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Meg and various other things
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| Critics Are Dumb |
[23 Jan 2011|01:16pm] |
DISCLAIMER: I didn't really have any other home for this rant other than LJ, so forgive me if you don't really care.
Last night I went to see Green Hornet. I never saw the original Bruce Lee version. I never read any comics. All I knew was that I saw the preview in the theater several times and laughed every single time it crossed the screen. I have always loved super hero movies, being an action/comedy fan, and have seen almost every single one in theaters (I avoided X-Men 3 like the plague and have yet to view Iron Man 2...the latter being laziness on my part). Green Hornet has been compared, quite wrongly, to Bad Ass because it leans so heavily on comedy. Bad Ass was NOT pure comedy. It was funny, but it was very dark. Very, very dark. Green Hornet was not dark at all. I would compare Green Hornet more to Rush Hour with a bit more over-the-top flair.
( I won't try to argue why this movie should beat Black Swan for an Academy Award. That would be dumb. Like a critic. )
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[03 Nov 2010|12:25pm] |
I should be running to work right now, this very second, as I am typing in my LiveJournal and pretending the clock doesn't say 12:24, but I realized suddenly that it is November 3rd and I wanted to do NaNo this year.
Do I owe 8,000 some words already or let that go and finish the 30 day meme?
I will contemplate this again as I speed to work.
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| Drinks |
[07 Aug 2010|08:02pm] |
I have been able to try a lot more mixed drinks lately because I have been able to go out, but I keep getting these awesome suggestions from people. Ali, especially with her grape kneehighs that I want now! I saw another weird yet cool looking drink from someone I follow on Tumblr. She had it at Back Forty, which I now wish I'd gone to while I was in NY.
I'm not really a huge fan of tequila, but I might try and make this myself.
THE RED AND THE BLACK
Spice rim:
Yields 12 servings
2 tbsp sugar
1 tbsp kosher salt
1 tbsp freshly ground black pepper
Combine ingredients in a bowl. Mixture keeps for three months in an airtight container. When preparing the drink, pour some of the spice mixture onto a plate, moisten a rocks glass with the black pepper simple syrup (see below) then dip the glass into the spice mixture.
Black pepper simple syrup:
Yields 12 servings
1 oz coarsely ground black pepper
Sugar
Water
Combine equal parts sugar and water to make a pint of simple syrup. Heat until dissolved. Let cool completely. Add black pepper to syrup. Refrigerate overnight in a closed container. Pour syrup through a fine mesh strainer into a bottle.
The drink:
3 greenmarket strawberries
2 oz reposado tequila
1 oz black pepper simple syrup
1 oz fresh lime juice
Muddle strawberries in a cocktail shaker. Add tequila, black pepper simple syrup, fresh lime juice, and ice. Shake vigorously and pour into spice-rimmed rocks glass.
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[21 Jul 2010|12:21am] |
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My mission in life next week is to generate good karma through good deeds. Karma will hopefully inspire more poems.
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| Improv is Awesome |
[15 Jul 2010|09:15am] |
I always like watching what Improv Everywhere comes up with. But this one is something I think Mila would especially love.
Highlights from their article:
One thing we learned is that almost every human will immediately take out their camera when they see Darth Vader."
"He didn’t have great visibility out of his mask, so someone needed to be there in case he needed help. It felt like the two of us were on our own mini-mission. It was hilarious to see Darth Vader standing all by himself at the end of a subway platform, patiently waiting on the train."
"Vader got all kinds of funny looks from people as they passed by or gawked at him from across the tracks. At one point, a young guy came up to him and said, “Sith Lord, would it be OK if I took your photo?”
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| Really? |
[13 Jul 2010|09:58pm] |
I would have never thought I write like the guy who wrote Fight Club.
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[29 Jun 2010|02:51am] |
Me and July heat are at war a few days early.
Maybe this is why I am up so late all the time.
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[16 May 2010|02:36pm] |
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I did it, finally. Now I just have to wait up to 8 months for TBR to reject me. I guess I have to come up with some new poems to send out. Iambic pentameter?
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| *sneak* |
[07 May 2010|06:58pm] |
God my store is hot. I am doing what I can to take breaks and sit in front of the little cooling unit in the office, but I still just feel gross. I haven't posted in LJ, except about depressing stuff or poetry, so I figured I might as well jot down something quick while I have the chance.
Work is okay. I like that the weight of the world isn't on my shoulders anymore. It annoys me that people don't just do things that are common sense, but I can usually forgive the stupidity if only because I am not nearly as stressed about it as I used to be. And let's be honest, anything is better than Radioshack.
My streak of financial screw ups is starting to subside, but I am still scraping for cash. I wish I could get overtime, but my company doesn't offer it and I'm salary. I keep thinking about picking up a second job. I don't know of anything flexible enough to suit an everchanging management schedule though, outside of maybe sending poetry out again. But getting money on contest writing is spotty and somewhat based on luck. Anyone need a babysitter?
The only things I have really been slacking on are chores. I feel bad. I keep being lazy on my days off and I should be attempting to be more productive. It's awesome to be lazy, especially when I get to be lazy with Bryce, but man do I need to do laundry. And finish cleaning the bathroom. And weed. Once I get into it, I usually end up like cleaning. I just need the momentum. Although it was great to write all day on Tuesday. I had a lot of fun with Caeleste and seeing everyone online again was kind of like old times. I miss crazy writing days.
We're trying to go to New York to see Q in June. The logistics are kind of hard to hammer out, since we're trying to go on the cheap. I wish I knew more about the train and taking public transit into the city. I'll have to sit down at the computer and spend sometime rooting through google.
Oh well. Time to go crack the whip. Hey, this wasn't so depressing was it? Ha.
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| a contemplative side, shaken out by my chattering teeth |
[03 Jan 2010|03:18pm] |
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mood |
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I am not good at using online journals any more, but maybe I should teach myself how again. Over the past year (or two) I've become too practiced in internalizing what I think and feel. I'm not talking about when politics or Brian Williams' shiny smile overtake a conversation. I'm talking about things like wounds left from failed performances, how someone hurt and earned a rare grudge from me, the state of a catatonic family member, or how a giant spear of meaningless work made my confidence bleed on the floor. I just don't write about that stuff. I don't even talk about it with anyone. I want to speak more on how I feel, but this barrier I have built up makes me freeze, almost every time. I hate it if only because silence allows others to interpret what I feel and state their own interpretation as fact. I can never defend myself against that because I am so out of practice that I make NO sense when I finally speak out.
There is nothing more annoying than someone telling me how I feel. It's like I have to submit to some invisible narrator's description of me. Whenever someone argues with me about what I think, I restrain the FUCK YOU that wants to leap out of my throat and slap him/her in the face. I could argue opinions all day. That I don't mind. But I know my own thoughts. I'm not crazy (yet). I just don't do well at expressing...
Poetry used to save me, to some extent. I have not written poetry in a while. I think that has a lot to do with my weakness of being indirect. I was starting to use poems as a shield, a way of being distant while saying something. Illustrating an idea or emotion with images can feel safer, especially if the truth is around the corner instead of in my face. Marge Piercy told me once that my poems never felt like they ended where they were supposed to, like I was missing a few of the final lines. I honestly think I couldn't handle those last few lines. I want to get that rawness into my soul. I was looking for that in college. I've let so many things slip away, I really shouldn't let poetry go too. I still have a deep love for it. I still listen to poetry. I still read it. There is no reason not to write it, other than the crutch of indecisiveness I cling to.
I'm thinking about this now because it's a new year and there has been so much in my life that I haven't shared with people. And I can't always say why I don't want to share. It could be that I don't want to start conflict or be embarrassed or I want to appear strong even when I'm not. I don't think I really thought about all of this until I lived with Bryce. I am constantly struggling to tell him the nitty gritty truth about what I'm feeling, what I'm thinking. And I can't always go through with it. And he's not always as understanding as he tries to be. He's a trooper for trying to pull things out of me all the time. I know it gets frustrating. Sometimes I think I'm just not mentally stacked that way...it takes a lot for me to be honest and unapologetic about it. In other words, the only time I let someone have it is when I am emotionally or physically stressed.
I used to think I was a pretty normal person. Nothing bugged me. I never did anything illegal, never broke any bones. I always assumed that my life had to be horrible, that I needed some excuse to feel conflicted about things. To be able to express rage or grief or depression. Now, I'm not so sure. It's weird.
So yeah. Maybe I should learn to use my journal more.
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| Penned by a Retail Monkey |
[22 Aug 2009|11:48pm] |
Top Ten Tips for Customers
10. Keep change in pocket. I understand what it means to be strapped for cash, but most of us know the ballpark price of the things we want. Why come into a store with barely enough when you could have just enough? Isn't it embarrassing to run out to your car for the last 60 cents of a $4 purchase? Broke people shouldn't sneer at dimes and pennies. And you shouldn't think that the rest of us aren't broke enough to relate -- if you can't pay the FULL AMOUNT, you don't need a GPS. You need a good change purse.
9. Don't ask your kids about everything. Not everyone is tech savvy and I get that. But just because your twelve year old can play X-Box, that doesn't make him an expert on how to wire your home theater system.
8. Don't ask me if you aren't going to listen. I'm a sales person, not your ninth grade algebra teacher. I can tell you how to hook something up, I can tell you if it's going to work, I can tell you my opinion on quality and price. I can't drive home and prove to you that it will work in your house. And I can't make you buy the right thing. Don't waste my time if you're going to do the opposite of everything I say. I could be helping other people.
7. People in retail are too tired to visualize. If you can't describe it, we can't help you. We aren't opposed to charades, but keep in mind that the help you receive is only as good as the questions you ask.
6. Service plans or warranties have rules and limitations. And no, you can't make up your own for the fifty dollars you're spending. Know what you're buying or you'll just make yourself look like a major douchebag when you cry over the disappearance of your own imaginary terms of service.
5. A mismarked price is not always false-advertising. Unless it is used to get you into something you don't want to be in, it's not illegal. Don't try to showcase your knowledge of law you haven't actually studied. If I told you a GPS was $99 to get you in the door and then you came in and found out it was actually $300...that's false advertising. If you find a pair of headphones on a peg that is clearly marked "screen protectors" and ask for that price...that just means you a) can't tell the difference between headphones and thin squares of plastic or b) you can't read. Either option is embarrassing. And yes, sales associates do laugh at you behind your back.
4. Don't assume all stores have public restrooms. Companies supply bathrooms for employees because they trap us in their building all day to be slaves. We need to excrete and they don't want it done on the floor. Don't be offended when we won't let you use one of the few luxuries provided to us. Small stores don't have janitors to clean up after you, so we don't have bathrooms you can use. It's unfortunate that most of the time you're inconsiderate beings who like to clog our toilets and leave pee and poop on our toilet seats and floors that WE have to clean up. We wish it weren't so, but... relieve yourself ahead of time.
3. Always hand the cashier your form of payment. Throwing money on the counter, tossing your card by the register, laying quarters down and making someone pick up your payment wreckage is impolite. It's also seen as degrading. We aren't your hired help. Retail workers might not have any food of yours to spit in, but we will be less likely to give good advice, phone numbers or speedy service. In fact, we might even point you in the wrong direction just to fuck with your day. These things might seem small to you until Black Friday. Or Christmas Eve. Have fun waiting in line and driving all over town.
2. Nothing is free. And if it is, it's only to get something else out of you. Free cellphones require you to sign a two year contract. This is true wherever you go. Cellphone companies don't give a shit about you, they just want to know you'll pay them on a monthly basis for the rest of your life. We explain this to you, even when our companies try to keep it secret with their pretty red and white signs. There is never a pure good deal.
1. Read. Read your contracts. Read your receipt. Read the return policy we mention to you in passing. Read the lighted sign at the register that says EXPRESS. Read the sales ad. Read the hours sign posted at the window. Read the tags on what you buy. People in retail go out of their way to give you as much information (however flashy and misleading it sometimes is) as possible. We explain, we write it down, we lecture you constantly on the nature of our world. And we smile through all of it. Yet you never do the homework and you get angry at us because you learn nothing. We want to have faith in the consumer, we want to believe you really are intelligent and kind and respectful people raised in an educated democratic society. So read. Help us see you aren't the soulless day killers that we dread. And maybe, MAYBE... we can finally help you.
Have a nice day.
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[08 Aug 2009|12:21am] |
I'm exhausted. Not in the physical way or the emotional way or any kind of way but the way that makes me incapable of a real, honest thought. The way that has me home at 9:30PM with the motivation to do nothing but watch animal reality tv shows or lay in bed with my eyes shut even though I can't sleep just yet. I'm the kind of tired that requires darkness but at the same time can't shut off the light. I can't choose anything either. God. I can't make a coherent decision without it being some life shattering moment. Sometimes I think if Bryce asks me what I want for dinner again, I might cry. Or give up and lay myself out in the middle of the grocery store's main aisle to accept an inglorious death at the hands of a shopping cart. Anything would be better than admitting that I really don't have any thought there. Me, the supposed creative writer. What a joke. Ha. Ha ha ha. Even if our brains were our lower intestines and I drank all the bowel relaxer in the world, I couldn't shit verse. I feel like an idiot sometimes. Or a depressed washout or an absent-minded bag lady. It's really hard to describe without giving people cause to think I'm even crazier than I am. Or think I am. Or...
Whatever.
Maybe I should blame work. Or my diet. Or the fact that I haven't really done anything for myself in a while. I don't have time, I think. That's a lie. I could probably make time if I tried hard enough not to sleep whenever I had the chance. What do I do with my time anyway? Or I think...conference call at 8:00 on Tuesday. I have to do paperwork and my cage count and my store needs to be perfect (again) before Friday. And why on earth do I get so touchy about people speaking poorly for the company I work for when I don't even really like the company I work for? I don't know. I really don't know. I do know that I have to do my laundry and that I've been saying that for at least two months now (at least). I can't keep doing it in pieces because then I will never put the closet back together again. Not that it really matters because I've completely and utterly failed at keeping it together like I promised myself I would when I got here. Sometimes I think I should just burn all of my clothes and start over. Then I remember that I need money, which is another train of thought entirely.
You know, the worst part of it is I'm not unhappy. I don't feel unhappy. I just feel stressed. And blocked. I feel unstable. I feel like everything can just evaporate in an instant and all the sudden nothing would matter at all. I hate that feeling...you know where you think you could actually get away with disappearing? Okay, so I'm unhappy. I feel like an ass for saying that though. A whiny ass. I should be happy all of the time. I have a job. I have a place to stay. I have family (that I don't bother to keep in contact with...another train of thought as well). And I live with someone I love very much. It should be enough for me and I should be able to sit down and write whatever the hell I want. Or do my fucking laundry. Or reorganize the books on my shelf. Why can't I do that? Why can't I just...do it. Like a normal person would. I could before.
Ugh. I hate August. And I hate angsty free writes. I can't stop the former so I'll stop the latter. Thank you.
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[18 Jul 2009|09:45pm] |
I am not a screen,
my readings do not compute
to a logical result.
I am not a fighter,
pain is not my motivator
nor is high reward.
I am not a crane,
picking up where I left off
is not so easy.
I am not a recording,
recitations and propaganda
make my tongue stumble.
I am not a mannequin,
when light shines on me
there is no eternal smile.
I am not a chisel,
tapping me against rock
will not yield a beautiful thing.
I am not a river,
being held and being still
are all I seek from some days.
I am not a hermit,
solitude is only the tool used
to fit a mask back in place.
I am not a child,
my heart and mind can rebel
even when I follow command.
I am silent
when I should speak,
when I should yell,
when I should sing
and I wish I could say
all of these things.
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[31 Jan 2009|05:20pm] |
I saw the most awesome SUV earlier today. It was all black and had lines on it like police car. I thought it WAS a police car until I got close to it. On the back there was a zombie chasing a mother and child and the text "Zombie Assault Preparedness Vehicle".
It was the most awesome thing I'd seen all day.
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| To Do |
[30 Jan 2009|12:42pm] |
Phone Calls:
-> Allstate
-> Radioshack District Manager
-> Grandma
Research:
-> Registering a car in Texas
-> Getting Texas license
-> Nissan service locations
-> Read Enterprise's business site
Errands/Chores:
-> Nails
-> Clean out trash in room, dust
-> Pack remaining clothes
-> Pack electronics
-> Clean car
-> Load up packed stuff
-> Donate old clothes
-> Grocery shopping
-> Change address on all loans
-> Get maps tabbed and print directions
-> Pull all money from health savings
-> Deposit bonus check
Other:
-> Figure out video chat w/Katy
-> Mess up mom's hair as much as possible
-> Get pictures of the kids
-> Get bourbon ball recipe for Caela
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| Twenty-Five Random Facts |
[29 Jan 2009|11:44pm] |
I saw this on a friend's page on Facebook. Feel free to do it yourselves!
1. Whenever I'm super sick, all the blood goes out of my fingers and they become finger-cicles.
2. My first personal pets were fish. They were tiny and glowed in the dark.
3. I love canoes.
4. My favorite birthday cake is vanilla cake with vanilla icing and coconut. Mmmm.
5. I like singing in the car. With the windows down.
6. I only have performance anxiety when playing the French Horn.
7. Browns and reds are my favorite clothing colors.
8. The most vivid dreams I have are often violent nightmares, but occasionally include dead people/animals I knew.
9. I think my bedroom is haunted because my jewelry box door sometimes opens by itself.
10. Softball was my favorite sport because of the insulting cheers we did while other teams were at bat.
11. Sarcasm is my most beloved past time. It also gets me into a lot of trouble.
12. I am prone to passing out because when I get stressed my blood pressure drops.
13. I love pickles on every sandwich but PB&J.
14. Rollercoasters are not fun for me because they make my legs feel funny. And they're scary.
15. When I was a kid, I was always thinking up schemes to make money because I wanted to buy a shed and live in the woods.
16. I love decorating and organizing for other people's parties.
17. I have a shot glass collection but I've never been drunk.
18. Frank Sinatra's songs are best in the spring to me. '
19. I'm afraid of being forgotten or becoming a ghost.
20. I want to get into baking more and cupcake decorating. And maybe candy making.
21. My mom thinks I was able to read at a very young age because she read to us all the time.
22. I like going to rock concerts because I enjoy feeling the music reverberate in my chest when I'm in the crowd.
23. When I lived in Florida, I used to pray that God freeze the ocean and give us snow. I stayed up all Christmas Eve one year to see if He'd do it.
24. I love kitties because I like observing their personalities. I think cats have old souls.
25. I was a girl scout until my sophomore year of high school. I was a cadet. It was fun while it lasted.
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| 2009 |
[03 Jan 2009|12:38am] |
I don't like to review my year; it feels like I'm trying to re-live things I either only half-remember or wish I could forget. There are probably millions, perhaps billions, of livejournal posts and blogs and facebook one-liners describing the baggage that people are tugging over the line to 2009. These are the same people bouncing around cyberspace singing about "change" or their awesome new lives or how everything is going to be so much better because they scribble down '09 now on their checks, rather than that blah of '08. Well I will not be one of them. I defy the violent urge to write paragraphs of hokey hopes and weepy garbage that I'd sooner burn than read aloud to anyone. Why look back when there are twelve shiny months waiting to be filled in? Why ask why things happened when I can focus on how to make things happen now?
The truth is, I've spent most of my life analyzing my life. When I fuck up, I remember in detail why I fucked up and why I shouldn't have fucked up. When I do something great it energizes me even years later, but makes me wonder why I'm not that awesome in the present. The big events in my life stick to my memory stronger than any super glue or any binding duct tape can provide. So when it comes to the New Year, I treat Time as I treated high school. Or college. Get me the hell out. I'm ready to do something new.
The more I dwell in what was or could have been, the more I weigh myself down. There is no way any soul can bound across this earth if its heavy enough to make an elephant feel insignificant. I'll honor the past and then get it out of my way. If 2009 is such a great thing, then I'll embrace it for what it is: a year not yet lived. I won't predict, won't plan and won't worry. After all, I get another crack at a blank slate in twelve months.
Thank you, beautiful calendar of chance!
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