gumbo and BBQ shrimp and sorbet and pecan pie and banana creme pie and Italian cheese and two kinds of wine... . And it was all complimentary. I rolled my way out the door where the valet brought my car around (!) and made some pretty good contacts. I have several business cards now and I just want to call these folks just to chat. They were that cool. While the menu can be kinda pricey, I would highly recommend the place for a special night out. It just had that real cool vibe about it. And they have a wine tower that holds 10,000 bottles of wine. I mean, come on...
When the story runs, I'll make sure to post about it so you can see the photos. Thanks God for opening up that door while the echo of the one slamming shut still rung in my ears.
It's Friday and you ain't got s#*t to do. (I'm trying to quit cursing...)
you know what sucks? trying really, really hard to do the right thing and having it backfire. trusting people to watch your back and having them screw you. having those who know and love you then remind you that getting screwed is your own responsibility because you have this unbelievable tendency to confide too much in people too soon. I swear I'm still only 16 sometimes...
in better news, I was creating a masterpeice of organizational theory last night while Rachel Ray's Tasty Travels was playing ambiently in the background (huge, HUGE, Food Network fan am I), and the topic was the best BBQ in the country and I'll be damned if she didn't go to Fat Matt's in Atlanta, where the college friends and I (it's old home week apparently) spent a killer night listening to sexy blues and feasting on ridiculous amounts of BBQ and beer. It just took me back to see old Fat Matt's. *sigh*
UPDATE: I had some maudlin Peter Murphy here but I think I'm more interested in this song because it's what my dance teacher JB choreographed our last lyrical combination to (holy dangling participle...). I like it. I have a pretty big contusion on the ol' knee as a result of some sloppy hip-hoppin' on my part and, wouldn't you know, the lyrical combo the next day was all over the floor. on our knees. But I busted it out and so this song resonates for me. No greater bonding tool than some good old fashioned pain...
As I was sitting under a tree Saturday listening to the sounds of football nearby, my friend Bob called out of nowhere and chastised me for not living in the DC area where she, her husband and their little bit Sophie live. I reminded Robin (Bob) that my grandfather was from downtown DC (Anacostia. Very scary now; lovely in ancient black and white photos I've purloined from my mother), and that my maternal grandparents home is in Maryland on the Potomac. So wielding the beauty of the area over me does no good -- I know from my youth.
But it did get me thinking --- I could live there. Apparently every last one of my college friends has somehow ended up in the area. Bob, Jen, Jiggy, Kurt... why this convergence of crazies has occurred I do not know.
I'm just thinkin' is all. No decisions yet.
Congrats Lizzie D on the cool new baby Gibran. Thank God. I do worry about the next generation and I find the anxiety lessens when my friends reproduce. I'm sure he'll be brilliant, opinionated and a fantastic soccer player.
Now I have to find a "reception cake" shaped like a bulldog or I ruin my brother's wedding. The pressure...
My friend Tlr and I were hanging around last night and discussing how Justin Timberlake may have suceeded in actually bringing sexy back. Tlr said, "he's not necessarily attractive but damn he's sexy!"
Indeed.
But here's the question: considering Ryan Gosling shared the Mickey Mouse Club stage with dapper Timberlake, and Ryan Gosling is also quite the handsome one, what was it about the MMC that made the guys turn out beeeoootiful and the girls -- and I think we all know who I'm referring to here -- turn out kinda skanky. I'm aware that I should be ostracized from society for even pondering these things but sometimes I'm just curious, okay?
Cassandra has a great outline of what it means to be conservative over at Villainous Company. Go ahead -- free your mind...
It takes longer than four years to butcher a relationship
This is really all you need to know.
"In U.S.-North Korea relations, the initial breakthrough occurred in October 1994 when U.S. negotiators persuaded North Korea to freeze its nuclear program, with onsite monitoring by U.N. inspectors. In exchange, the United States, with input from South Korea and Japan, promised major steps to ease North Korea's acute energy shortage." I see this every day; back room politicking where parties agree to, in this case, supply the funds for a nuclear program while calling it implementing "major steps to ease North Korea's acute energy shortage."
Does anybody buy this BS? Apparently John McCain did not. Gold star for you Arizona Senator.
For you my Somber friend. I appreciate the chat. So, as thanks, I tried to find something to make you giggle like a little girl. I couldn't find a video of this:
So I thought I'd give you the following. I know you've seen -- and enjoyed -- it before. But it never fails to be funny. So laugh a little. "If you don't think this song is the greatest song ever, I will fight you. That's no lie."
I've been having these weird moments of tragic self-awareness (thanks for the terminology Mary) wherein I realize I am at any given moment obnoxious, a know-it-all, a bee-otch, selfish, insecure, fantastic, stupid, brilliant, stone-cold rational and certifiably insane. It wouldn't bother me too much but I fear it damages my relationships. Please bear with me. I, like just about everyone else, am a work in progress. I'm just slightly more insecure about it.
Speaking of which, have you seen these "Who does depression hurt?" commercials? I'm not sure it's a good idea to tell someone who's depressed (who, obviously, would be the core audience for this type of marketing) that their depression hurts "everyone." Sort of defeats the point of trying to help the person when you piling more guilt on their stooped shoulders.
I'm a dork. Just wanted to clear that up in the event anyone read the following and feel surprised at the total lack of coolness it displays. I'm a geek. A nerd. A certifiable doofus. I wear glasses a lot of the time and get really, really excited when I hear that Thomas Cahill has a new book out.
The Killers new album dropped this week, too; my mentioning it does not make me any cooler of course.
Okay, so I get an email from Lord Somber the other day that says, in the subject line, "Herty Field fountain, 2:30, today."
This beautiful image was inside. He drew it freehand with a pencil and a felt pen and then painted and blurred it in photoshop.
Gorgeous.
So Lord (secretly optimistic but terrified the world will know it) Somber, how can I commission a larger version of this so I can hang it in my office? I'm serious...
ah, a week off from work...what to do, what to do? yeah, right...
I need to give a shout out to my folks, who celebrated their wedding anniversary Sunday. They've been married a million years and have somehow figured out how to make it work, something that statistically is apparently very difficult. I'm so proud of them. They're good eggs.
And here's a thought for the day, taken from the Marquise de Custine's book La Russie en 1839 in which he describes his three-month journey through Russia at the time when Communism was heating up full-force:
"The taste for military reviews is pushed in Russia to the point of madness. I am not moved to laughter.; puerility on a vast scale is to me an appalling thing ... it is only with blindly submissive peoples that a ruler can demand immense sacrifices to produce trifles...One asks oneself what [such men] can do with their excess of thought and you feel uncomfortable at the idea of the force that had to be exerted against intelligent beings to succeed in making them only things."
Militaristic shows of devotion ... blindly submissive populace ... humans used as things ... does any of this sound familar? And, if you're tempted to say "Why yes, our country does this?" think again. Only here can someone roundly, openly and maliciously speak out about their government without being immediately tossed into prison or worse. So check yourself.
As for me, I rather enjoy the fact that I'm not covered from head to foot so as not to entice men into bad behavior, and that I'm not forced to perform in large-scale militaristic dance routines for the approval of a speck of a dictator who waves his hand while gleefully sending me off to war because, let's face it, to refuse is to risk yours -- and your family's -- lives. And that I'm not forced to accept sub-par standardized health care and education because a central precept in my country is that the individual is a powerful force and is expected to excel.
I quietly rebel against those I meet here who sup at the bounty of their native country and then proclaim that it's a bad place and they'd much prefer a different, easier system. It gets me into trouble sometimes. But here lately, I think it might be worth it in the long run.
Custine exemplifies the French attitude. They are piercingly adept at observation and they can call it exactly as it is. They just come up short when asked to fight for it. I hope, when the time comes, and I think it's on it's way, they'll stand by their powers of observation and refuse puerility. Liberte, egalite, fraternite.
