Anywhere But Here

2009-05-24T23:27:00.002-04:00

This economy sure has me in the downs, and for the first time I'm not down for selfish reasons.

I'm amazed at how many of my online friends (facebook, myspace, bloggers)are in a really dark place right now. There seems to be this deep emotional ennui across the country; everyone seems to be going through terrible times - and not just financially. Relationship problems, addiction, you name it. These issues are going around like wildfire.

I'm concerned by the quiet desperation I'm hearing from my fellow technophiles. I wish I could help, and the only way I know how is to offer support. It doesn't seem like enough.

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The Heart of the Matter

2009-05-24T23:17:00.002-04:00

A friend recommended these lyrics to me today. I need to remember them...

I got the call today, I didnt wanna hear
But I knew that it would come
An old, true friend

of ours was talkin on the phone
She said youd found someone
And I thought of all the bad luck,
And the struggles we went through
And how I lost me and you lost you
What are these voices outside loves open door
Make us throw off our contentment
And beg for something more?
Im learning to live without you now
But I miss you sometimes
The more I know, the less I understand
All the things I thought I knew, Im learning again
Ive been tryin to get down
To the heart of the matter
But my will gets weak
And my thoughts seem to scatter
But I think its about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you dont love me anymore
These times are so uncertain
Theres a yearning undefined
And people filled with rage
We all need a little tenderness
How can love survive in such a graceless age?
The trust and self-assurance that lead to happiness
Theyre the very things - we kill I guess
Pride and competition
Cannot fill these empty arms
And the work I put between us
You know it doesnt keep me warm
Im learning to live without you now
But I miss you, baby
And the more I know, the less I understand
All the things I thought Id figured out
I have to learn again
Ive been trying to get down
To the heart of the matter
But everything changes
And my friends seem to scatter
But I think its about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you dont love me anymore
There are people in your life whove come and gone
They let you down you know they hurt your pride
You better put it all behind you baby; life goes on
You keep carryin that anger; itll eat you up inside, baby
Ive been trying to get down
To the heart of the matter
But my will gets weak
And my thought seem to scatter
But I think its about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you dont love me
Ive been tryin to get down
To the heart of the matter
Because the flesh will get weak
And the ashes will scatter
So Im thinkin about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you dont love me
Forgiveness
Forgiveness - baby
Forgiveness
Forgiveness
Forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, you dont love me anymore
Fade

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New Blog - Will Discuss Details Later

2009-05-24T20:39:00.003-04:00

I've started a new blog for business purposes - touting my writing skills. Does anyone have any ideas for technical or creative articles I can write to showcase my writing ability?

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Writer's Block: How To Begin Blogging Again

2009-05-10T19:49:00.003-04:00

To my faithful readers:

Some of you have commented about my writer's block - I haven't posted as often as I'd like over the past 6 months or so. Fortunately, I think that the writer's block has seemed to dissipate somewhat. I thought I'd share the remedy.

I've begun "blogging for cash" as my husband puts it. No, really. I'm blogging, writing web content, and developing SEO-friendly articles for websites. The pay is helping me pay the bills (just a bit) and the work is keeping me positive. I feel as though I'm doing something meaningful for my household, and I had forgotten how badly I need to write.

Yes, some of the subject matter is crap. But the actual exercise of writing has pushed me to do a lot of writing/thinking about writing...in creative terms.

I just feel better, and I wanted to share my remedy for writer's block. Start writing for money and discover that when you are forced to write the actual exercise makes your brain work differently...writing becomes something that seems second nature versus a chore you don't want to do.

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How to Get a Job During the Depression?

2009-05-06T14:04:00.004-04:00

My house is going to be foreclosed and I am making less than 1/2 of what I need to pay the bills. How do I find a job during the depression? How do I make a less than stellar resume seem stellar?

A. I haven't graduated. I can't afford to come up with 3K, and they won't give me my diploma until then. How do I make potential employers understand that I've completed all the coursework but I'm just broke?

B. I've had 3 jobs in 4 years - because all three jobs went out of business. How do you explain that on your resume so that recruiters don't immediately assume you are a job-hopper?

Any thoughts, suggestions, or criticism is more than welcome. Dish it out. I need it all.

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TOP 5 REASONS OBAMA SUPPORTERS SHOULDN'T REST EASY

2008-10-21T10:50:00.003-04:00

TOP 5 REASONS OBAMA SUPPORTERS SHOULDN'T REST EASY

1. The polls may be wrong. This is an unprecedented election. No one knows how racism may affect what voters tell pollsters—or what they do in the voting booth. And the polls are narrowing anyway. In the last few days, John McCain has gained ground in most national polls, as his campaign has gone even more negative.

2. Dirty tricks. Republicans are already illegally purging voters from the rolls in some states. They're whipping up hysteria over ACORN to justify more challenges to new voters. Misleading flyers about the voting process have started appearing in black neighborhoods. And of course, many counties still use unsecure voting machines.

3. October surprise. In politics, 15 days is a long time. The next McCain smear could dominate the news for a week. There could be a crisis with Iran, or Bin Laden could release another tape, or worse.

4. Those who forget history... In 2000, Al Gore won the popular vote after trailing by seven points in the final days of the race. In 1980, Reagan was eight points down in the polls in late October and came back to win. Races can shift—fast!

5. Landslide. Even with Barack Obama in the White House, passing universal health care and a new clean-energy policy is going to be hard. Insurance, drug and oil companies will fight us every step of the way. We need the kind of landslide that will give Barack a huge mandate.

If you agree that we shouldn't rest easy, please sign up to volunteer at your local Obama office by clicking here:

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2008-09-16T13:37:00.002-04:00

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2008-09-11T14:16:00.001-04:00

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Ad on Sex Education Distorts Obama Policy

2008-09-11T12:36:00.002-04:00

Ad on Sex Education Distorts Obama Policy

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/09/11/us/politics/11checkpoint.html?bl&ex=1221278400&en=139555dd265b8c71&ei=5087%0A

First these people use the "bridge to nowhere" link that doesn't exist - the lady wanted the stinkin' bridge. (And I can see why 50 people would want to be able get to the mainland with something other than a boat).

Then, they accuse Obama of wanting to teach our Kindergartners sex ed. What a crock of sh#t.

I'm terrified of the Republicans; they come from another planet.

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Your Toffee Bar Beer - But don't drink together, just during Prep

2008-09-11T05:51:00.003-04:00

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Toffee Bars

2008-09-11T05:35:00.002-04:00

Z loves toffee- specifically heath bars. His birthday was Monday. I made him a toffee cake, which tasted like an old lady cake you enjoy at that old people's buffet. That's what I get for following a recipe from a "you've never heard of us" bed & breakfast.

So I made Toffee Bars last night, and I haven't made a dessert this good in years so I thought I'd share.

TOFFEE BARS

Cook Time: 30ish minutes

Ingredients:

Shortbread Cookie Bottom:
4 ounces butter, softened
1/4 cup sugar
1 cup self-rising flour

Middle Toffee Layer:
4 ounces butter
2 tablespoons sugar
1 can sweetened condensed milk, (14-ounce)
1/4 cup pecans
1/2 teaspoon vanilla

Top Toffee Layer:
4 ounces German sweet chocolate
4 oz. box of Nips Coffee Caramels
2 Heath bars, crushed up
1/4 stick butter

Prep:

Crush up heath bars in a bowl with a knife. I did this while watching 20 minutes of that crappy movie "21", which I still haven't finished. Drink a Leinenkugel's Summer Shandy, and decide to smoke a cigarette. Go outside, and leave the bowl of crushed heath bars on the kitchen table. Smoke. Come back and discover that your Chi-Weenie has eaten half of the heath bars which she managed to spill out of the bowl onto the floor first. Grumble.

Preheat oven to 350F.

Cream 4 ounces butter with 1/4 cup sugar. Blend in flour. Spread into a buttered 8-inch square pan ( I used one of those cheapo disposable aluminum bake pans, and I totally recommend it. It was way easier to manipulate in the freezer). Your mix should be sticky and should pack together in the bottom of the pan like shortbread. If it isn't this consistency, add more butter for stick or more sugar/flour for less stick. Bake at 350 degree F for about 20 minutes, until firm and lightly browned around the edges. Cool.

Meanwhile, mix chocolate, Nips, 1/4 stick butter and heath bar crumbles in a small saucepan. Put saucepan in a large boiler pan with water, and turn to medium. Allow boiler pan to bubble and heat the chocolate mix in the middle saucepan. Stir slowly every so often -when the mix is ready the caramels will have melted into the chocolate.

At the same time, combine 4 ounces butter, 2 tablespoons sugar, condensed milk, and pecans in a small saucepan; cook on lowish-medium, stirring, until mixture leaves the sides of the pan. Stir in vanilla. Pour over shortbread. Spread melted chocolate mix over the top; stick in the freezer for 45 min. or an hour. I took Charko and the dogs for a walk in the park for an hour and pulled them out after approx. 90 min. Cut in squares.

Freaking Fantabulous.

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B

Just having a good time....

2008-09-08T08:44:00.002-04:00

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Football Recap: 09/08/08

2008-09-08T08:17:00.003-04:00

"Terrell Owens: Just Having Fun Celebrating"

http://www.dallascowboys.com/multimedia/multimedia_center.cfm?id=40BA677D-CA68-40B1-C47FC1F657BB6227

Terrell Owens' touchdown celebration penalty last night during the Cowboys v. Cleveland game was absolute horseshit. I see running backs doing somersaults, Jack-Palance style pushups with hand clapping, and plenty of end-zone dancing. They picked T.O. out because of his rep.

I'm really tired of the criticism of T.O.'s attitude. Yes, he acted like an ingracious bastard during his tenure with the Eagles. But let's be honest. The Eagles are a 2nd, if not a 3rd tier team at best. With T.0.'s talent, wouldn't you be pissed off when your QB and other members of the offensive line don't support your efforts?

Moving to Dallas was the best move possible for T.O. Coach Wade Phillips has clearly demonstrated that he won't put up with any shit, and Terrell seems less cocky and more like a teamplayer.

IN OTHER NEWS:

*** While "I Sold My Soul To Satan / Whiny Ass" Tom Brady has suffered an ACL injury that may be a season ender, I'm not happy. Yes, the Cowboys have a better shot as a Superbowl team. Like my brother, though, I'm convinced that it doesn't count if the odds weren't even. I'm wishing Brady comes back for the playoffs, and the Pats prove they can hang in there without him.

*** Falcons QB Matt Ryan certainly demonstrated his talent yesterday. That first pass game opener was incredible; there isn't any doubt this young 'un is hot shit. I'm incredibly interested this season - for the first time ever - in how this new team progresses. Arthur Blank - mad props to you for the risks you took trying to put this team back together. I think you're going to get some stinking sweet ROI on your efforts.

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WHAT A SURPRISE!!!! "McCain fought money on teen pregnancy programs"

2008-09-02T12:20:00.007-04:00

There isn't a thing I can possibly say here.

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Signs of Brainwashing at an Early Age

2008-09-02T12:06:00.002-04:00

My daughter is in this phase...she likes to tell you she hates something if she knows you love it. So last week, all we heard was "I'm a Republican". "I'm voting for John McCain". When we explained that she can't vote, she told us: "Well I'm campaigning for McCain".

Apparently this is working both ways. She very adamantly declared to my neo-con mother this weekend: "I'm a democrat". "I love Barack Obama".

My mother calls me this morning to instruct me: "We need to make sure Charky gets exposure to all sides. Please make sure she gets to see Sarah Palin speak at the RNC".

I explained that Z and I will watch as much of the RNC as we can stand, but that I don't want to talk about Gov. Palin because I can't stand her. But yes, as long as a speech is taking place before bedtime, Charky can watch.

While it truly pissed me off when Charky told me she was a Republican, even though I knew what she was doing, the whole thing has made me feel better knowing she's giving my mother an equal amount of grief. It's not just me.

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be Republicans.

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Yippee Ki Yi Yay

2008-07-11T09:17:00.003-04:00

Do I really need more of these (see above)???????

Does anyone believe in the Magic 8 ball?
I tried two different links online, and received "Yes" answers to my questions.
Anyone want to do some tarot cards for me from a distance? I can't find mine.

If you're normally regular as clockwork, and now you're 6 days late, does that mean you're pregnant?

What would you do?

My medications blur pregnancy test results, so that isn't an option.

Should I reply to the email from my boyfriend from 12 years ago?

According to the resources online, lamictal and lantus don't affect fetuses. Should I ignore my physicians warnings?

If I am pregnant, should I wait and see if my ex-husband coughs up some money this year? He keeps putting it off, a quarter at a time. Now he says December. The insurance company will ask for between $300-500 extra per month to cover the cost of a pregnancy. Should I just wait and see and then declare bankruptcy next year?

Do you have to gain weight if you are pregnant?

Would you have your tubes tied even though you have always wanted to bear a football team, but you don't, in the forseeable future, expect to be able to afford them? What if you are worried that your current marriage may not last, due to death or other?

If you are burnt out, should you use your vacation days? What if you are going to be laid off in October and you will really need the padded last paycheck?

How are you supposed to find a job if you are pregnant?

Why won't these freaking shrinks prescribe me some anxiety medication?

How do you potty-train a dog that refuses to be potty-trained? Are you telling me I have to spank my 12 lb. chi-weenie?

What kind of medication can I take that will bring down my manic evenings and put me to sleep, but won't make me sleep too long?

Am I really prepared for all the crap that comes with babies? Does that mean I have to start cleaning my house? Where do I put my office, if that is going to be a new bedroom?

I guess that sample rocking chair from the e-commerce company may come in handy in the near future.

When do you tell your coworkers, who ask every single freaking month if I'm pregnant, as though they're wishing it on me? Damn them.

I'm required to go to this wedding in October, and see my ex-best friend, who I really don't want to see. If I am pregnant, I really don't want to tell him. But I hate to lie.

I'm tired all the time anyway. Could I really put up with being even more tired for 3months or so? I didn't work for the first 4 months with Charlotte in there - will this be the same.

I'm totally worrying about things that may not be real - projecting. Excuse my minor freak-out this morning.

Back to your regularly scheduled programming.

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Misc Meanderings

2008-07-02T12:23:00.004-04:00

Note to Self: Pepper Jack OR chocolate are not prescribed foods ingested prior to sleep. You dreamt about that jack-ass boyfriend from high school who ended up banging your good friend later, despite your warnings to her.

What am I thinking about today?

1. Porn and sex toys. We're on a upswing here, so root for me, people.

2. Sushi

3. Vodka

4. That dude on craigslist with the funny posts. Anyone know how to submit posts to the "Best of Craigslist" board?

5. Work I don't want to do

6. Gas I don't want to pump

7. A vacation I never get to have (it's been 3 years now, people.)

8. Job-hunting sucks. The stupid pop-ups from Monster suck harder.

9. My ex-husband sucks. Anyone want to draft a complaint for me?

10. Diet Rock Star

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Job Hunting Round 4 Since Blog Inception

2008-05-16T13:50:00.000-04:00

Ok. Breathe.

Completely bored and feel like my energy, talent, and motivation is slinking away. My employer lost its primary contract in April, so I now have until October to find another job. Everyone around here acts pretty glum, and the phone quit ringing last month. Needless to say, my work has dried up.

The good news is that I finish my last undergrad course next week – May 20th. The bad news is that I’ve yet to receive a phone call regarding my resume (The obligatory “Thanks for your response” emails don’t count). My work history makes me look like a schizophrenic, and my undergrad was received by an institution of questionable integrity. Perhaps a waste of $45K, we’ll see.

Anyway, if any of you know some new tools for job hunting I’d love the help. If you have any advice on how to explain my job-skipping (most of the time it was because I was going to lose my employment due to the company ceasing operations) I’d love that too.

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How Snewo Got Her Groove Back

2008-05-14T13:30:00.001-04:00

I’ve been pushing this whole “oil production is at the beginning of the end” theory for years now. I once discussed Hubbert’s Theory and the end of gasoline. For great reading, check out Fortune’s profile of Richard Rainwater (http://money.cnn.com/magazines/fortune/fortune_archive/2005/12/26/8364646/) and Rainwater’s favorite website (www.lifeaftertheoilcrash.net/). George Bush has been using a geothermal unit for the heating/cooling of his Crawford, TX ranch – for years. Kind of interesting for the former President of a big oil company, dontcha think?

Anyway, Z bought me a fugly car for Christmas, and we finally got a legal tag for it last week. I began driving it on Monday.

Keep in mind, I was driving a 2-door Explorer with 270K miles, and getting around 10 miles/gallon. Really.

I’ll describe my new ugly car. It’s a maroon ’94 Nissan Sentra, with a big dent on the front and a big dent on the trunk (the driver’s side, of course). It appears as though the previous owner deliberately swerved to hit passing children or old ladies.

Did I mention the half-dollar sized spots throughout where the paint has chipped away?

The window tint is questionably legal, and only covers the four door windows and the back glass. The tint is bubbling up on the back glass, creating a strange trippy psychedelic poster-like feel.

The upholstery is light grey chamois feel stuff that has been rubbed to no tomorrow, and is irreparably stained.

I hope that is a pretty good job describing the appearance – now I’ll tell you how I feel about this car.

First, I could easily drive this thing everyday, and feel a sense of shame. The state of my financial affairs is grim to say the least; I’m about four steps away from declaring bankruptcy. I have these freaking bill collectors calling every hour – on the hour – even on Sunday.

This car sits in the very tiny parking lot at my workplace, and I can’t hide it. It certainly is the ugliest car there.

But boy does it drive. It reminds me of Z’s old Honda CRX, completely spare on the inside, lightweight, with a ton of zoom-zoom. It darts and handles curves and has a ton of get-go.

A couple of years ago, I would’ve totally x-nayed the idea of driving another little four-cylinder cradle of death. My accident on the way home in Aug. ’05 scared the shit out of me. I still don’t drive well in the rain – my heart starts pounding and my forehead feels clammy.

Driving this car, with my ass 17 inches off the pavement, makes me feel alive. I don’t know why. Somehow I feel unburdened.

The car is way ugly, and is a true testament to my financial well-being. But I feel defiantly poor again, and that is kind of nice. I kind of miss the days when we bought veggies from the local farmers, and ate meat-free dinners every other night because we couldn’t afford the meat. When I spent a lot of time sewing because it was cheap, easy, and unleashed my creative side. When an evening of entertainment meant a trip to the park with Charky. When I figured out how to weave my plastic grocery bags into doormats, and feel accomplished because I had created something durable, recycled, and blue. When $5 could buy me enough gas to tool over to my best friend’s house, Taco Bell, and a pack of smokes.

I may not drive this thing in the rain; we’re supposed to have significant downpours this evening so we’ll see how my commute home goes. However, I do know this:

A. When I drive that clunky Explorer, I’ll miss that feeling of being alive.

B. I still won’t get over getting 22 miles/gallon. It now costs $3.50 to get to work, where it was costing $8.

C. I feel like I can hide behind the assumptions that come from others when they view this little ugly car.

D. My go-go gadget superpowers went away a long, long time ago. Most people who knew me back in the day wonder how I became so boring and sedate. I was once spontaneous and the leader of misbehavior. This car makes me remember that free spirit, and I like it. I needed it.

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Oh! Hello There Again!

2008-05-08T12:39:00.002-04:00

Where have I been? Um.

I guess it’s a bit coincidental that I quit taking my mental medications around the time of my last post – November ’07. I weaned myself off of them for purely financial reasons – I was paying COBRA ($900 / month) and my insurance carrier decided that my meds would equal $400 / month. Jeez.

I had all decided that I didn’t need them…I”VE GOT MEDITATION!!!! Whoops.

So for the past three months I’ve been doing this living thing on a minute-to-minute basis, just trying to keep my head above water. Terribly afraid and confused because my head just doesn’t seem to get better and I don’t know when relief is coming.

Finally, a month or so ago, I lifted my nose out of the water and decided I needed to go back to the Head Doc and get some medication. I finally got my taxes back, and after a bunch of searching, I got an appointment for this Saturday with some new guy. (The old guy won’t accept my insurance – a major carrier, BTW).

Boy do I need it. For a while it seems I was able to just tell myself I was in a low spot and that I’d feel better in a few days when I hit my high again. Lately, though, these lows just seem never-ending.

I’m hunting for a good analogy here. Drowning or burning seems decent. You’re under water, holding your breath just to see how long you can do it. Your friend pops up for air, but you know you can hang in there and show them (!). Your chest feels like an anvil and you begin to sense this fireplace poker jabbed in your ribs…it burns gentle, then more fierce as each eternal second trickles by. Now it’s throbbing, and your breasts are shuddering slightly. You notice your shaking chest is in tune to the throbbing in your lungs. So you decide to pop your head above the water and gasp a nice, big long drink of air.

But you can’t. Something won’t let you. You struggle and spin for a way out – any way. Side to side, up, down. You’re locked in place. And the burning feels searing now. You just want it over and out because you know that in a few minutes, you will have decided that it wasn’t the worst pain you’ve ever felt – surely you’ve had worse.

That's the story of my life this minute. I'll try to update with details sometime soon.

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Rascism 2007

2007-11-04T16:04:00.000-04:00

A few weekends ago, I went to go see the Dalai Lama at Emory for the "Mind/Life Institute 2007". It was a beautiful experience, and one I'll never forget. I'm more committed to pursuing zen meditation, and I feel this lovely sense of calm, strength, and courage since I began seeing things from a different perspective.

Unfortunately, it's amazing how my current focus on compassion became unraveled in about 10 min. last friday. You see, I received this email from a friend of mine, and it completely sent my blood boiling. Below please find the contents of the email - it's nothing personal - just one of those read and forward on to your friends type thing.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Someone Finally Said It
(And it's long over-due.)
Proud To Be White

Someone finally said it.

How many are actually paying attention to this?
There are African Americans,
Mexican Americans,
Asian Americans,
Arab Americans,
Native Americans, etc.
...And then there are just -
Americans.

You pass me on the street
and sneer in my direction.
You Call me "White boy,"
"Cracker," "Honkey,"
"Whitey," "Caveman,"
... And that's OK.

But when I call you Nigger,
Kike, Towel head,
Sand-nigger, Camel Jockey,
Beaner, Gook, or Chink
... You call me a racist.

You say that whites commit a lot
of violence against you,
so why are the ghettos the most
dangerous places to live?

You have the United Negro College Fund.
You have Martin Luther King Day.
You have Black History Month.
You have Cesar Chavez Day.
You have Ma'uled Al-Nabi.
You Have Yom Hashoah.
You have the NAACP.
And you have BET.

If we had WET
(White Entertainment Television)
... We'd be racists.

If we had a White Pride Day
... You would call us racists.

If we had White History Month
... We'd be racists.

If we had any organization for only whites
to "advance" OUR lives
... We'd be racists.

We have a Hispanic Chamber of Commerce,
a Black Chamber of Commerce,
and then we just have the plain
Chamber of Commerce.
Wonder who pays for that?

If we had a college fund that only gave
white students scholarships
... You know we'd be racists.

There are over 60 openly-proclaimed
Black-only Colleges in the US ,
yet if there were "White-only Colleges"
... THAT would be a racist college.

In the Million Man March,
you believed that you were
marching for your race and rights.
If we marched for our race and rights,
... You would call us racists.

You are proud to be black,
brown, yellow and orange,
and you're not afraid to announce it.
But when we announce our white pride

... You call us racists.

You rob us,
carjack us,
and shoot at us.
But, when a white police officer
shoots a black gang member
or beats up a black drug-dealer
who is running from the LAW and
posing a threat to ALL of society
... You call him a racist.

I am proud.
... But, you call me a racist.

Why is it that only
whites
can be racists?

There is nothing improper about this e-mail.

Let's see which of you
are proud enough to send it on.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I have to admit, I flipped my gourd. Here was my response to the email, and yes, I did hit "reply all":

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Wow. How uneducated can you be? The person that wrote that crap should have been chained up in leg and arm shanks, stolen from his family, locked underneath a boat deck in a place where people shit and pissed and threw up and died - then allowed above deck to "dance" in order to amuse the deckhands. If your family was unlucky enough to have been captured with you, your crying baby was thrown overboard so that he didn't bother the captain. To add insult to injury, you are SOLD - for cheaper than a cow - to a man who puts you to work. No "lunch breaks", 401ks, medical insurance, or even the ability to own your own home, marry the woman you want, or bear children unless its okayed by your "massuh". You'd be beaten if you spoke your native language or sang native songs. And it's pretty unlikely any of your fellow slaves speak your language. You are a commodity - like an animal.

So you make it ok through the civil war, and you're "emancipated". Yankees come and "save" you while making a jackass of you - dressing you up and making you dance and sing songs again. Unless you're really special, you end up "sharecropping" - farming the land you worked as a slave, and getting a little money off of it. But not much, because you owe your former "massuh" rent and the land fee and the grocery bills you've been piling up while you wait on the harvest. You are able to start going to a church where you can finally assemble, and if you "get too big for your britches" these stupid white men in gay-ass white sheets come and light your yard on fire or hang you from a tree. If your 12 year old son bats his eyes at a white woman while walking through town, well, they hang him too. (Emmett Smith). They finally pass a law to allow you to vote, but because you're black you have to take a "test" that absolutely none of you could pass about every stinking thing in the constitution. Never mind the fact white people don't have to do that.

Or, let's see, how about life as a Mexican in America during 2007? You come here because your family is starving and hiding from the cops and the drug dealers because they're all on the same payroll. You work shitty jobs - picking vegetables, plucking chickens, or making carpet for up to 20 hours per day. Which "WHITE" people won't do because its so much easier to sign up for welfare after you've made a shit of your life and had your 4th baby by a 4th baby daddy. (And don't argue with me - I've never seen a white person working the fields in Central Valley, CA). Anyway, as a Mexican you either work for cash or you use a Social Security number, so when you pay in your taxes and SSI and disability with each paycheck there is no way you can ever collect that back (No H&R block rapid refund for you, Jose!). Meanwhile, people talk shit about you because you live in an apartment with your 4 brothers and 4 cousins, saying it's nasty. All you're doing is saving money to keep your family alive in Mexico. BUT NOOOOO, you're "sending the money back to Mexico" instead of spending it here. Also a gross inaccuracy, because you're still buying stuff here and paying rent and purchasing cars and shopping for groceries, so in all actuality your contribution to the U.S. economy is pretty great.

Or, let's examine life as John Choo from Japan. You come here in the late 1800s as a slave to asian mobsters (they paid for your boat passage), who quickly sell you to the railroad companies. You lay railroad track in boiling heat 14 hours a day, across 1000s of miles, pretty much walking, following the railroad, as it stretches across the U.S. If you survive these conditions, by the 1940s you and your family have forgotten Japan because it sucked anyway (only rich people and poor people back then, nothing in the middle) and you bought a pretty piece of farmland and began farming cherries, oranges, grapes, and veggies in California's central valley. You live quietly and don't bother anyone. Because you came from Japan the U.S. comes in, takes you and your family and sticks them in a concentration camp, where you have a 50% chance of dying of some nasty disease because the water you drink is contaminated with the shit you shat. Your land is taken, and given away to one of the big companies. You come out of the camp flea-ridden and penniless. And the only reason they could get away with that with you instead of Mr. Weiner or Mr. Haus or any of your other neighbors from german ancestry is because the U.S. didn't really give a shit that 16 million jews were being gassed and there were too many german-americans to start pulling that shit. Besides, in the 1940s everyone thinks german-americans look white, so that's all that matters.

Feel priviliged because you are white. Unless you came from one of the founding families in the U.S., your family was also treated like shit. During the 1800s Irish were not considered white - nor Germans, Polish, Russians, or the Welsh. Feel shame because you will always earn more money, based on your color. Because the likelihood you'll be described as something bad because you are white just doesn't really exist. Try walking down the street

Proud to be biracial, and wishing people were a little bit more compassionate -

L

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Well I first feel incredibly guilty - the Dalai Lama would have said that the most appropriate response to that email was either:

a) Nothing at all.
b) "Please do not send messages like that one to me any longer".

Needless to say, I received a phone call from the sender of the email the next evening, and she was pretty upset. I guess I don't understand, and I probably never will. Typical. I ask everyone to put themselves in another's shoes, and I can't even do that in the case of my friend.

You see, I'm a mutt. My heritage is a mix of EVERYTHING. As a result, I do a pretty intense job of reading about different cultures that are part of me, in order to understand where I came from, why I look the way I do, and what I need to be teaching my children.

I did yell at my daughter for describing herself as white. White is not an adjective. She's kind of olivey-pink. White is not a nationality, or a heritage. You can't be proud to be white - you can be proud to be irish, or german, or french, or swedish. "White" equals the absence of melanin. How can you be proud of that? I'm certainly not going to feel pride in 200 years when my great-great-great grandchildren can't hang because the depleted ozone layer causes them to fry. Talk about a genetic curse.

I just wish more people spent more time thinking about what it must be like to live like someone else. I have a hard time believing that many of these minority groups that are treated like shit don't deserve days to honor them, universities where they will receive a REAL education, and groups to support them. We may have come a long way, but we sure aren't there yet.

Inequities still exist today. Were you ever taught about the Nanking Massacre in history class in school? About the kingdoms of Africa - other than Eqypt? About famous, seminal works like "Their Eyes Were Watching God", or the Tuskegee incident or "Up from Slavery"?

I just wish people could follow one of Don Miguel Ruiz's four agreements - "DO NOT MAKE ASSUMPTIONS". Just because someone looks at you funny doesn't mean they're prejudiced - that is in your head. And trust me, no matter what your nationality is, you still have it better than someone in the world. The idea that you can feel anything other than privileged right now kills me.

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2007-10-03T20:11:00.000-04:00

"If you can read and don't, you're dumb."> -Malcolm Forbes

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My Husband Says They Moved The Etowah Indian Mounds

2007-09-23T17:49:00.000-04:00

Just a few notes on Husbands and Family:

THE HUSBAND

If you know my husband, you know he's a true character. I'm discovering things about him that make me laugh - either with irritation or because it's so off the wall.

First, any man that doesn't know who Howie Long is - you are not a homosexual. Your man-card has been stamped for the year, and you won't have to redeem your card for another 12 months. Z asked me who Howie Long was and who he played for today while we were watching the Falcons-Panthers game, and I went on and on for about 30 minutes about how the only reason women watch football is because of the birth of Howie Long. Rowwwrrrr.

SECOND.

My husband has all of these weird paranoia beliefs. He knows they aren't real, but he still feels the need to repeat them almost daily. I'll only tell one right now, because the second I would like to put into a story format for a blog post.

THEY DID NOT MOVE THE F&CKING ETOWAH INDIAN MOUNDS.

They have these Etowah Indian Mounds near my house, and they've been around for about a billion years or something. The Indians put the dead people in the mounds, and used dumptrucks to cover up the bodies. After a couple million years, you have something like 80,000 dead people in one big volcano shaped mound. Oh, and I think there are four of them or something.

Anyway, Z says that when the Federal Government came in and built Interstate 75 through Cartersville, they had to move the Indian Mounds. He claims some old timer on the square told him so. Now he refuses to go there. And when anyone mentions the Indian mounds, he says, "You know they moved the indian mounds, right?".

Now he knows this isn't true, but sometimes I'm absolutely astounded at the balls this man is carrying. He doesn't mind talking about the movement of the indian mounds to cartersville natives...and you should see the look they give him. It's halfway between "This is one of those gun-slinging psychotic texans running around loose with geronimo bumper stickers on the back of his pickup" and "this sumbitch lives under the Church St. bridge and composes letters all day long to Darryl Hannah" or even "let's string him up, boys, we've got ourselves a yankee!". I love my husband. I can't possibly imagine finding another man quite as strange as he is. I think I needed that, by the way. I get bored with men fairly easily. It's these complexities that truly make people bearable.

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Birthdays and Photography

2007-09-10T16:04:00.000-04:00

If you haven't already, call Z and wish him a belated Happy 40th Birthday. He says that all he feels on his 40th is more chest hair - apparently chest hair number 14 came in night before last.

I was goofing off and found this guy's flickr portfolio.

-->Kris Kros

My memories of Los Angeles are mostly of pollution, but everytime I tell Z about CA I get into this weird dreamy stuff...I remember how those weird magical moments, where the world seems like it was created by fairies - those are about every other day in California. So while I constantly go back to San Francisco for those memories of art, there are also plenty in Southern CA too.

This guy's work reminds me of that stuff - the stuff that is so unique it feels like its another planet

Ghirardelli Square in December
Venice Beach in June
Mulholland Drive anytime
PCH anytime

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2007-09-05T16:39:00.000-04:00

Have courage for the great sorrows of life,
and patience for the small ones;
and when you have accomplished your daily task,
go to sleep in peace ..
.... God is awake.

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Do Factual Research Before You Pronounce an Opinion

2007-08-31T09:08:00.000-04:00

So this current professor I have completely pisses me off...I am not big on people who ignore the wide shades of gray involved with an issue. His biggest schpeal that got me was his statement that ALL pharmaceuticals are bad and will kill you. Sure, I understand that pharmaceutical companies are now creating medicines that attract the greatest number of consumers, and are really profit-based at this point. However, some of this shit I need. I'd like to see him come up with some f-ing herbs to treat insulin-dependent, Type I Diabetes. (BTW - when I mentioned this to him he refused to answer the question and ignored me, despite my attempts to make him answer this question. Perhaps that is why my current grade is a B.)

Anyway, our final assignment for A PUBLIC RELATIONS class is to write about one of these censored stories. I thought I'd pass along the link because they are interesting to read.

DISCLAIMER: THESE MAY NOT BE THE COMPLETE, FACTUAL TRUTH.

These stories were written by "student researchers" overseen by "Faculty editors". To really see if what they are saying is true, without spin, you would have to go read the newspaper articles they cite as sources, then determine if those newspaper articles were written with professional, fact-based journalism techniques. NOT EDITORIALS, which are opinion based.

I did think it was interesting, however, that many bits and pieces of these stories have been told on NPR. Despite the fact that NPR government funded (by law), when they aren't leaning one way or another they do tell some truth - stuff you don't read in the newspaper. My only concern is that NPR doesn't cover global news - like CNN, FOX news, and other media, they only cover what is popular.

That's my spin, and here's the link to the Top 25 Censored Stories of 2007.

http://www.projectcensored.org/censored_2007/index.htm

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Embarrassment=

2007-08-22T20:52:00.001-04:00

THE TOP TEN:

10. Not being able to eat at 2 different family thanksgivings because you're too geeked up.

9. Discovering you have LOTS of blond hair on your arms because you lost too much weight.

8. Discovering you're the only 6th grader who hasn't started shaving yet.

7. Discovering you're the only 6th grader who doesn't wear a bra.

6. Discovering you're the only 7th grader who hasn't got her period yet.

5. Going from supermodel to another passing obese face in the crowd - and then people who once knew you recognize you inside that face.

4. Being married to someone who disgusts you - inside and out.

3. You've popped a few strategic buttons off your shirt, and worn your breasts unabashedly all day long at work.

2. Telling your bosses' boss that your own boss sucks donkey dick.

1. Having a miscarriage at work, and making an absolute mess in your chair, on the floor, down your legs, as you are running towards the bathroom, in the stall, back out in your cubie, and finally, on your seat on your car ride home. Fortunately my skirt was kind of black.

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And Yes, Nicole Richie is Still Starving Herself While Pregnant

2007-08-10T14:26:00.000-04:00

Although I'm not a big advocate of "eating for two" (everyone I have ever known who did that ended up gaining - and keeping - about 40 extra lbs.)

Nicole Richie is a twat.

From The San Francisco Chronicle

"Richie Rushed to Hospital?
Pregnant reality TV star Nicole Richie was reportedly rushed to hospital recently, fearing she was suffering a miscarriage.

The 25-year-old noticed bleeding at the end of last month, just after she and rocker boyfriend Joel Madden returned to Los Angeles from a tour with his band Good Charlotte.

However, doctors quickly assured the four-months pregnant Richie her baby is safe, but did encourage her to eat more to feed the unborn child.

An insider tells Star magazine, "Nicole was bleeding so much, it was really scary for her.

"They found out she's suffering from both a hormonal and nutritional deficiency."

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Spam Is Not Your Friend

2007-08-08T14:48:00.000-04:00

“My boyfriend’s phallus keeps slipping out”

“I just started dating a guy I like, but his phallus is on the small side and doesn’t really”

These were the titles of spam emails in my work inbox this morning. Tell me if I’m wrong, but if these are your issues, ladies, I’m not sure some pill purchased over the internet will help.

Learn p-dar (like gaydar, but more phallic object focused) and you won’t have these issues with new boyfriends.

If you need further instruction, contact me and I’ll send you my seminar information.

“How to use P-Dar for Better Choices”

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19 Special Gifts from God is a bit egocentric, eh?

2007-08-06T10:23:00.000-04:00

The article about the Duggar family's 19th child being born was on Yahoo news last week, and I absolutely flipped my lid. 19 children. All natural-born. None adopted.

"Meet the Duggar Family"

I absolutely cannot believe that they are all over the press - on Good Morning America and etc. - because this is unique and wonderful and in their words "special gifts from God".

Who is going to be the outspoken individual, who hasn't been brainwashed into this bullshit groupthink, who will tell the Duggars that their choice to have 19 gifts is absolutely immoral and inhumane?

Someone - I'm thinking Bill Gates here - needs to take these idiots to a couple of orphanages, soup kitchens, and abused women shelters so that they can get a grip. No need to go to Darfur or Malawi, unless you think it will help draw light on the bleak human condition world-wide. Just show them the poor and unwanted right here in the good ol' U.S.A. The Duggars are from Arkansas, right? I'm sure there are a ton of meth babies in orphanages there that need someone to love them.

They obviously have money - they live in a 7,000 sq. ft home. These people now owe a much greater obligation to mankind. They brought another 19 individuals into this world to share their values and morals with. Obviously their children won't be raised to focus on charity and helping others...it's all about spawning your own loin seed and raising your own mini-cult.

Can someone get a grip here with me and tell the Duggars how irresponsible they are? How reckless? How unsympathetic they seem to their fellow man?

Other than ego (and it sounds like they do want to be listed in the Guiness Book) - I can't come up with another reason to have so many children. It's not a life-or-death issue, as if one of them had cancer and needed a organ match. It's simply a desire to have your own flesh of flesh.

Assholes.

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Personal Security

2007-07-28T22:48:00.000-04:00

Now I have to say, I'm one of these women (probably a dumb-ass) that feels immortal. I'm pretty sure I can kick some ass when I feel like it, as long as I'm sober and I can catch you. Broke a few noses in my day, and I've had no problem rolling big men off of me when necessary. And it has been.

This isn't just a size issue. When I was anorexic and a coke addict, around 126 lbs., I was still pretty strong. Soccer, you see, has benefits.

I'm doing a paper for my marketing class, and the product my team picked is the body alarm. It's actually really effective, and won't hurt anybody. I thought about it a bit recently when I was working on getting my shit together for my Master's Degree App. I'm trying to get into GSU, and it's really notorious for crime. When I went to paralegal school, we had to be escorted by security guards to our car from the law library. At 7 PM.

Anyway, doing my research for this paper, I found this website. I keep finding crap online I would totally blow money on.

Information Unlimited's Magnetic Cannon

They sell a hypnosis machine; a mind and brain control device that works by "electronic circuit allows synchronization of one's brain waves to produce controlled states of relaxation or weird and bizarre hallucinations. Simple to adjust and use".

Anyway, as my current bipolar induced fantasy* is of working for the CIA, as recommended by both the shrinkies now, I'm all into this mind control shit. I can't find a psychology doctorate program specializing in criminal psychology. You know, serial killers and shit.

* Seroquel may be an option for me... a traditional anti-psychotic but now used for all phases of bipolar disorder. I think my career fantasies, sex fantasies, and recall of weird events in brilliant detail may be a psychotic symptom. Feedback needed from my loved ones on this one.

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You Know You're Pretty Freaking Special When...

2007-07-26T15:41:00.000-04:00

The State of Georgia General Assembly passes House Resolution 386
(By: Representatives Golick of the 34th, Richardson of the 19th, Tumlin of the 38th, and Crawford of the 16th)

Georgia General Assembly House Resolution 386

which basically says my boyfriend from high school is a great dude. He's only a 3L at Georgia State University. Jeezums.

Just for the record, unless the global technology/oil apocalypse truly does occur in the next 20 years and you can't access my post on this topic online:

This guy is running for President. It's been in the cards since he was about 10. I've only known him since I was 13 or so, but trust me. You can smell a presidential candidate when you meet him.

And he's perfectly ambitious. By that, I mean he is so freaking smart in the means of personal and professional politics that he knows how to make this happen. Even more significantly, I believe he has subconscious instincts that drive him in all of his pursuits...it's not planned. It just is.

I'm telling you. He has less than 15 years to go before he can run for President. He's going to work for a public defender, and then he'll campaign for representative. Then on to Congress. And the river runs from there.

Perhaps someday, if I am not immediately dismissed as being biased due to our past relationship, I'll write a book about him post-presidency, and describe what an enigmatic, meticulous genius this guy is. A true human puzzle to me for most of my life, I'll tell you that much. And very few people have been that for me. I like to think I'm talented at reading people. (Ol Super Smart Shrinko Man, himself a graduate of West Point, says that I could be hired by the CIA. Apparently we have some instinctual capabilities outside the norm: the ability to understand and "feel" people pretty quickly).

Being in the presence of this guy is a bit unnerving. I guess I can see how he'd bring out the stalker instincts in any woman. Trust me, he has Bill Clinton-like captivating capabilities. All it will take is one halfway smart woman who is completely infatuated with the idea of loving someone that dang smart.

Anyway, there is my prediction. I think we're looking at a Presidential Candidate come 2024 or 2028.

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Frogs and Dogs

2007-07-15T20:44:00.000-04:00

My favorite boss - one of three - is one of these "all or nothing" people. It's pretty funny. Anyway, he's going through a really hard time - been stuck in a bad marriage for 7 years, and is honestly a really good guy. Staying in it for the sake of the kids.

I don't know what it is about people who are unhappy or lonely, but we get pets.
So my boss decides to buy a 60 gallon aquarium, along with five platys. All female. All pregnant.

So now my boss has 120 baby platys, all separated into their own little holding tanks so they don't get et*.

Boss convinces me to get an aquarium. Went to my new favorite thrift store, and bought a 30 gallon, perfectly working aquarium for $5. I'm a shopper extraordinaire, I tell you.

Then boss tells me that the local PetSmart has those African Dwarf Frogs - the itty bitty ones (as big as my pinky, maybe) that swim in the fishtank and eat the algae.

I freak. I've looked for those stinking frogs for close to 5 years now, and haven't been able to find them. Been told by a handful of pet store employees that those frogs don't come to GA.

I knew that they would go fast. I went home Thursday night (July 12th) and tell Z that we're getting fish. And frogs. He looked at me funny, as he knew I was on a rolling three day long manic state.

Saturday - Went to the Booth Museum for the first time with Charky and Momma in Law - Wow is that place gorgeous. Absolutely amazing art work. Very contemporary stuff, too. It looks like a Smithsonian museum, which it now is, I suppose. Crittersville is getting modern, people.

Go to favorite Noon meeting, which I am now the GSR of. That means Georgia State Representative, and it sounds a little politic and bureaucratic for me, considering I am so anti-establishment and I really just joined AA as someone who wanted recovery. Sanity. Contentment. The opportunity to visualize a better life through my blurry vision.

Then off to PetCo, which is recommended by a local Acworthian friend (it's cheaper than PetSmart). Pull into parking lot, and tell Z and Charky we are only looking at the Humane Society pets for a minute, then buying frogs.

Well it just didn't work that way. I was feeling pretty strong (1 mg. klonopin) and safe, so I felt like I could bond with the animals and pat all of them. Which was a lot of fun by the way. Pass two crates full of dalmatian-colored kitties. Pass a crate with a lab mix. Pass and pat a crate with a funny looking, sad-eyed brown and tan dog, who looks kind of little and skinny. Pass a chow-lab mix. Pass a wheaten terrier, who proceeds to growl at me so I skip the patting. Return back down the line, heading out towards the fish section. Stop at the funny looking tan and black dog.

Looked at this dog in the eyes. We gazed at eachother for a minute. I sat down next to the crate, and began to stroke him as best as I could through the bars. Timid, and retreated back from my hand a bit, but slowly the dog realized I was calm and of gentle spirit, so he allowed me to pat his face, his neck, his breast.

Slowly I stand up, and the Humane Society women proceed to explain that the dog is a girl, and she is 3. A Doberman Pinscher, and lived with 10 cats at her foster home. Very socialized, calm, regal, and gentle. A big house-baby, doesn't really want to go outside much. The owner just gave her up, said he didn't really want a dog anymore. Humane Society woman loves this dog, and wishes she could keep her.

I regretfully proceed to the fish section, where Charky is already yelling about some stingray. Z even more slowly follows behind, his gait labored. You can tell when he's walking slow because he's in pain or when he's pondering something significant.

I find the frogs, and discover my excitement is no longer about my coveted froggies. I'm thinking about that dog. My heart grows more weary, as I think about all the warnings Z has given - we don't have a fenced yard, we can barely afford our own family, we can't keep our house clean as is with two cats and destructo-kid.

Z looks at the frogs disinterestedly. I quietly say, "She's 3, and is house-broken, calm, and gets along with cats and children. Big house baby, sleeps on the couch."

I ask him what he's thinking.

Like usual, he gives me this passive answer: "I dunno. What are you thinking?".

I respond, "I'm debating whether to go ask those Humane Society ladies to let me walk the dog around the store on a leash."

Poof. Z is gone. I finish talking to the fish employee about my froggies, and ask all the questions I can think of. He kindly gets me a little canvas bag thingie to hold my bag of froggies and the water conditioner and other accessories.

Z shows up in the fish section with this lanky pooch, smooth-haired, with this skinny face and big sad eyes. She is following him at his side, practically hunching over, smelling everything and feeling a bit nervous with all of the activity smells children animals in that place. I sit down on the floor again, in the middle of the PetCo aisle, with my canvas bag holding the froggies at my side. Begin to pat and stroke her, and calm her down. She lays down on the floor, and puts her feet in my lap.

So we spend another hour and a half being emotionally torn about this dog. We don't need a dog. Consider that the Humane Society lady is really just selling the dog, because she wants it out of the shelter. Speak to her again and again, and find that she is one of these tender hearted animal lovers. She's interested in finding a good home for the dog as much as finding the right people for her.

Pace back and forth, contemplating this heart pull. Can't really afford the $150. Can't afford vet bills, and dog food. Still don't have a fence, although this dog is apparently not interested in going outside much.

Finally, after I run over my fears with Z - that we're making a decision based on emotion, and not logic - he looks in my eyes. I see what he's thinking.

"Family means that no one gets left behind."
- Lilo and Stitch
and

trusting your heart can be the smartest thing we can do - look at the heart decisions we made about our family - our children, your abortion, our falling in love. Our gut instincts - the ones that we knew in our heart to be the right answer, no matter the devil's advocate cons posed - are the ones that turned out to be right. Think about all of your huge regrets - when you applied logic to things that don't have logic involved."

So soon the dog is sitting next to Charky in the backseat of my Explorer, with the groceries in the back, sitting regally and watching us very seriously.

Despite all of my protestations in the PetCo, according to my research this morning she really is a Doberman Pinscher. A small one, albeit, but a pure-bred Dobie without a white spot to be found. Even has the traditional, show-quality tan breast marks on her chest. Very calm, and does love my kitties. Her name is Trixie, and my heart truly is bubbling over.

I pat her and bathed her and walked her and read about her online for hours. She is smart, and friendly, and playful. Still a bit timid, shakes and quakes a little easy. But there is a regal, serious pose about her that would be intimidating, if she wasn't so dang petite.

So that is my story. Frogs and Dogs. What an emotional weekend. I'm ready for bed.

*My acknowledgement of my slowly progressing Southernism.

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Snewo's Absence from the Blogosphere

2007-07-04T12:17:00.000-04:00

So obviously I've been incredibly busy. To you devoted readers, I apologize for my absence - in truth, my brain is absent, also.

You see, for the past month or so - since before the wedding, I've really been struggling with my highs and lows. (See my post from August 31, 2006). They're pretty stinking awful. I do have a number of situational issues that could provoke my longer-lasting depression, but overall, it feels like this unconquerable mood - a shadow covering my personality and psyche - that just won't go away. I hide in bed a lot, and have been coming home from work and just sleeping or reading. I've fallen behind in school, and am not feeling real on top of my studies. I'm a mess.

Being married to Z is a dream come true, I swear. He puts up with my mood swings and talks me through them...I couldn't have asked for a more sympathetic, in-touch-with-my-true-soul mate.

The last week has been a bit better - I feel more even. I had started seeing this Psychiatrist (the drug-prescribing nutty doctor) in Crittersville so I wouldn't have to take off work in Canton and drive to the old druggie shrink in Rome. This new guy is awesome - one of those incredibly smart people who talks fast and knows a whole bunch about a plethora of subjects. A West Point grad, and a Psychiatrist for the military during several war campaigns. He made me feel a lot better about my mental illness - he explained that the military and the government actually seek out persons with bipolar disorder, as we have this weird uncanny ability to read people...one of my talents. Talk about inspiring me to go for my doctorate in psychology and really start working in the field of my passion - psychotic serial killers.

I know, seems bizarre, but I totally have an interest in this shit. I have read and studied about every book written about criminal profiling and noted serial killers, and the behaviors common about them.

But enough about my future plans.
---------------------

Work is amazing, but I'm in a real dilemma. I recently got med insurance for the family through work, and now my net income for the year is about 16K....about a third of my former net. While this is positive from a tax standpoint come Feb. 2008, I am not quite used to the idea of struggling so hard to make ends meet.

But what do I do? I have the opportunity to take another job that relies upon my research skills from the insurance company. I'd be researching DOL and HR issues, and summarizing them for the executives.

I'm really stuck in a hard place because I love my job. I love what I'm learning - business development, HTML, java and Photoshop and Illustrator. It's not exactly in my long-term career plan, but it's definitely a job that will keep me from going nuts..very entreuprenurial in spirit, and I work independently and make strategic decisions based on analysis as the sole manager of ops.

---------------------

Second, I'm coming up on my 1st birthday from alcohol and the loony bin. And it sure is hard. When I'm depressed, all I really want to do is medicate the hurt away. I finally got a sponsor - the coolest chick of all time, wilder than me, just older - and I'm working on my 5th step (admitting all of my transgressions and character defects. But somehow I've lost my ability to shut down my mind and just meditate. The quiet isn't coming.

Dad gave me a copy of his "Intro to Meditation" CD by Alan Watts. I really wanted to download it to my IPod and listen to it on my walks at lunch every day. But my stinking IPod broke.

-----------------------

I know I'm a mess because I've lost 22 lbs and I have no interest in cooking or food. Totally unlike me. At this rate, I may finally look like my own ideation of Snewo by Christmas.

---------------------

I miss my best friend terribly, and wish she lived across the street like we had always planned. We could drink tea after work and bitch. I need a hug from her badly, and she's so far away it makes me more sad.

----------------------

On a more positive note, I'm learning web page design pretty quickly, and I'll hopefully begin to change my ugly blog template pretty soon. YAY! I've been really busy at work - creating blogs and creating memberships with forums and etc. But hopefully with this new firefox plugin I'll have a beautiful Anywhere But Here blog soon.

-----------------------

Resentful at my friend who skipped my wedding, and hasn't talked to me since. Wondering if she doesn't care, and is unhappy with me or my decision to marry Z.

------------------------

That's all for now. I have a bunch of non-Snewo stuff in a folder in my yahoo! email account to blog about, I just don't seem to have any more time.

Happy Independence Day! Thank God we can soon change our political criminals in power. We watched an Obama town hall meeting last night, and I totally saw a lot of JFK in him. He may just make me a true-believer (If you haven't seen Wag the Dog it's a must-see).

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Starving Entrepreneur got Inspiration Today

2007-06-04T10:31:00.000-04:00

Plenty of wedding updates are on the way, I promise. If you're interested, our post-wedding-announcement hit the Crittersville paper yesterday.

In the meantime, I was brought out of my misery about my financial state by this article:

"What Being A Deadhead Taught Me About Being An Entrepreneur"

Enough to make me feel better about being poor in the interim.

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2 Day Countdown Til I'm Legal

2007-05-24T18:30:00.000-04:00

Lol. I'm popping klonopins and making lists and trying to focus at work and talking to the cake lady and making hair appointments and playing interception between my mother and my mother-in-law and trying to spend time with my best friend.

And there's more, I'm sure. If I halfway like the photos of me I'll post some - just two days away.

Wish me luck, I doubt I'll have time to post more.

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An A-Z; Pre-Wedding

2007-05-20T19:36:00.001-04:00

I'm pondering:

A. How to complete a fourth and fifth step and feel like I've hit all my bases...if you aren't familiar with the fifth step, here they are:

4.

Made a searching and fearless personal inventory of ourselves.
5.
Admitted to our Higher Power, to ourselves, and to another human being, the exact nature of our wrongs.

B. Meeting and having the coolest sponsor ever...she's like me but wilder.

C. Writing wedding vows, we're having a few differences of opinion.

D. Filling sachets with lavender

E. What to do with the other 4 lb. of lavender

F. Why I got into a spat with a girl at work Friday...I was actually pretty cool about it. My quote, repeated calmly three times:

" You have no right to be angry. You have no right to speak with me that way."

G. Why the stupid colorist did as good of a job as I do myself, and I paid $85

H. How to get myself a massage this week, because I'm dying here and it would be a great pre-wedding present for Z and I

I. How to get my kid to sit still and have her hair done

J. How to make $50,000 this month at work. We're at 30....and eking along.

K. What the shrink will say about my kid when they meet Tues.

L. How my Mom needs help planning a wedding grocery list

M. How excited I am that all these people are cool enough to want to come to my wedding.

N. How to make signs for the road that help people find the wedding, and how funny it is that Z's ex-wife's parents moved a 1/4 mile down the road from my parents house...hence, they'll see the signs. He wants to leave them up for a week or so.

O. How he made me change my last name.

P. Did I mention I'm getting married in 6 days? Do you know how overwhelming, freaked out, and excited I am all at once?

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Mirror Mirror

2007-05-11T06:07:00.000-04:00

I'm a bit bewildered, so forgive me if I don't have much time to post. Lots and lots going on, including:

2 weeks til my wedding, which I have now officially been nominated CEO of Planning
Starting a business, and actually having a record month in sales !
Working on my 4th and 5th step - which if you know what they are you know they suck.
Dealing with this god-awful professor, and fired him two days ago
Dealing with this god-awful team
Trying to find more invitations because I realize I've forgotten people
Having a yard sale
and so on and so on.

Let me know if something else happens exciting in your life.

OH! And don't let me forget to post about this awesome customer I talked to yesterday - she's one of these thought-leaders who is really changing the world.

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Sharing My wedding Tunes

2007-04-29T20:13:00.000-04:00

Sorry y'all. Being CEO of the Snewo family is hard work, and I'm tired of paying attention to detail. I'm ready for a nice long snooze.

I purchased most of the songs to be played at our wedding, and they are so awesome I'm now listening to the itunes list as I write. I'm not tech proficient enough to use that service where I share with you my playlist, so I'm just going to jot a few down here.

Recommended music for the minute, until Z bitches there isn't any Christina Aguilera.

- "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" - Israel Kamakawiwi
- "Nightswimming" - REM
- "Follow Your Bliss" -The B-52s
- "Crystal" - Fleetwood Mac
- "Save Me" - Aimee Mann
- "I Will Follow You Into The Dark" - Death Cab for Cutie
- "When You Say Nothing At All" - Alison Krauss
- "Santa Monica" - Everclear
- "Grow Old With You" - Adam Sandler
- "Leather and Lace" - Stevie Nicks
- "Square One" - Tom Petty
- "So Are You To Me" - Eastmountainsouth
- "Island in the Sun" - Weezer
- "Try a Little Tenderness" - Otis Redding
- "Little Latin Lupe Lu" - Righteous Bro.
- "Patience" - GNR
- "Can I Stay" - Ray laMontagne
- "IO" - Helen Stellar
- "Bubble Toes" - Jack Johnson
- "Love is Here to Stay" - Ella and Louis

That's all I can type I'm tired. Ol doc put me on some sleep-easy stuff. Whooowheee.

Buy rocking chairs from me, Beeachttch.

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God Said NO

2007-04-27T21:11:00.000-04:00

We talk about this a lot in AA meetings...

God Said NO!

I asked God to take away my habit. God said, No.
It is not for me to take away, but for you to give it up.

I asked God to make my handicapped child whole. God said, No.
His spirit is whole, his body is only temporary.

I asked God to grant me patience. God said, No.
Patience is a byproduct of tribulations; it isn't granted, it is learned.

I asked God to give me happiness. God said, No.
I give you blessings; Happiness is up to you.

I asked God to spare me pain. God said, No.
Suffering draws you apart from worldly cares and brings you closer to me.

I asked God to make my spirit grow. God said, No.
You must grow on your own, but I will prune you to make you fruitful.

I asked God for all things that I might enjoy life. God said, No.
I will give you life, so that you may enjoy all things.

I asked God to help me LOVE others, as much as He loves me.
God said...Ahhhh, finally you have the idea.

THIS DAY IS YOURS DON'T THROW IT AWAY

"Good friends are like stars...You don't always see them, but you know they are always there.

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Silly is you in a natural state, and serious is something you have to do until you can get silly again."

2007-04-23T20:40:00.001-04:00

Mike Myers, Actor.

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Only the Man behind the gun has free speech.

2007-04-21T16:25:00.001-04:00

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These are the voyages of Snewo's Enterprise

2007-04-07T07:16:00.000-04:00

So I am in a bit of a funk. I find myself in this particular spot quite a bit, you see, and wish I knew how to work it out.

How do I help others? My spirit just isn't that gosh-darned dynamic, I guess....I can't inspire others to change. I think I may have been like that once - I seem to remember a bunch of little snewo groupies - but I'm thinking I lost my desire to be the boss.

That's my only question for today. Instead of becoming frustrated and irritated that they won't allow me to help, or that they aren't listening, how do I become a guide? I better get this lesson learned pretty quickly....my dream job kind of requires it and I'm only 4+ years away from that.

How do you serve as a guide/problem-solver for others, instead of just an open ear?

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Sitting here in High Point

2007-03-30T09:11:00.000-04:00

Which is a goofy name for a city whose elevation is around 700.

But I'm attending this god-awful trade show today, and I'm rebelling and not getting dressed yet because I don't want to go walk around the universe looking at chairs. The ride to Greensboro from Atlanta wasn't really that bad, but now it seems my ass hurts and my back hurts and I need a cigarette.

So why am I here, you ask? When I could be busy shopping online?

Because I got a stinking message on myspace, and I logged in to check it. I can't, by the way, because myspace is for retards and you can't find shit on your own profile page. Don't let me start in again on how myspace is for losers. You people can get some goshdarned computer skills and make a blog, dammit. Because I said so.

North Carolina is weird. Zach and I came up with a commentary on East NC last night - it's either for the absolute poor or for Southern Yuppies - which are the worst kind, by the way. And of course this is just from our tiny glance at the landscape from the highway, so we really don't know shit.

But Charlotte, NC sucks because I can't find a t-shirt for my daughter, who was really excited about one.

Charlotte NC doesn't suck because they have a Jack in the Box, and Z and I cooeed for a good 2 hours about their crummy little tacos.

Wellford, SC doesn't suck because we stopped and found a field and well, you know. Outside sex is much better than it is inside.

Ta Ta

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At least I don't say "ain't"

2007-03-10T09:40:00.000-04:00

I yelled at Charky last night at dinner when she said ain't. Twice in a row. I told her that only rednecks say ain't, and that she can speak proper english. We can pretend we're socially liberal, but of the upper class. Ain't is fine for reading - such as Zora Neale Hurston. Ain't is not a word for our vocabulary.

When I moved to Georgia, I took voice lessons from this grande dame diva. I have a lot of experience with women like that - when I was little I was involved in all of these community productions all directed by grande dames. One in particular made me laugh - she lived next door to "The Beaver", and he came by and visited us while we rehearsed. The way she would swoop around with her arms acting as gliders, very akin to a bird, was truly drag-queen. Anyway, this latest Floridian diva who lived in Georgia always congratulated me because she didn't have to teach me english. She said that she couldn't stand teaching the natives - a southern drawl incorporated into the Venus aria of Wagner's Geliebter, komm! would sound really icky.

So Z's mom sent me a quiz - "Yankee or Dixie?"
http://www.angelfire.com/ak2/intelligencerreport/yankee_dixie_quiz.html

I mean, I'm from California, people. We invented the word "suck", which I still use all the time. And we also invented the use of the word "gay" (As in, "That is soooooo gay"), which I use until Z socks me in the arm. I try to avoid using "like", as I think it sounds awful. But "awesome" and "cool" are still incorporated into Snewo language.

But I speak dixie. Oh well.

69% (Dixie). A definitive Southern score!

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Ann Coulter is a big fat doodoo head

2007-03-06T22:04:00.000-04:00

And I don't even need to tell you why. Just read Former US Marine Staff Sergeant Eric Alva's response.

http://andrewsullivan.theatlantic.com/the_daily_dish/2007/03/faggots.html

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On Being A 26 Year Old Mother

2007-03-04T10:47:00.000-04:00

I told y'all my stepdaughter ("Am") just made me a grandma. Only 2 weeks before, her best-friend since 1st grade, "Em", also had a daughter named Madeline.

In a way it was kind of sick - these two babies having babies. On the other hand, they acted like the ol' Hillary Clinton novel "It Takes A Village". You know what I mean. One taking a nap, the other caring for two newborns. My stepdaughter running out to go get more diapers, and best friend Em rocking a little baby in each arm. It kind of gave us comfort knowing that two heads were better than one. Decisions would most likely have a sounding board there and ready to help. It made us feel better - like our stepdaughter wouldn't be so alone, and perhaps she wouldn't make any major mistakes?

You know, when you leave the hospital, unless you have a really incredible nursing staff, they won't go into a lot of in-depth talking about :

A. Which way to lay your newborn to sleep -on the belly or on the back?
B. What to do when your baby acts like it has a tapeworm and won't stop drinking, and screams when you won't give it anymore?
C. The proper way to fit a diaper, so it doesn't chafe against their little leg rolls and etc.

Yesterday we went to visit the grandbaby, which is becoming our usual Saturday routine. For the past couple Saturdays we have gone, and it is really quite wonderful. I'm always glad that when someone else is hogging the baby (THAT'S MY GRANDBABY. MINE. I WANT TO HOLD HER.) I have another very beautiful baby waiting in the bassinet who also likes my little stories about walking through the forest and fishing in the streams.

We called my stepdaughter on our way down, and told her we were coming. She told us we better re-think our plans.

Em was napping with Madeline yesterday, and when she woke up, Madeline was unconscious/unbreathing/un-heartbeating. She tried infant CPR, and waited for the EMT. They arrived, and after 45 minutes they were able to get a pulse back. Not good.

They sent her to Atlanta by helicopter, and put her in ICU. The prognosis wasn't good. From Z's accident 5 years ago, I know that anything over about 4+ minutes of non-pulse non-breathing means brain damage, usually life-support vegetative state brain damage. I can only imagine how vulnerable a 3-week-old would be to this kind of oxygen deprivation.

Last night, Z bought some movies for us to watch, hoping to kind of keep my mind off of the whole thing. In the middle of one, I made him take a bathroom break and I called stepdaughter. Stepdaughter was in the room with Em and Madeline, so I spoke with Em's momma. They were all going in there to kiss the baby goodbye, and that she wasn't going to make it.

I cried some, and watched the end of "Click" - which was really disappointing, by the way, except for the fact that for the first time ever, Adam Sandler was married to a chick who is hotter than him.

At the end of the movie, Am called me back, and just cried and cried - she couldn't tell me but I knew. I told her what my momma always told me about death:

Momma wishes that when she dies, it's in her sleep. No pain, just like ending a long dream that you never wake up from. She seems pretty sure that the dream you would have right before death would be a good one, thinking about your favorite memory or people.

So I told Am that it was a good way. A newborn dreaming away....nothing hurting her, nothing scaring her, just thinking about something wonderful that you can tell babies are dreaming about by the pinched up eyes they get with that wonderful, soft open-mouth.

It was after this phone call that I felt old. Really old. I was just talking to someone yesterday, before we took off to go see the babies, about how it is in my so-called plans to wait another four years before I have another. I have too much school to get through, you see. Z doesn't feel great about that - he'll be 40 this year. But he loves me, and says he'll do whatever he has to, baby-make or not, in order to be with me.

And here I am trying to make my adult stepdaughter feel better about the death of her god-daughter. The girl that was supposed to grow up with her own daughter, like two peas in a pod. It's a very weird feeling when people begin to rely upon you, when you know you certainly aren't that reliable. But they do. And having to come up with words that matter touches your own heart and makes you realize how hard it is to be a teacher. You have to craft what you say, carefully, and hope you don't misinform or mis-spell the things your heart is saying.

I liked what Z's mom told me last night. She said that if Madeline was really meant to be here, she will.

I hope it was a lovely dream, and I would've been honored if it was my story to her about the bunnies and the deer and the squirrels who let you pat them as you walk through the forest and eat apples.

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Leonardo Di Caprio, "The Departed", and Phuket/Phi Phi

2007-02-25T20:11:00.000-04:00

This is a little jumbled, so forgive me.

1. Friday night, Z came home around 9 PM from work. I had a present - my mom lent me "The Departed". I just had to turn it in to Blockbuster the next day.

Great movie. If you like Scorsese, and gangster flicks in general, it will really do it for you. I thought Jack Nicholson was way campy and kind of crappy, but I did decide that Leonardo DiCraprio can act. I mean, I saw "Gangs of New York" mostly because I love Daniel Day Lewis. He's the intellectual-hot-man. And Leo was ok, even if he does have a bird chest that reminds me of this ultra-hot guy I once dated who wouldn't take his shirt off. Ever. Because his chest had a significant bowl shape indention. People used to make fun of him and say you could eat cereal out of it. But he sure was hot. Last I heard he got back from a modeling stint in Milan.

My point was that Leo's chest got wider, and he did a great job. Go see it.

2. Before we watched "The Departed", Z came into the office, where I was on Britney Spears' Midnight Fantasy website, filling out entries for all my friends to get an audio file of a "midnight fantasy" in Britney's voice. Z said:

"Do you want to go to Hong Kong?"

My nose wrinkled. As some of you may know, Z and I have an absolute parting of the minds when it comes to travel and vacations. I like the beach, preferably with some amazing local food nearby. Z likes man-made wonders, like Vegas. Yuck. I've had enough concrete jungle to last me my entire life. I was practically raised in Los Angeles, and I spent way too much time in Atlanta. Humans and their big buildings just don't do it for me.

Turns out Z's best friend is planning a trip in November to Hong Kong and Singapore. We think he's trying to get a wife. If any of you have some wonder stories about eHarmony, please email me. I'd really love to get him away from a woman who just wants a green card and a man with money. Which he is.

So he invited us. And I said yuck. For the price of airfare there we could go to Hawaii.

Then I remembered my recent Fodors readings about Thailand. During the tsunami of '05, much of the most beautiful beach in the world was shown in South Asia. Apparently european travelers love it there - it's like their version of the Mexican Riviera. But more beautiful.

Leonardo DiCaprio was in a movie several years back called "The Beach", where he ran off to a deserted island in South Asia. It was paradise, and he intended to pull a Robinson Crusoe there.

"The Beach" was filmed in a place called Phi Phi, on the island of Phuket (part of Thailand). And it is one of the most beautiful places on earth.

So I thought, shoot. Let's fly to Hong Kong, get best friend an okay on his bride, and go to Phuket. We can eat bugs and crap there and get an amazing tan and snorkel in crystalline waters.

Anyone know anything about Phuket? And Phi Phi?

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A Letter To My Future Self

2007-02-23T22:15:00.000-04:00

One of my favorite bloggers, "A Crow In The Snow" http://www.crowinthesnow.net/blog/ is part of a blogging community called "Community of Bloggers" http://www.pluggedout.com - oddly enough.

I admit that my visit to the Community was a bit capricious. I'm haphazardly keeping an eye on this whole "commercialization of blogs" thing, because it means something to me at work. Hence meaning something to me monetarily, which, oddly enough, is really one of my passions at the moment. Who knew that someone like me - the "Defensively American Poor" - is interested in the almighty dolla.

But I found this link in the Community detailing suggestions for Memes. I like memes a lot. In my current proud zealotry of blogging I said that I would only write about things meaningful. That's really narcissistic, isn't it? "But I love memes....", so says my monkey mind. "Memes are easy and fun and remind me a bit of that game we used to play in 5th grade where we listed 4 boys we liked, then the four places we could live, then how many babies we could have...."

Mindless fun. And I'm so tempted right now.

One of the memes was a little deep and difficult, though.

"WRITE A LETTER TO YOUR FUTURE SELF".

Wow. That's hard. What do you say? Do you try and make your current state of affairs seem better than it is? Do you try and make the you of now a significant creature? Aren't we all stuck in this place of insecurity, wishing we were doing more fun things, enjoying the journey more and blah blah blah?

Well yes. I dare any one of you to say

"Absolutely not. I'm in the best place of my entire life and I couldn't ask for more."

I'm not being pessimistic. I just don't know anyone that content. If I can find someone who will say that to me I'll probably pull a nut-job like my godmother did and start following that happy content person around the world, the way she did with the Maharishi.

So that is my homework project for the next few weeks. Try and write a letter to my future self, and describe my life the way it is. That seems awfully revealing, doesn't it? Yick. I hate feeling vulnerable. Aaargh. This sounds way yucky as each minute passes.

It's a date. See Snewo's "Letter To My Future Self" in an upcoming post.

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I apologize. I'm Not Politically Correct.

2007-02-20T19:58:00.000-04:00

My soon-to-be stepdaughter made me a soon-to-be stepgrandma last week. I may or may not have mentioned that my stepdaughter looks like a grown up, slutty Annie. The baby daddy looks like Wesley Snipes, but skinnier.

I'm mixed race myself, but according to my friends, "You can't tell unless you see your Mom". I know my skin is funny colored - more yellowish than peach - and my hair is delightfully curly. It frizzes up into some kind of mutated hairball in humidity. Oh, and I'm hairless, too, on my body. I'm one of these blessed people who doesn't have to shave her legs but quarterly. I figure that's because of my darker-skinned (espresso and cafe au lait) forebears.

Anyway, my stepdaughter's best friend also had a daughter three weeks ago, so they are like two peas in a pod. Both sitting around, nursing two newborns, and taking care of eachother and their babies like "It Takes A Village To Raise A Child". Best friend is also mixed, and has a skin color that resembles 2/3 coffee mixed with 1/3 milk.

Their babies are pink. Big, huge brown eyes that look like oil pools. Gorgeous. But they are pink.

And it's a little weird. Best friend made the comment, "Her baby is whiter than mine". Because it is a little weird. I mean, maybe everybody grows into their skin color. My daughter was fuschia for the first week or so, then jaundiced. But pink? Like, Macaulay Culkin pink?

If someone can help us out here, please do. There isn't anything worse than not knowing what to say in moments like "Look at how beautiful her skin is, it's _______________". I hate to say "White". That's awful. I yelled at Charky just a month ago about how I don't check that little "White" box because it isn't right. We're not. We're proudly of mixed racial heritage, thanks, much unlike my own parents and grandparents are and were. Proud, I mean.

I did say, "Look at how beautiful her skin is, it's pink". And I automatically got a whole lot of swivvelled heads turned and looking at me. Was that wrong? Baby skin is beautiful, and my grandbaby's skin is creamy, with little pink tones under the nose, and eyes, and mouth. I felt like I was given a funny look for calling her pink, and I'm not sure if it's because calling someone pink is innappropriate? Kind of like calling someone "black" or "white" is just as unfair?

Is it wrong to wonder if her skin will change color as she grows older? Her daddy looks almost persian, with really strong, lean facial features. Will she look Indian or Pakistani? Back in the day my peoples came from India, so I know what that looks like in pink people. Will she look like that?

I suppose it's a bit like contemplating all newborns. We try to say "She has her dad's ears" or "Those are her mom's feet". But really, we don't know what the fuc& we're talking about. We all try to catch a glimpse of that baby face, and determine what the baby will look like at 1, at 2, at 12....

But is it wrong to call her pink? I certainly thought it was wrong to describe her as "whiter" than another baby. Pink?

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Death to Blogs

2007-02-19T20:31:00.000-04:00

I have a minute or two before I'm set to read more of "Bridge to Terabithia" with the insane child.

Blogging, RSS Feeds, SEO (Search Engine Optimization), branding, and cross-utilization of all mentioned afore has become my job du jour.

However, I am getting wind of a certain movement. It's in response to the idiots on MySpace. It's in response to everyone out there who figures out that they can have a free blog, and have server space somewhere to host it, and enough friends to keep it alive.

Blogs are goofy. They were made goofy by dumb wanna-debutantes living in NYC who feel that their lives are really interesting to those of us stuck in the burbs. Sorry, Sex and The City fulfilled that need for me, and I don't need anymore, thanks mother.

Blogs are asinine. Reading all of these wanna-be-political opinionistas write about the war, and Bush, and act like they know a goddamned thing about how the US political machine really runs is exhausting and satirical. Everyone's suddenly a expert.

Blogs are sometimes too much. Like photos. I don't need a photo of every gosh darned thing that happens in my life. I remember it just fine. It loses it's specialness if its all there in a million pixels. Same thing with blogs. You don't need to hear how my latest cup of coffee tasted, nor how my most recent spat went. The minutiae of life just isn't that compelling. And there are writers out there who actually make a lot of money writing about the minutiae, and making it compelling. Us amateurs put it on overload and act like it's creative.

Anyway, the idea that blogging will soon become an act of the past distressed me. I enjoy writing sometimes. I keep pondering the idea of putting another blog up anonymously, and writing whatever the hell I want to. So I can contemplate all the things I'm not allowed to say to people I know.

But for pete's sake. I don't even search for other good blog reads anymore. I have two or three I check on, because I like who I met through the text on the page. Somehow, however, reading someone's latest excapade at the Doctor or their comment on Anna Nicole and Britney's head and a pic of what they ate seems like a really bad farce.

I can only imagine what Shakespeare would come up with about bloggers. Or Tim Burton. Or Truman Capote, because somehow I think that he knew how to twist reality around and talk about it and make it seem really insipid.

So me and you just made a pact. I will no longer waste space on the internet like every other fuc&head. I will continue to protest against unabashed internet use, as I believe we are trapped in a box and aren't really living lives anymore.

I already turned my daughter's TV off for good. I can tell we aren't far behind. It's time to turn all the idiot boxes off and come up with something meaningful to talk about. I mean, jeez.

Would Jesus Even Care Enough To Say Something About George Bush?

I think not.

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Get Paid to Surf The Web All Day

2007-02-15T06:07:00.000-04:00

I started my dream job on Monday, and I figure I'd give y'all an update.

My boss asked me yesterday, "How do you like it over there?". You see, my job is a little isolating. There are a few people nearby (within 30 ft.) but it's quiet. Other than me talking on the phone, and the random stop-by by other folks, and me stopping to talk to people on my way back from my water-fill-up, I'm alone.

So, "How do you like it over there?"

I wanted to burst out into laughter and ask, "Who else gets paid to surf the web all day?"

It's amazing and great and a whole lot of fun. I locate new products to sell online, and new wholesalers to contact. I talk to other people about the stuff they sell. Yesterday I spoke with this lovely man from Austria about his German-made products, and how they are so much better. We also talked about how Americans are only willing to spend so much money: if something has infinitely higher quality and costs double Americans won't give it a look.

I dig through trade books and analyze our competitors and dig into price points and the MAP bars that wholesalers set. I determine which products are the most sought after, and focus my research on locating the coolest products in that segment.

I feel like I get to do what I've always dreamed about: Being a personal shopper for the masses. For those of you who know my mother, you are well aware of a distinct family trait we share:
We know what to buy and where to find it at the lowest price possible.

When I was a young catering girl in Buckhead, I spent a lot of time at ADAC (Atlanta Decorative Arts Center http://www.adacdesigncenter.com/welcome.html. I was amazed. I felt like a Sultan at a bazaar, picking out things to stick in my palace.

I get to act like a style guru. I decide what is cool and what people will like. If I'm right, we make a lot of money.

Anyway, I'm going to start up a new blog soon for the business. I won't link to it through here, because that blog will be dedicated to consumer outreach. But for those of you who want it, email me for the link. I'll tell you what is new in the "Casual Living" retail market, and what you want to do to your backyard, and what accessories you need.

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I'M A GRANNY!

2007-02-15T05:54:00.000-04:00

By the time most of you read this, I'll be the youngest granny on earth. We got the call at 4 AM, and our valentine's day baby is coming very shortly. I'm anxious and excited and pissed because I have a cold and can't go hug my step-daughter right now.

I actually got a little wistful a minute ago while making coffee.
For those of you who don't have kids, I'm sure you can imagine the absolute crazy thrill of having your own. And your first...that's the miracle moment right there.

My best-friend's http://www.transplantedgirl.blogspot.com little sister had her baby not so long ago. Read my post here...
http://anywherebut.blogspot.com/2006_07_01_archive.html

She asked me, beforehand, what it was like. I was really stuck. What do you tell someone about giving birth? The best explanation I have for the feeling is right here:

It's like falling in love for the very first time.

Trite and goofy, I know. But the absolute truth.

Wish me luck, and my step-daughter luck being a 18 year old single momma.

And yes, I intend to be called "Granny Goose".

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Papa Smurf, Gargamel, Azrael and Puppy

2007-02-11T14:34:00.000-04:00

Z and I were arguing. He says Gargamel was the bad guy's cat. I said Gargamel was the bad guy and the cat had another name. So just for reference, if you need to know the Smurf characters more in-depth, here is the link for the Smurf characters:

http://www.timelesstrinkets.com/Smurfs/CollectorPages/Characters.html

Now someone just needs to find me the Fraggle Rock song lyrics again.

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Voice Mail From The Devil

2007-02-09T19:14:00.000-04:00

These voice mail recordings are becoming more and more weird as time goes by. In the past, the voice mail lady would just ask you if you wanted to:

Press 1: "Send your message now"
Press 2: "Send your message with a priority flag"
Press 3: "Listen to your message"
Press 4: "Re-record your message"

I just called and left a message for a friend, and his voice mail was like way-complex ... the mackdaddy voice messaging system. I wonder if he has such cool answering options because he is an attorney. You know, to avoid people or make them start swearing and then they forget to leave a message.

Press 1 to Send Your Message Now
Press 2 to Send Your Message More Urgently Even Faster Than Now
Press 3 to Listen to Your Message
Press 4 to Attach a Fax To Your Message
Press 5 to Attach a Pager or Cell Phone Number to Your Message
Press 6 to Send a Notification to Your Blackberry When This Person Gets Your Message
Press 7 to Send a Notification to Your Treo When This Person Gets Your Message
Press 8 to Have your Cell Phone Vibrate When This Person Gets Your Message
Press 9 to Have your Personal Assistant's Cell Phone Vibrate When This Person Gets Your
Message
Press 10 to send a big F&CK YOU to This Person So They Know What Your Message Is

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Sprouting Wheat Berries

2007-02-09T10:49:00.000-04:00

My best friend http://www.transplantedgirl.blogspot.com is sprouting wheat berries for bread.

"Sprouting Wheat Berries"

I can't tell if that sounds like:

1. A metaphor for an overgrown nest down there.
2. What in vitro clinic workers do.
3. The action we take with some grow lights and only 3 seeds, because Woody Haralson taught us we can go to jail for more than that.
4. The high school band put together by the Dolores O'Riordan wannabes.
5. Anne Geddes' latest work, because apparently she hates babies and would like to sprout them for bread. http://www.thelighthouseonline.com/messages/archives/2003/10/anne_geddes--se.html
6. What asshole 7th grade boys say about the latest erupting set of tits, which they are endlessly obsessing in a kind of sicko way.

And so on.

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Tabernacle Baptist Church Missionaries Killed In Honduras Crash

2007-02-08T16:10:00.000-04:00

Yes, in my old age I'm becoming less anti-establishment.

My daughter's 1st grade schoolteacher is the nicest woman in the world. I swear. Her husband is the Pastor of Tabernacle Baptist Church in Cartersville, GA. Since meeting her, my entire perception of Baptists has completely changed.

Two missionaries from Tabernacle were recently killed in a truck wreck in Honduras. 10 other passengers were injured.

Read about the slain missionaries here:

http://www.spcm.org/Journal/spip.php?article6380

I don't know if any of you are agnostic or atheists as I once was, but I've discovered prayer has made me a more content human. I think that is what we all seek for - grace and happiness and a certain sense that everything is alright.

If you can, please pray for the missionaries' families, and the Tabernacle Church family. They are grieving, and I completely understand. I don't have a single problem with us fortunates trying to bring something to those less fortunate. Missionaries should be commended for paying their dues.

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"Better Angels"

2007-02-08T12:01:00.000-04:00

By Lesley Gore. This song is amazing....here is the link to listen. http://www.lesleygore.com/lesleygore/

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I GOT MY DREAM JOB! MY BUTT IS WIGGLING!

2007-02-07T16:43:00.001-04:00

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Just a Minute of Gratitude

2007-02-06T18:09:00.000-04:00

Because I feel guilty for bitching.

1. My elliptical is finally fixed. Yay!

2. My house is well, and I realized that I avoided the flu this year! Yay for cubicle-free living!

3. Even though it broke over the weekend, my stupid crackberry is working. So I can check my voicemails. That's a Yay and really a BOO at the same time.

4. I was able to pay my mortgage this month.

5. I have all my W-2s, and I made 10K less last year since I took 3 months off work (fired). So I'll make more money off the guvment. Yay.

6. My friend Tamara is buying her first house! Yay for single moms everywhere!

7. My parents had a nice time in NYC over the weekend and arrived home safe. And got to go to the American Museum of Natural History, which is my new must-do place since "Night at the Museum". Which was great, by the way. For all of you little kids who really liked going to the museum it's our fulfilled fantasy.

8. My soon-to-be stepdaughter is fixing to bust, making me the youngest step-granny of all time. That's a yay and a BOO, but really, I'm grateful. That it's not me! Hahahaha.

9. I had a way-cool interview on Friday for a job I'd dream of and working in a place I'd like. For three very cool guys who seem like big funny brothers. I'm grateful for getting to go, and hope it will work out.

10. Today I haven't had a drink in 7 months and 2 days. Lately I've really, really wanted to pick up a bottle and take it home, but I've walked on by. In AA they ask newcomers to try moderate drinking, in order to see if they have a problem or not. I have no doubt, after I spend 10 minutes thinking about that bottle I pass in the grocery store, that I would buy it with the intentions of drinking moderately. And then proceed to finish the whole thing. And get irritated because I wasn't drunk yet, and go climb in the truck to head for the nearest gas station. And then buy something absolutely awful but in great quantities.....

But this is a grateful post. And I am grateful to be healthy (somewhat) and sane (even less somewhat) and getting by.

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Just a Minute of Bitching

2007-02-06T17:38:00.000-04:00

Snewo-lovers everywhere! Time to rejoice (and bitch) like usual! On Tuesday!

Just real quick, here are my bitches of the moment:

1. That I'm managing to feed my family on $37.50 per week is absolutely freaking ridiculous. And that is without any government assistance of any kind. The fact you can eat and wipe your ass and wash your hair and clean your ears for only $160 per month totally makes me realize what a spender I was. Now if I can just sustain this poverty-budget when I really have money, then I could pay back my debts.

2. My debts really are starting to suck. I went and got a credit report the other day because when you have an "adverse action" taken against you, the FCRA (Fair Credit Reporting Act) allows you a free report. In most states, you can have a free report anyway, but I figure as long as I'm getting screwed because my credit score sucks I should at least know why. Anyway, I know from doing this research project at my old job that under the FCRA, an insurance company can't take an adverse action against you in the case of medical debts. In some cases, showing why you were so poor (divorce, unemployed) will also help. HOWEVER...these standards apparently do not apply to employers. I've already been turned down by a job due to my "credit-worthiness". I'm beginning to believe that it will also effect my candidacy for this new insurance job I'm trying to get.

It's not like I have defrauded anybody. My credit card has been maxed out for over two years, and I've been steadily paying the interest ($150) each month, and a little extra when I can. Now that I'm unemployed, satan credit card company has turned over my $5k account to a debt collector, and it's on my credit report as a collection.

The other miscellaneous items on my credit report are all medical. After my car wreck in 2005, I tried to pay off everybody...the hospital, the EMT, the diagnostic lab, etc. (The car insurer refused to pay). I still apparently have a couple bills out there, mostly in little amounts like $30. It's amazing how they affected my credit-worthiness.

I know I've bitched about my current medical insurer. They're "Blue" and they suck for being my favorite color and being complete bitches at the same time. Anyway, I had to go to the shrink right after I started my job, and "Blue" hadn't sent me my new insurance card. So the stupid shrink has me in collections for a whopping $375, half hour consultation. Which the insurer is refusing to pay. Fuc&ers. And now I'm almost out of crazy meds, and I can't go back to the shrink until the bill is resolved. Asswipes.

So I'm bitching about my credit worthiness. I understand if I were to run up 3 or 4 credit cards and never pay them why I wouldn't be considered financially responsible. If I had declared bankruptcy, I understand. If I hadn't had paid off my two credit cards that my ex-husband ran up (10K) I would understand. Dammit, I pay who I can. Give me a goshdarned job so I can continue to pay who I can. And continue going to school, because apparently I can't get any more student loans either.

3. I missed watching Six Feet Under on Bravo last night because I had to get up early for an interview. Without coffee in the house.

4. I have to take Charky to Brownies tonight and I hate those catty women there and I haven't sold 100 boxes of girl scout cookies like they set the goal for. Bitches. Am I the only parent tired of selling crap for our kids? Charky gets upset because they won't give her prizes and let her participate in stuff because I won't sell crap for her, but dammit they've had 5 separate fundraisers already this year. Fundraise for me, fuc$ers.

5. Can you tell my blood sugars have hit 500 in the past four days?

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Spam Emails Need an Emotional Duress Lawsuit Posed Against Them

2007-01-30T22:44:00.000-04:00

I don't have long to post, I have an elliptical appointment beginning in 15 minutes coinciding with the Orange County Housewives (because I have a reality tv addiction that requires intervention).

Do you take a look at the spam in your bulk mail folder? If I were in a depressed state, those emails could sure make me take a turn for the worse. It's like the man out there somewhere is visibly reading into my subconscious, taking every single worry and fear out of my head and making me offers to rid myself of said evils.

For example, here are a few of the messages in my bulk folder today:

Debt Consolidation
Debt consolidation made easy

Global Warming - VOTE for $250
Is Global Warming a SCAM?? Vote YES or NO and earn $250!!!

Scholarship Awards
Time is running out to apply for a $10,000 scholarship

Clear Debt
Don't consolidate debt--Eliminate It!

Online Degrees
Top Online schools you want

24Hour Loan
Enjoy a new car no matter what your credit status is

Find Love
Find your soul mate today.

Pay for College
Apply today for a $10,000 scholarship giveaway

24Hour Car
Get financing for a new car in 60 second

Rewards Request Center
Get a $250 JC Penney Gift Card on us - see details inside

Online Schooling
Start your higher education today

Hoodia Weight Loss
As seen on CBS 60 Minutes - Hoodia Gordonii

Beauty Samples
Sample NEW Body Wash with Body Butter & more!

Military.com
Military Education Benefits

Pay for Education
Apply today for a $10,000 scholarship giveaway

Tax Brain
You could file taxes online at TaxBrain and get cash in as little as 24hrs. Free...

Chewing Gum Samples
Get Your 12 Packs of Dentyne Ice!

I know that gave you a headache reading those crappy email examples. But my point is this: How do these people know that I am currently:

- Overweight and desperately trying to fix it
- Completely broke and fixing to start picking up aluminum cans off the side of the road
- Politically distraught, because George Bush hurts my "Mr.Smith" mentality
- Freaking out about school, because I can't get another student loan ( I only have 10 months
left, people. This really sucks.)

Do they psychically sense my issues over the internet? I know my web surfing doesn't do it, because I'm a pretty savvy web-surfer. It's not like I click on any popups or anything.

But these motherfuc&ers want to cure my money problems, my love needs, my higher education desires, and my political angst. THEY KNOW. The man is out there, lighting up a Camel Light, drinking a nice chilled glass of smirnoff, wearing a chinchilla coat and absentee voting republican while trying to suck me in to his vapid pool of human despair.

Thanks for letting me vent. I got a little worked up. I promise not to pay attention to my bulk folder any longer.

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Good Earth

2007-01-30T14:03:00.000-04:00

A long, long time ago, I lived in a greater state of consciousness and plasticity called California. I've noticed that many popular ideas start in that crazy state and then slowly trickle down to the other 48 (Hawaii is on its own always). I think it's mostly because Californians are crazy in a zany hyper way. Always coming up with an idea of what is supposed to be -which explains why we aren't happy- which also explains what we need to get rid of- oh my god aerosol cans are bad for the environment and my hair just won't stay with that stupid pumpie thing - i reach a state of enlightenment when i go to that spin class let's make an appt for forever with steve- do i seem fake?

In California is a chain of restaurants called "The Good Earth". From browsing the web I see it's become a little passe', which is typical for California's 2 year attention span. When I remember it, I specifically remember the location in Westwood (near UCLA, so we could bop over there after visiting the Doctor) and in Palo Alto (same idea, when visiting Doctors at Stanford).

Good Earth was a chain hippie restaurant with vegan/vegetarian food that was actually pretty good. If I had a chef making me their food every day I would totally go vegan. But that is besides the point. And my love for the decor incepted my passion for color...kind of antiquity mexican but closer to laid-back key west bahamian. Color makes us feel good. Without it, in those sparing drab modernist crap enviroscapes promoted by bad people, we are not passionate. We are zombies like Ed Norton's character in "Fight Club" contemplating the new item in the IKEA catalog.

Back to the Good Earth.

There was a distinct smell in there. Like spices only recently discovered in India or the tropics that we absolutely can't do without. It was intoxicating and calming and settled your anxious pathetic little worries. I remember my Dad, workaholic Type A, visibly chilling out and letting us just sit and marinate in a booth there. For over an hour. I've never known the man to appreciate a restaurant that way.

My point is this: I ran out of coffee, and I'm too lazy to go buy any. I actually just realized that I haven't left the house in 2 days. Whatever.

I have a box of Good Earth tea, which they sell at Ingles Publix Kroger whatever. It's just in the stinking tea aisle. Get the original blend, and smell the box. It's decaffeinated but I guess I don't care I'm pretending I'm on an ashram and am de-toxifying so it's okay I'm totally craving a cigarette and a triple espresso.

Oh, and if you're interested, read about Good Earth and the inception of Macintosh.
http://folklore.org/StoryView.py?project=Macintosh&story=Good_Earth.txt
and then you can truly understand the Good Earth's impact on pop california-hippie culture.

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Monday Mind Muddling with a Desperate Egoist

2007-01-29T19:31:00.000-04:00

I'm craving intimacy. Awareness. Someone who understands how I tick and wants to hold my hand. I'm not usually needy, but I know when I do need.

I'm supposed to focus on my five strengths when I'm unhappy or afraid. Taking one of these strengths, I should analyze how I have used it in the recent past to better my life.

Yesterday I went through this very unsettling state of self-loathing, brought about by a pivotal event of awareness. Reality. The state of affairs in my life and in others. I have a hard time understanding who I am as a culmination of the past ten years. My preference is to self-actualize my life in 1996. All events since then I recall in a negative light. This faulty self-actualization actually poses a lot of problems for me. I am stunned when I glimpse myself in the mirror - who is that person? In the early morning, before I wake my daughter, I watch her breathe deeply with that goldfishy open/shut mouth thing going on. I can't believe I'm a mother. A mother who doesn't particularly like children. In 1996 kids amazed me inspired me set me feeling alive.

So in trying to understand the relationships I've created - whether based in reality or not - I just came to an eye-opening conclusion. You see, my #2 strength, according to the 5 signature strengths test http://www.authentichappiness.sas.upenn.edu/ is:

Appreciation for Excellence and Beauty

And in this moment of clarity that sure does mean a lot to me.

You see, I was trying to figure out this relationship from the past. It was confused and nebulous and meant a lot while only meaning very little. Like a lot of relationships, I suppose. Sometimes when you are with someone you have these lucid glimpses of them...their "soul" I guess you'd call it. When you see this organic focused vision of a person's true identity, it usually lends itself to either absolutely hating that person or absolutely craving more of them. The latter is the kind of relationship I describe. Little words, not much depth or time spent, but enough quick little glimpses of soul to render me in a dumbfounded state. Unable to do anything else but hope to see more glimpses.

I think people make the mistake of calling these glimpses a "connection". Because they aren't. Not really. I'm sure if you take enough of these glimpses added together, and they are two-sided, then that means a connection. Like a cat staring in the mirror absolutely enamored of that other beautiful kitty staring back.

It has been my misfortune that I get these visions of people pretty regularly. Sometimes they are awful - a true testament of the ugliness that can reside within. In those cases I usually avoid that person or shut myself off somewhat.

When they are amazing visions I'm screwed. I'm usually so incredibly amazed at what I'm witnessing that I crave more immediately. I can hold out, knowing that accumulating more of these identifying experiences takes time. And people usually freak when you dig your heels in and demand time.

It's my discovery that I fall in love too easily and much for the wrong reasons. It seems that my #2 strength,

Appreciation for Excellence and Beauty

doesn't exactly make me a genius. I get a glimpse of someone's innate character strengths, abilities, or potential for the above. When this experience truly reveals someone's amazing talents or beautiful nature....I'm screwed. Enamored. Realize that my own talents are normal and meaningless in comparison. And somehow I've seen this person at their best, usually before a lot of other people have caught on, too. Mine. I can collect them like art, these individuals with their potential, and be a paparazzi-like eyewitness: there to see the entire creative process from beginning to end.

Digging even deeper into this weird semi-psychic aura-reading appreciation for unnatural talent, I realize that most of the people I have established deep bonds with fall under this in some way shape or form.

My Best Friend: Not only can she sing, and send shivers down my spine, but she can play piano, which I figured out a long time ago I'll never be able to do. But I don't think these human-crafted talents were what drew me to her. I saw this generous, warm person willing to hug me, kiss my forehead, and shower affection and adoration on me. It isn't often you meet someone like that who can give you that kind of love when you need it. Because at one time or another, we're all scared little puppies in the rain (or at an away-football game 10 miles from home).

My Man Z: There is only one other time in my life that I've met a man as sensitive as I am, wearing their heart on their sleeve. The other guy allowed this sensitivity to permeate so deep within he's effeminate, and is now self-actualizing being gay because he was always told he was. Z is different. The effeminate parts are hidden. In fact, quite often he comes off growly. Grizzled old man. But there is something there so touching and sweet and little-boy like...vulnerable. Willing to understand my ever-increasing list of character faults and vulnerabilities because he's fully aware of his own. The fact that Z can share that sensitivity with so many people - close friends and family - renders him excellent in my eyes. Most would be too afraid to show that tender fragile side that gets hurt quite easily. I was always intrigued what it would be like to have my sensitive empathic part combine with his equally sensitive empathic part. And now I know. We do maximize these traits to the fullest together, which could be considered a vulnerable liability on its own. Somehow I think others are inspired by it, though. The fact that we didn't run from finding our doppelganger counter.

And so on. The seemingly effortless scholar, who realized my intense fascination and made me his booty call for almost two years. The alterna-athlete, who at one time ranked among the world's best in BMX-style biking, wearing his baggy droopy shorts and all. The artist, who could sing like James Brown while sketching an album cover of Seal in chalks and pencils while rolling a fancy, "french-style" joint.

You see, maybe there is some worth to this whole

Appreciation for Excellence and Beauty

crap. I discover these unique people, almost like a talent scout. I just have to learn how to say no. How to tell when I'm being abused. How to take a step back when I do what I do: vacillate and hedge and refuse to make decisions.

I'll put together another scrapbook soon, a la Janice Dickenson's Modeling Agency cover shot book. And I'll let you know about the new members, and their incredibly unique talents.

Just wish me luck. I don't want to be hurt so easily because I'm weak.

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Cliff Williams & The Georgia Innocence Project

2007-01-28T19:55:00.000-04:00

Ok, so I'm a little squeamish about releasing details of my life that are incredibly private - safe in a little lockbox in the pit of my mind. But some of you may know how meaningful this was to me - finding this article on the front page (Metro section) of the Atlanta-Journal Constitution's Sunday edition. In fact, an entire cup (16 oz., mind you) of Starbuck's Sumatra was forever lost on the front of my shirt, thoroughly soaking through my bra and burning my breasts.

http://law.gsu.edu/news/view.php?id=215

In A.A. we call this a "God-Shot". I've been doing a lot of talking lately about the amends I have to make, and how I'm constantly looking for ways to contact those deserving of those amends.

God will let us see when we are ready. We will have answers when we deserve to have them.

And somehow, when our lives are rolly-polly confusing twisty rollercoasters already, God decides to throw a couple more switchbacks into the ride.

I'm feeling really insecure and lost about who I am. I'm optimistic when I see others performing at their peak - the talent we always saw and foresaw for the future.

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Life is difficult when you are unemployed

2007-01-23T22:49:00.000-04:00

Mostly because considering employment stinks of corporate sell-outedness.
Why can't I get paid to do what i want, namely:

- read a couple of novels a day. Right now I'm reading David McCullough's 1776, Isabel Allende's Zorro, and some cheesy book called "Sweet Cherry Hollow".
- Cook like a Top Chef. My newest is "Chili Apple Tarts with Ginger Cream Frost". And damn if it isn't amazingly good.
- Practice for Project Runway, because my Mother, an accomplished seamstress herself, claims that my construction skills rival John Galliano's. I just need to learn how to use the sewing machine properly, because my hand-stitching skills rock. I don't know anyone in the normal Snewo planet who can hand-ruche.
- Go all OCD and collage frames for artwork I've always meant to hang. My current project is all the cool CD inserts I've saved over the years, which I mean to hang in some humongous 8x10 mural.
- Have wicked fun manic episodes, where I begin 16 projects all at once leaving the messiest house known to man
- Spend the next 4 days cleaning up my messy house from my manic creative state.
- Have sex with my man, which is proving to be a lot of fun. Who knew you could still like sex after being with someone for 4 years and 5 months? What the hell? Is this some freaky long honeymoon period or what?
- Walk 3 hours per day, and jump up and down when I lose 3 lbs. per week (despite my absolutely crappy Top Chef eating habits).
- Emboss wedding invitations
- Sew patchwork quilts
- Organize my monstrous wardrobe, which I've discovered encompasses something like 6 CLOSETS FULL. I need to donate to the poor nude children in Africa.

And so on and so forth. I used to be so determined to run my own little cocaine cartel so I could fund my creative endeavors, a la Andy Warhol or Jackson Pollack. I need to set up a freaking paypal account for you people to support me.

Because I'm freakingly broke. Like $380 in my checking account (they closed the savings since it was so empty), and a credit score that has dropped 100 POINTS due to my past due accounts. Like the outrageous $1100 in prescriptions I've spent in the past 6 months.

Trust me, the manic states are well worth it. I just need help paying for the mood stabilizers. Which are supposedly working.

Excuse me while I go find another valium. I located about 5 yesterday while cleaning out one of my 14 purses I had stuffed in a plastic bag in the basement.

Haha.

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More thoughts on open-door honesty

2007-01-17T19:22:00.000-04:00

Be who you are and say what you feel,
because those who mind don't matter
and those who matter don't mind.
Dr. Suess

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Open Door Honesty - Especially When Stupid People Act Stupid

2007-01-16T11:34:00.000-04:00

No, I don't know what happened to the f&cking formatting on this thing.
If it continues to piss me off, I'll just avoid posting for awhile.
Beware.

How do you feel when someone punctures your balloon with a pin?
You know the kind of sting I'm talking about...you're riding
high on the clouds, in a great state of mind. Someone makes a
comment that just shatters you. Brings you back to earth with a
thud.

This didn't happen to me. A friend brought it up yesterday, and
wanted to know what to do about it. Upon receiving advice from
several different people, polar opposite opinions began to surface.
Tempers flared a bit, and I just wanted to know what others felt.

Here is my take:

When my balloon is popped, I am usually pretty stunned. In the past
I have stuck this hurt deep inside myself and obsessed about it from
then on in an obsessive-compulsive fashion. If that balloon-poking
comment made me aware of a character defect previously unknown, I
fell even further into this solitary quiet place where nothing comes
out. And then I usually cry.

HOWEVER. I've discovered the most powerful arguments/responses are
usually formulated after the fact. - WHAT SHOULD I HAVE SAID? -
And that is pure rubbish.

I'm trying to make an active pursuit of thinking faster on my feet, and
letting people know their opinions suck in a more-quick-like fashion. No
need to create long-festering resentments, no?

Even better is when you give it no less than an hour, and come up with
a constructively critical means of confronting the balloon-poker. No
need to expel a barrage of drunken-sailor talk (which I've been known to
do). No need to attack other people's character. Just logically explain
in a quiet like way why their statement was horseshit.

It's been my experience that people are usually afraid of me, and it has
more to do with the things I don't say than what I do. It's not like my
body language or facial expressions indicate any anger, or even that look
of an absolute psycho who is fixing to chop you up in little pieces.

I would hazard to guess it's just an aura thing. People can tell there is a
lot going on in that head of mine and some of it isn't peachy.

My point is that responding to someone in a lucid manner, and logically
explaining your argument is a true testament of composure. And that usually
freaks emotionally unstable people out. If anything, they will respond to your
criticism and open up a dialogue about what is going on. If I had said something
or done something in the past that was worth critique, let's hear it. Tell
me, baby. Let me know and we'll work it out. Don't act like a petulant child
who had their feelings hurt. I wanna get through this with you.

THE OTHER OPINION:

The other person felt that when their balloon is popped, the best way to
handle it is to not say anything at all. Forgive that person. Pray for them.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGG
GGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

That's all I think I have about that. I understand that my
philosophy of open door honesty doesn't exactly follow my
spiritual leanings of composed, solitary enlightenment.
But in some cases, screw that.

The simple fact is that there are a handful of people
I keep on retainer right now. And I actually spend very little time
communicating with any of them, since I've been trying to
fix my mental instabilities.

But my reasons for keeping my social position simple are good ones.
I have a lot I'm not comfortable with, and I still hazard on the
side of caution. I don't really make small talk well. And I'm not
particularly interested in items of little importance to me that
generally arise in normal conversation. I also don't feel the need
to defend my opinions, and I've discovered that most of the opinions
I do have run quite contrarian to everyone else's.
THEY DON'T REALLY LIKE WHAT I THINK AND OFTEN FEEL THE NEED TO FIX IT.
I'm not interested in being fixed.
So I don't bother to open up a debate.

I don't talk on the phone a lot because the pauses and silences
seem that much more pronounced on the dead air over the telephone line.
It's way easier and more comfortable when the silence is face to face.

Anyway, I'm getting to a really comfortable place where my
balloon isn't really popped. Granted, I do have a shitty way of
cutting people out of Snewo-ness with a sharp paring knife. And
I've received a lot of flack for my disappearing act.

But it sure does protect one. If you constantly hurt me,
or create a more conflict-filled mood, you're outta here.
If I genuinely need you - I hope I do a good job
of letting you know. I'm not trying to be a total bitch
here but I am an elitist. If you are necessary and wanted
I will talk.

So my balloon gets popped very rarely now, and I think that's
pretty great. Having insecure, emotionally vapid friends
and relatives sucks balls. Cut em off and move on, so I say.

Let me know if I'm an utter idiot. I'd be thrilled to
discuss it further. And I won't argue. I do a pretty good
job of listening and considering other opinions, no matter
how far out they are.

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How To Print and Send PS Form 3575 "Change of Address Order" FOR FREE

2007-01-15T12:20:00.000-04:00

Because I'm tired of processing fees. If you know me, you know I hate Georgia Power, Bellsouth, and various other companies because they have or do attempt to screw me at all times with their "processing fees". I'm not paying any goshdarned fees again, except for my auto insurance because they rock.

Anyway, here is the link to get you a free change of address form, which you have to either stick in your mailbox for the postal carrier or you need to mail. Either way, you save at least $0.61 cents because you didn't pay the stupid $1.00 processing fee to do it over the phone or via internet.

https://hdusps.esecurecare.net/cgi-bin/hdusps.cfg/php/enduser/std_adp.php?p_faqid=6578&p_created=1106267674&p_sid=gZX-zLri&p_accessibility=0&p_lva=&p_sp=cF9zcmNoPSZwX3NvcnRfYnk9JnBfZ3JpZHNvcnQ9JnBfcm93X2NudD00NSZwX3Byb2RzPTQ5LDAmcF9jYXRzPSZwX3B2PTEuNDkmcF9jdj0mcF9zZWFyY2hfdHlwZT1hbnN3ZXJzLnNlYXJjaF9ubCZwX3BhZ2U9MQ**&p_li=&p_topview=1

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Ambien and Behavior Modification Promote Weird Dreams

2007-01-03T08:26:00.000-04:00

So here I am, sitting here with my first cup of coffee at 7:26 AM. I'm in the usual spot - Z's sweet computer with his way yucky uncomfortable blue fake-suede wingback. I just rolled out of bed a little while ago after tossing and turning since 5:45, after waking up from an awful dream.

I can't really figure out what is going on in my subconscious. I know this is kind of a weird period right now - Jobless and fixing to be completely $$less; Just quit smoking but on the patch which I don't really understand how that is like quitting - I just have more time to ponder how I could be outside smoking; Going to a job interview and contemplating giving up my new-found sense of family values to again go work a gazillion miles from home and never see my kid or Z.

Whatever. Oh, and I took an ambien last night. I'm not sure what the deelio is there, but lately if I take one I am staggering like a drunk after about 45 minutes. Nice, because it knocks me out. However, this stinking Henry VIII tome I've been reading to sleep sure hurts in the morning when I find it on top of my nose.

So here is our dream for the third day of 2007:

I walk into my kitchen and start freaking out. All over the countertops lie paper bags from several fast food restaurants - Krystal, McDonald's, Burger King. Inside they are jammed packed full of cheeseburgers and french fries. They are uneaten but the paper surrounding the burgers is cold, and you can tell they've been sitting there a couple of hours. They don't quite have that greasy stale smell yet, but you know it's coming. The fries look shrunken and hard.

Surrounding the paper bags are 4 or 5 used ketchup packets, twisted and mishappen in that weird way old-time aluminum packets get. Little dribbles of hardened ketchup line the surface of the packet opening. There isn't any ketchup on my countertop, thank god, but the sad shape of those nasty little used sauce packets is giving me a hernia.

I start yelling as I try to wrap up the food and put it in the fridge. I'm not sure why - neither Z or I will eat leftovers from restaurants. But it's the principle. There are at least 15 burgers here and some starving kid in Africa would die for one, I know it.

The microwave is looming. I just know it's dirty because I did something bad to it the other night when I was making spanakopita. Let's just say that butter explodes. So in my deep-seeded need for cleanliness I'm prepared to attack it with my greased lightning bottle and a thing of Parson's ammonia, if necessary. I don't care if Z is allergic to the stuff. Damn it...this is a crisis. I open the super-duper microwave door (this thing is big enough to stick a 20 lb. turkey inside) and discover a nasty old uneaten large sausage pizza. The surface of "Dead Pizza", as we like to call it around here, resembles a flattened pancake of lipids after it's pulled out of your ass through a liposuction tube. The little sausage pieces look like itty bitty puppy poodle droppings hidden under the layer of cream colored fat. I grab the pizza by the hard, thin rim of crust and throw it onto the floor face-down. More screaming ensues.

I run into the office to yell at Z while he's on the computer playing that stupid game. Inside, I discover a whole new set of furniture lining the walls - a few tall bookcases and two 11 ft. stacks of drawers, boxed haphazardly up to the ceiling. I start yelling at Z about the food and the mess and then the office and he stares at me blankly. I yell some more, and he tells me to calm down there isn't anything wrong or different about our living space.

Running back into the kitchen, I want to prove to him that my own eyes see a very different story how dare he challenge my perception, damn it. I notice that there are now burger crust crumbs and lettuce slivers and McDonald's special Big Mac sauce on my countertops. I just cleaned those f&ckers yesterday. I also see a bag containing an assortment of other odd items, like Scope, Gillette razor blades, and an Amy Lee CD. I grab the CD and run back into the office. Chucking the CD on the bed, I start yelling and moaning about how I can't believe he just bought a CD because I gifted him new CDs for Xmas and I know he hasn't listened to them all yet. I start hearing the sound of Amy Lee's singing and I know my face is turning purple and blotchy I'm so angry.

Awake.

-----
So tell me I'm just going through some cigarrette behavior modification issues. Or that I'm under stress. I made Z come hold me when I woke up, and I described the dream to him. He told me he felt like I'm angry with him about something. So I admitted the trash can issue I had in the dream the prior night (he changed the bag when it wasn't full).

I know that all of the little subthemes of this dream represent things I absolutely hate. I won't eat fast food when it isn't hot, and the sight of fast food trash makes me vomit a little in my mouth. Something about greasy food makes me think about the unclean greasy people who must have prepared it and eaten it.

Having a dirty kitchen drives me apeshit. I know I'm the only one who cleans it, and I don't do a very good job, but I can't stand to see anything on the counters. That's my prep space, dammit, and it better be ready for chopping food. Which I'm thinking about doing right now since I have this authentic tofu waiting in the fridge.

The items in the bag on the counter are all things I can't stand either. I grew up on listerine - the yellow kind. My great-grandmother annually gifted my Dad with a bottle wrapped in tissue paper with those ugly ribbon strings on each end. As a result, this was the only mouthwash I was exposed to. Besides, I have this deep belief that mouthwash is for people who don't properly brush or clean their mouths. Eww.

Anyway, Z swears by Scope which is outrageously expensive and smells bad. He won't use the generic kind he swears it's different. I'm not sure if he's aware of the true mechanics of generics - THEY ARE THE EXACT F&CKING SAME THING THEY JUST DON'T HAVE A NAME BRAND ON THEM. I'm not kidding. I saw it on Reading Rainbow when I was little.

Gillette razor blades. I'm not sure if their animal testing policies are the same, but they were the biggest offender for a long time. If you know me, I'm one of these subversive tree-huggers who refuses to purchase products that piss me off. Animal tested cosmetics are one of them - that's just vain and stupid. Besides, I'm not sure if you caught the Bloom County segment where the penguin finds his mother in a Mary Kay facility (?) They're shaving the little bunnies' butt hair off with razors, and applying some kind of Sea Breeze like astringent to see if it burns.

So there you have it. Welcome to some fun-loving Wednesday insanity. Welcome to your regularly scheduled programming.

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Eh. Social diplomacy needed here.

2007-01-02T10:18:00.000-04:00

I am totally enamored of Craigslist. I enjoy the natural(?)ness of it - it just doesn't seem manufactured like everything else on the web.

But I have a rant and a concern.

Why do you people post nekkid photos of yourself online? Is there something wrong with you? And men - it's usually you. Why? Just why?

Forgive me - I'm a bit photoshy. And no, it's not a current self loathing that has made me that way - I hated photos of myself when I was a supermodel. I just didn't like or know the person in that picture. It's so....flat. Lack of feeling/thinking going on in a photo. Sorry, must be the Cherokee/Sioux/Seminole speaking.

Okay, and here is my other concern. What do you do when you find an old boyfriend who posted a photo of himself online? I'm not interested or anything...it it kosher to send an email saying "Oh hey, I saw you online and was just wondering how you were doing?" or "I just knew it was you based on your tatoo...and I was remarkably surprised how I recognized your body since you're really just one of several (ok, many). But hey, I'm not interested in your nekkidness or anything I just have thought about you and wondered if you were dead?".

How about "Hey I think you and I were in compromising position(s) for 9 mo. or so and I just knew that was you when I was surfing craigslist. Not that you were showing your private parts or anything. I'm in a nice thing right now and not looking for outside interference. But while I'm at it, why do you want to hook up with someone when your wife is out of town that is so incredibly gross and ill-mannered. Not that I'm surprised. And why are you seeking a black female, saying you prefer it? I don't remember that. Did something happen? Black women are pretty independent...I'm not sure they would put up with you very well. Just a comment. And that wallpaper...that is truly hideous. Aaargh. Did one of your girlfriends decide to try and play a joke on you so they posted yucky nekkid pics of you online and are going to assault you with some random encounter? So let me know how you are doing."

Is that an invitation? Especially considering I was looking at his nekkid pic? I'm just interested in how he is. Not in his goofy self-portrait in a mirror.

Oh, and this is a guy who went through a stalker phase for a while...

Any proper protocol from my advisors would be appreciated. I'm not so socially adept at all the games - I don't know what is appropriate or not.

And for Ms. Python: I'll send you the link.

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My first dream for 2007

2007-01-02T09:19:00.000-04:00

I don't know about you people, but I only remember the dreams that happen right before I wake up. I'm not saying I don't dream all night long - I just think I'm more able to recall the last dreams of the morning because my consciousness is already arising out of sleep. I only have a layman's knowledge of REM cycles, so you sleep experts need to help me out.

Dream #1, 2007:

I arrive at the parent's McMansion to walk their horse of a dog. As I pull down the street, I see a familiar face working with the paving crew who is lining their driveway with these idiotic pavers. If you're going to pave the driveway, why do you people stop five feet from the street and call it a day? Looks stupid. Anyway, the new paver-crew-person was an old friend/coworker of mine, back when I worked in Calhoun (restaurant mgt). I hadn't seen him in forever, since he left his bitchy wife and kids for my assistant manager and her two toddlers. But I digress.

I didn't want to get him fired from his uber-nazi Paver Foreman Person, so I gave him a quick hug. Paver foreman person yelled at Asst. Paver Foreman Person, who, as usual, was kissing my ass, asking if I needed help (up the driveway?). I said goodbye to old coworker friend and went inside.

Because I had to pee. I go in my parent's super weird bathroom (nice, looks like white Pottery Barn, but has a big crystal chandelier that you wouldn't notice unless you looked up at the 20 ft. ceiling. Weird house, I'm telling you.) I look at their big pretty sink(s) and notice they've replaced them with one of those glazed shebangs. It's very pretty - it has a really deep-dark blue stripe running the sloped rim. However...it has butterflies. EGAD. Two enormous 1986 butterflies - one in each corner. Painted in pastel pinks, purples, and green. AAARGGH.

I'm reflecting on the stupidity of this new glazed sink when I notice an old glazed sink (perfectly fine and more my speed, with a nice auburn/terra cotta trim)sitting next to me. The sink is just sitting there, looking dusty. I ponder swiping it and installing it in my own bathroom at home.

And then POOF. I am home. I'm just waking up, and have to pee again. I go in my own bathroom and as I sit down, I notice that the trashbasket has a new bag in it. That's odd. Z must have changed it...but it wasn't full oh what the hell. OCD moment. Charky meets me in there. She's about 4, when her hair was bobbed and way cute. She asks me if she can wear her Pre-K graduation dress today - a red and white polka-dotted job sitting on the floor in a Kroger bag. I tell her yes, and then ask her if she's peeing because I'm beginning to see little rivulets hit my bathroom floor. She tells me she is. I ask her to go use her own bathroom. Like the sweet little kid she is, she first wants to fix the puddle on my floor, so she grabs my wool coat from the knob in the bathroom (?) and tries to mop up the puddle. I go nuts and yell out...she scampers away to her own bathroom.

Awake.

So here are the themes for analysis.

Life events circa 2003: Why am I dreaming about my daughter during this time (the time around my divorce)? My coworker was also around during this year. What's the story? I rarely think about this period because it was kind of awful in a lot of ways.

My daughter was still a "little girl"...she's not so much now. Seeing her that way was pretty bittersweet. Ouch. I wish I hadn't missed so much of that.

Trashcan OCD: I think I have that one...I'm tired of changing the trash. I understand that Z is kind of going through a hard time, but I absolutely detest cleaning house, and taking out the trash is a man's job. Sorry. It is. If I have to do your freaking laundry you have to dispose of my trash. And I'm actually a pretty good woman in the bathroom. My man is much messier in there than I am. Are there any men out there who actually completely wipe the rim of the sink of the stray shaved hairs that have fallen? Why do I have to look at these little red orange blond creatures when I'm brushing my teeth? Whatever.

Peeing: That's easy to figure out. Am I the only person who wishes they didn't wake up in the morning because they have to pee? What a pain in the ass. Back in the days of Methadone, I could sleep 14-16 hours...it was almost as if my bladder was frozen in space. If I remember correctly, it was a hard time in the morning trying to pee, too.

So there you go, people. Happy 2nd Day of 2007.

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I finally put my internet-searchum-skills to work

2006-12-23T20:18:00.000-04:00

Read about "Cha Cha": The Newest Search Engine, With A Twist

http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/86997/chachacom_the_newest_search_engine.html

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Insurance Companies Are A Present From Satan

2006-12-22T17:22:00.000-04:00

First, I think it is important to note that I was employed by an insurer for over three years. I know that they are from satan.

Second, it is also important to note that most of my ire comes from medical insurance companies. They are truly a gift from Satan. Right now my fuc&ing current insurance company, who I pay COBRA payments to ($600 per month)is denying me insulin pump supplies.

Because the assholes lost my "certification of prior coverage". And have now stuck me on "pre-existing condition probationary coverage".

And the fuc&ers use such nebulous terms because they drink the blood of Satan, and the only real word in their medical insurance terminology is "No". They just learn all these other creative metaphors so that it sounds legal.

Fuc*ers.

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An Xmas Puppy

2006-12-20T19:47:00.000-04:00

First of all: It was only in the past few years that someone told me that calling Christmas "Xmas" is demonic and devil-related. I don't know what the fu&k you're talking about. My recent statistics professor (one of those poor, really smart people who don't have a chin and wear glasses as thick as SUV tires) explained that the X in Greek stood for Christ. If you turn the X a little bit it looks like a cross, you see.

So if someone can please explain why "Xmas" is related to Satan, I'd really appreciate it.

Anyway, I'm obsessed with puppies. Z put this screensaver on his monitor - an itty bitty dachshund puppy with these sad, drippy eyes that need a kleenex. You just want to reach out with your OCD self and wipe away those eye-boogies.

I don't have much money right now - I've actually managed to drag out 3 months of household expenses into a good 6 month package - yay me. I've spent no more than $10 on Xmas presents for each person. Which has gone a long way, I want you to know. I bought my mom this kewpie crap on ebay, which she'll probably hide in some cardboard box because she has this monastic buddhist thing going on right now. I sewed clothes for Charky's puppy. I bought Dad this awesome book you need to check it out: "Sky Maul: Happy Crap You Can Buy From A Plane". It's based on that fracked up Sky Mall magazine you read on the airplane - you know, the one with all the MacGuyver crap. Here is the link because I've already got mine (http://www.amazon.com/SkyMaul-Happy-Crap-You-Plane/dp/0312357478/sr=8-1/qid=1166658866/ref=pd_bbs_1/105-0867295-4425202?ie=UTF8&s=books). And so on and so forth.

Z's been moaning about wanting this perfect little dog for more than a year. He describes it in great detail - it's almost like this dog is visiting his subconscious or something. It basically looks like a tiny miniature pinscher/rat terrier mix. But cuter.

So I thought I would check out animal shelters for puppies, since I'm now obsessed with this itty-bitty doxie on his monitor. I don't believe in purebreds, or buying animals from breeders. Just an opinion.

First, let me tell you that everyone wants a freaking puppy for xmas. Finding a puppy in an animal shelter is ridiculously hard.

Second, as a rabid almost-tree-hugging, yet fiscally conservative and hates the smell of pot-smoke pseudo hippie, it's my duty to give you two awesome links for animal shelters nationwide. You can stick in your query and they'll pull up matching animal shelter animals ( Like Dog/Terrier Mix/Male/Small/Puppy/30120).

- www.petfinder.com
- www.1-800-Save-A-Pet.com

I found a bunch of puppies that are way cute. I sent them to Z via email. He gets all commitment phobic on me, whining and bitching about how we don't need a dog, we aren't ready.

By the way, I have a total manic-depressive addictive theory on relationships and "being ready". This is for all you people out there waiting to get married until you're in your 40s. When you have money and are financially responsible and all that shit. YOU ARE NEVER READY BECAUSE LIFE IS MESSIER THAN THAT. If you're a halfway nice person you can get over the "not being ready" bit and stick it out for the long haul, unless your spouse lies / cheats/ steals/ commits a felony.

So I now have this freaking little puppy faces stuck in my head. I even dreamed about one last night. And I'm tired of spending $60 a week in gas driving back and forth to my parents house to walk their dog. I'm even contemplating dog-walking as a career path now, since I'm up to walking 2 hours a day and I like it. A la "In Her Shoes", one of the few chick books I liked.

Z changed his screensaver, by the way.

And now I'm puppy-less and a little ticked off. I feel it's his fault, and that I now need a dog more than he does. I'm ticked that he and I err on the side of caution now a days, whereas our family members and friends are embracing spontanaeity. Which is a lot of fun, by the way.

Remember, if you get your feelings hurt by my blog postings that is your fuc*ing problem.

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Being a nice person

2006-12-18T11:20:00.000-04:00

I'm on this solitary path right now. Not having a working phone first made me lonely. After a while, it seemed essential. You see, I'm in the midst of my third or fourth mid-life crisis. Yes, I know that I'm only 26, and it's a little too early. However, I sure did grow up awfully fast so I feel this is only a natural progression.

Discovering that you are nuts is a big stone to swallow. I dated a bipolar man 7 or 8 years ago, and I remember feeling at the time that this guy was loony and I'm surely not like that. I always thought I just suffered from hereditary, periodic episodes of depression. As I became a parent, and suffered from an awful marriage, I began to realize that my own highs really did exist.

You see, I am superwoman. Sometimes. My lovely Charleston-living friend used to call me She-Ra. And that really described me when I'm on a high. Operating at super-speeds makes me feel competent. Efficient. Smarter and higher functioning than most. And yes, people notice and comment upon it.

But they also comment upon my lows. My old pirate boss used to tell me he could tell when I didn't feel well. I didn't talk much, and would sit pretty quietly all day. Mostly trying to focus, even though my mind was contemplating darkness.

It wasn't until I was locked in the loony bin that I realized I've been self-medicating my entire life. Last night, after Z and I discussed hiding the morphine bottle from me, I explained that only when I'm on a deep low do I want to throw myself into drugs. Booze. Cocaine. Opium. Heroin. Morphine. Methadone. Whatever. I'm desperately craving a numbness here, you see. Numb from the anguish and the sadness that accompanies my lows. A kind of safe, warm bubble that will protect me from those creeping dark suicidal thoughts that make me want to throw myself off a bridge.

The shrink(s) have put me on a "mood stabilizer" - a pretty high dose. They're slowly taking me off traditional antidepressants, after we discussed how they make my highs and lows more severe.

For the first time, I feel like I'm beginning to function normally. I wake up and get dressed. I'm working out six days a week, and eating like a normal person. I still don't sleep without help, but I'm not oversleeping during a rough patch - the old 16 or 18 hour "naps". And I'm contemplating how to put my life together in a way that makes me happy and meets my desires for love, ambition, and friendship.

I do have a new phone, by the way. I haven't been able to put many phone numbers in it. Basically I need to have an operating phone all the time to check voicemails from recruiters. I just don't have time to retrace my steps, take my phone apart, stick my SIM chip in Z's phone, and write down all of my address book.

So if I haven't called, this should partly explain why.

A. I need to be alone in order to pull myself out of the mess I'm in.
B. I didn't have a working phone.
C. I probably don't have your number.

Now on the subject of hurting people's feelings:

One day the shrinko man and I discussed what thoughts race through my head when I'm depressed. I explained that in my mind, I'm re-enacting the worst experiences of my life. He asked for more detail, and I told him that my "scenes" were usually when I had hurt someone's feelings.

I do it a lot. I don't know if that is normal, but it's definitely one of my character flaws. There are usually several ways in which this occurs.

1. I open my mouth and discover that evil things come out. As a child my doctors thought I had Asberger's Syndrome ( a form of autism ) because I didn't understand what was appropriate to say and what wasn't. Inability to function socially on a normal level. I don't know if that is true, but I certainly do know that when I say something awful, I don't mean it to be perceived that way. My ex-boyfriend/best friend CF was really good at talking me through what I was feeling when I said creepy things. He usually pointed out that the thoughts behind those words were illogical and creepy on their own. So I would quit talking. I'm doing a little bit of that now.

2. As a selfish human being I hide a lot. I don't know how to ask for emotional support. I read something recently about how it is our responsibility as a friend to contact our friends when they are in a low spot. When we don't hear from them. Well I'm in a low spot but I'm only semi-interested in talking to others. Mostly because I don't want to talk about the low spot I'm in. Stupid, huh?

I'm actually a lot better about it. I've done a pretty shitty job of maintaining some friendships, because I disappear. Poof. Gone. Don't see her or hear from her for a couple of years.
------
Basically I hurt someone recently for all of the reasons above, and I'm terribly sorry. If I blog about you please don't be hurt by it. Most of the crap I write here isn't reality, it's just an explanation of the television-like facets of my life. I only describe people close to me who are like cartoon characters themselves. You are a truly unique individual if I felt the need to ruminate on your character.

Z doesn't read my blog anymore, he says it hurts his feelings. I constantly tell him that I don't mean to do so. He says he understands, that this is my vent. I agree somewhat, but I do think it's important to explain that this blog has only touched upon the most extreme events, people, or places. Much of this doesn't document the little boring stuff that makes up a life. The stupid details that nobody really wants to hear, because it's already pissing them off as their head rambles through it.

How you are irritated the toaster always burns the bread. How you hate cleaning the toilet. How you take the same route to work everyday so you don't have to pay attention to driving. How that first sip of liquor tastes like a spiritual experience and a coming home to Jesus. How the paper-towel refiller in the restroom makes the mistake of filling it too full, not understanding that it will waste paper towels.

I'm bored by these trivialities, and I try not to pay too much attention to them. I'm determined that I am not going to die thinking about the pork loin in my oven. Or the grout I didn't scrub.

Please don't be offended. I love all of my family, and I sure hope you'll put up with me. If I'm not very good at calling, understand that I'm either in a rut and don't want to talk or I don't have your phone number. If I don't send emails, understand that I'm either in a rut or I don't have your address.

I'm sorry for my faults. I hope you'll love me anyway.

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I am the walrus....

2006-12-15T01:01:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I find it a little vapid to quote song lyrics. However, I'm currently working on "My life: The Soundtrack". As a purely creative endeavour, it's perfectly acceptable to use really great, symbolic background music while my life unfolds.

And here is the song for today - The Beatles
"I am the Walrus"

I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together.
See how they run like pigs from a gun, see how they fly.
I'm crying.

Sitting on a cornflake, waiting for the van to come.
Corporation tee-shirt, stupid bloody Tuesday.
Man, you been a naughty boy, you let your face grow long.
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen.
I am the walrus, goo goo g'joob.

Mister City Policeman sitting
Pretty little policemen in a row.
See how they fly like Lucy in the Sky, see how they run.
I'm crying, I'm crying.
I'm crying, I'm crying.

Yellow matter custard, dripping from a dead dog's eye.
Crabalocker fishwife, pornographic priestess,
Boy, you been a naughty girl you let your knickers down.
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen.
I am the walrus, goo goo g'joob.

Sitting in an English garden waiting for the sun.
If the sun don't come, you get a tan
From standing in the English rain.
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen.
I am the walrus, goo goo g'joob g'goo goo g'joob.

Expert textpert choking smokers,
Don't you thing the joker laughs at you?
See how they smile like pigs in a sty,
See how they snied.
I'm crying.

Semolina pilchard, climbing up the Eiffel Tower.
Elementary penguin singing Hari Krishna.
Man, you should have seen them kicking Edgar Allan Poe.
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen.
I am the walrus, goo goo g'joob g'goo goo g'joob.
Goo goo g'joob g'goo goo g'joob g'goo.

--------------------------------------------------------
So now you've got an idea of the background soundtrack clip, let's discuss the scene.

Snewo is in the midst of a rather lovely psychological disturbance.
Wakes up grumpy, takes her happy pills immediately. Makes a yummy cup of hazelnut coffee and lands in the computer chair. Investigates pooches, because she really wants to get Z a puppy for Christmas. Several breaks taken in this puppy research as she is also baking heath bar cookies.

One minute, she's exhausted and naps. The next minute, she's off running for hours and chasing the 78 lb. black dog from hell. Snewo comes home, with Charky in tow. Snewo tired again. Bathes for the third time that day. Then, in another minute, Snewo makes a remarkably succinct/lucid grocery list and becomes determined to get really ambitious - take the California King Ralph Lauren denim comforter to the laundromat while she shops at the next-door dollar store.

20 minutes of Snewo screaming at Charky to get her shit together, lugging the phone, my grocery list, my blackberry, my ligher and cigarettes, and that freaking humongous denim comforter to the car.

Drive. Semi-moment of peace has hit, as we meander down Mission Road behind some idiot in a Chevelle driving 30 mph.

Get to the gas station (finally) and pay at the pump. Realize that my local cheapo gas station just charged me $2.21 a gallon - regular. OOOWWWWTTCHHH.

CLimb back in the car, proceed to look for my laundry money that Z left me - I had a twenty underneath my blackberry. Discover Charky took it, and proceed to scream at her in the gas station parking lot. She proceeds to kiss almighty MOMMA's ass thenceforth.

Drop $4 in the wash, push the comforter in, feeling like a weakling. Go next door to the dollar store, and buy my remarkably lucid list:

Light Bulbs *
Hanging Nails *
Febreze*
Christmas wrap
yucky dollar store candies for my gingerbread house *
Postcard sized frame*

Pay, leave to go make sure no one has messed with my comforter. Charky and I watch it, transfixed by the swirling blue stripes on the underside...practically hypnotized, here. Drooling and the whole bit. Felt dizzy for a good couple of minutes.

Throw the comforter into the "SUPER" dryer (it's about as big as my bathroom in there) pop an indecent amount of money in, and take charky to Subway with me. I'm craving a veggie sub hardcore. I tell Charky to pray that nobody takes my comforter.

Get subs, go back to laundromat, get comforter.

Get home, eat, feel worn out. Started feeling antsy so I folded 8 large baskets of clothes that I've been putting off. And put my pretty new hot-pink Isaac Mizrahi sheet on my bed. WHOOOPPPEEEE! You have no idea how sexy my little black mousie cat looks on those hot pink sheets. It's like Kitty porn.

Then begin wrapping presents because my gift closet is so full it won't close. Discover I have to insert my mother's present - an antique Kewpie postcard circa 1925- in the frame, but the postcard itself needs some kind of backing to make it centered. Started a 30 min. project mounting the postcard on a piece of cream-colored cardstock, and affixing the antique postcard to the cardstock using ribbons. Ribbons run in each corner, 4 altogether and WHALLAA. Kewpie postcard centered in frame, mounted on cream cardstock, with four very pretty sage green ribbons.

Wrap more presents, but kick myself because I don't have the wrapping I want. I've been to the cheesiest places known to man, and I can't find the goofiness my grannie goose always wrapped with. Alvin and the CHipmunks. The Muppets.

So I wrapped three presents with this one acceptable wrap I have - it's blue with snowmen all over it. I hate snowmen, by the way. I'm throwing a little black humor into my christmases, dammit.

The other side of the snowmen wrap says HO all over the place in blue. Different fonted HOs, Different sized Hos. Ain't working for me. Every time I see it I'm disturbed.

SO I found the red spray paint, and graffittied all over the damn HO paper. It's very avant garde, "RENT" style xmas decor. I love it.

I finally got sleepy and realized I needed to go clean up my messes. If I leave them Z will get all worried that I'm in a hypermanic phase and try to bang me to sleep. Am I the only girl out here who doesn't pass out after sex? Every time he tries that shit when I'm on a roll like this one, I end up staying up until 4 or 5 because I can't come down. Those feel-good hormones released in sex only make me want to go go go - you're happy, aren't you?

Thank god I didn't try to make the gingerbread house tonight.

Thank god I took 2 benadryl and 2 ambien. I'm finally a little tired.

I am the walrus oo coo chi cooo...........

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Drive yourself out of the funk - be grateful in your POS auto

2006-12-07T10:22:00.000-04:00

I generally get along well with men, because I understand that your car is an extension of your personality, and indicates a good bit about who you are.

Wow. That statement really illustrates how keyed in I am to the hologram ( Carlos Castaneda) or the Matrix (those damned Coen (?)brothers). Whatever.

So the car thing is just a metaphor for how I'm feeling right now. I drove past this couple this morning driving a baby-poop brown '80 Chevy something-or-another and I felt better. I drove one of those once - very temporarily - when my husband broke my car and my parents refused to sell me the Mercedes.

Yes, my auto today is a Ford, and I hate that. Yes, it's a gas guzzler, and I hate that too. I'm at mile # 218,736. I don't have a tape player, much less a CD player in it. One of the backseats is piled with my laptop bag, my purse, my sweatshirt, a bunch of notebooks, and anything Charky has hidden. It smells like smoke, and 3 of the seatbelts don't work.

But it's mine, and paid off. The insurance is ridiculously low (Thank you, John Oxendine!), and it gets me where I'm going at a higher level than little economy cars. The tires have better tread than Z's pimp car, so I don't worry so much about sliding on ice, or hydroplaning at 70 mph like I did in my accident (see blog archive, August 2005).

I took the 5 strengths test, part of my Positive-Psychology Practitioner's advice. And my 5th strength, to my surprise, was gratitude.

I certainly feel like an ungrateful bitch. My mother always told me that. And it seems that many of my actions in the past towards those I love indicated that I wasn't grateful to have them around.

But I do feel grateful quite a bit. I'll give some examples - more for my therapeudic benefit than yours - and I'll tell you where I am.

- I heard from a friend of mine who I must have blogged about a long time ago. I had been looking for him, I suppose. This myspace thing does suck, it makes real blogging look so serious. But everyone I've ever located seems to be there. Anyway, it was a nice surprise to hear from him, and he looks well. Good tidings.

- I'm a little crafty lately. I'm about at the point where I'm going to start selling this crap on ebay. I am really hesitant to start behaving like that horrible tea-pot collecting lady with 18 cats who has crocheted doilies all over her kitchen, but whatever. Hippie art, I call it. I'll post pictures when I convince Z to find my camera-battery cord.

- I finally figured out how to place a call on the f@ckberry, so I can call people again. Now just to add my phone book from the razr.

- Day 8 on the starvation diet, and I'm doing ok. Craving a Taco Bell bean burrito hardcore.

- Sold my soul to the devil yesterday and shopped at Walmart. I know, spank my hand. I rationalize that it's okay to shop at Walmart when you're poor and jobless. Anyway, my other reason for avoiding Walmart is that it's so un-chic. Oh, yeah, and they joined forces with the anti-contraceptive christians in cartersville, and NO LONGER SELL CONDOMS THERE. F%CKERS.

So I went to the new Walmart south of Pumpkinvine Creek, and gee whiz. That place is like the ritz. It's ALMOST as pretty as the new SuperTarget. What a pleasant experience....

I don't know what my point was here. Oh yeah. I was grateful to have such a pleasant Walmart experience.

- I'm utterly grateful that Caridee was picked as America's Next Top Model, because that Melrose bitch strikes a violent cord in me. I found it a bit perturbing that she is from San Francisco, and reminds me of every other snotty beatch I knew there.

- I'm grateful that avocados are on sale. Nothing can bring you out of a funk like a little avocado. They are so happy looking, aren't they?

So I'm okay and hanging in here. I'm making gingerbread, and planning clothes for Charky's puppy (her Xmas present). My kitty is on my lap, and actually acting sane today. I have a beautiful heirloom tomato - almost purple - that I'm fixing to cut up and dip in balsamic. My hazelnut coffee rocks, and I dug up some cinnamon incense from the xmas box. I have a bunch of twinkly lights from Z's momma, and I'm going to start stringing. Charky is in the Xmas parade tonight, and I'm prepping for that. Our xmas party, complete with all-night poker, is next week and I'm excited.

It's all good. Hope you all are equally okay.

By the way, back to the auto thing - Let me know what y'all think about the car cliches. Do old people really drive PT Cruisers? What does a Beemer convertible say about a man? Why do women Beemer drivers all wear sunglasses? Will a minivan ever be chic? Why do all men driving Jeeps seem gay? Are all female VW bug drivers gay?

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Egad

2006-12-04T16:39:00.000-04:00

I'm not going to comment on the news, because I really haven't read or seen any news in over a month.

I'm not going to comment on any websites, because I haven't surfed the web in over a month.

I'm at a personal low, so I'm going to talk about that. If you aren't in the mood to hear it, piss off.

I've been unemployed for almost 2 months now. My shrink wants me to go see him every week, so I've been doing that. I've been trying to skip school as much as possible, so I've been semi-doing that. I've been working on wedding invitations, so I've been to the craft store three times.

It's too cold to walk, so I drive to Charky's school every day to pick her up (3 blocks,mind you. What a petro consumer I am).

Z has been receiving checks from the Gwinnett County Probation Office - the uninsured driver who hit him 3 1/2 years ago is finally paying his restitution to the victims. Z is owed $75K (or $3 million from the civil suit), so we've been really grateful that the now 22 year old kid is paying his debt. So when Z receives checks in the mail, he goes with me to the bank to deposit them.

But other than that, I don't leave the house. I'm miserable 90% of the time... kind of a crying, blue mess. My phone hasn't worked properly in over a month so I don't really get to talk to anyone. I just got a new phone - a blackberry - but I can't figure out how to make it work.

I'm scared. I can't seem to keep my composure as a functional human being while at home. I'm really unsure how I'm supposed to do it as a working adult - the breadwinner of this household. I can't even envision a real job now...every time I read job postings, complete with all of the work responsibilities, I get overwhelmed. I can't imagine having to concentrate that long on anything, particularly things that don't interest me personally. Because that is what a job is, right?

So I'm kind of lost, and don't know what to do with myself. I went back on the liquid starvation diet a few days ago after my endocrinologist made me cry. I hoped that eating better would help me emotionally. I've been doing yoga every day, with the same hopes.

But I'm just not seeing any dang results. I catch myself staring at the christmas tree...kind of fading out, looking at the lights. For what seems like hours. I wonder if I'm insane.

Shrink man says I'm supposed to think myself logically out of my depression. Remember that it's just a mood - it won't last. Remember that these are just temporary life circumstances - they won't last either. Sure doesn't feel that way, but those constant mantras do help.

My mind is so unstill - that stupid monkey mind - that I can't meditate, either. I try to get to that quiet place where the only thing I see is fuzzy gray, and the only thing I hear is my calm breath. And then the thoughts start smoldering on the surface...creeping into my quiet. What a failure I feel like. How I hastily took a chance, and because I was so desperate to get out of my old job, I accepted one that I knew wasn't right. How my money will run out soon, and other than waiting tables or working in a restaurant, I don't know what to do. How my daughter feels my angst, and is behaving accordingly...lying all the time. How unhappy my ex-husband makes me feel...he hasn't held a real job in nearly 3 years, and I haven't received child support in almost 18 months.

Sorry to vent. I have a blog reader who apparently checks up on me... I once posted to her blog, trying to tell her I worried about the desperate tone of her own blog postings. I feel guilty falling into such a depressed hole - it almost felt like she expected me to be riding on higher sails, since I pulled such a condescending tone with her. I don't want to not meet expectations. I'm the bubbly, bouncing one, right?

Where am I? Where am I going?

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"Anywhere But Here" Turns 2!!!

2006-11-29T00:33:00.000-04:00

Folks, it's been a long two years, hasn't it? What happened to us?

- Upon having meaningless sex with a sexy latin lover in camos, I complimented Steven Tyler on his ass.. http://anywherebut.blogspot.com/2004_11_01_anywherebut_archive.html"

- I got kicked out of a mexican place after drinking too much tequila and yelling at my mother and sister... http://anywherebut.blogspot.com/2004_12_01_anywherebut_archive.html

- Got obsessed with Great White Shark diving...http://anywherebut.blogspot.com/2005_01_01_anywherebut_archive.html

- Finally understood why all men love Bruce Campbell movies... http://anywherebut.blogspot.com/2005_02_01_anywherebut_archive.html

- Discovered "Mr. Medical Researcher" man who thoroughly pissed me off for an entire month, even whilst he was professing his love for me...http://anywherebut.blogspot.com/2005_03_01_anywherebut_archive.html

- Wrote a paper about how pulling decongestants off the shelves is really a government conspiracy - meth isn't made from your stupid little sudafed box...http://anywherebut.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_anywherebut_archive.html

- Ruminated on the difficulties of being friends with Naa "a six foot, six inch tall flamboyant gay man from South GA, who is on the new age path of wiccanism pseudo asian studies"...http://anywherebut.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_anywherebut_archive.htm

- Declared war on Pale Blue Dot and discussed why nerds make better lovers...http://anywherebut.blogspot.com/2005_06_01_anywherebut_archive.html

- Got all freaky and egocentric and wrote "100 Things About Me"...http://anywherebut.blogspot.com/2005_07_01_anywherebut_archive.html

- Had all these bloggers contact me, from both sides, representing or hating Stephanie Klein, after I wrote why I hate her. Bored people without a homeless person to feed, I suppose...http://anywherebut.blogspot.com/2005_08_01_anywherebut_archive.html

- Published California's Divorce Letter to the U.S...http://anywherebut.blogspot.com/2005_09_01_anywherebut_archive.html

- Tried to encourage readers to join the "Christopher Walken for President" movement...http://anywherebut.blogspot.com/2005_10_01_anywherebut_archive.html

- Located the best "Best Jerry Maguire Mission Statement for Bloggers" ...http://anywherebut.blogspot.com/2005_11_01_anywherebut_archive.html

- Discovered Seligman's Positive Psychology movement, and thought I found my calling...http://anywherebut.blogspot.com/2005_12_01_anywherebut_archive.html

- Discovered that conferences are the new white-collar hookup spot...http://anywherebut.blogspot.com/2006_01_01_anywherebut_archive.html

- Tried to pimp myself out, to no avail, in "TRICK ME OUT, BITCHES! I CAN FIND SHIT!"...http://anywherebut.blogspot.com/2006_02_01_anywherebut_archive.html

- More evidence discovered that substantiates why I hate Los Angeles...http://anywherebut.blogspot.com/2006_03_01_anywherebut_archive.html

- Decided that the CRITTERSVILLE WAL-MART IS CONSPIRING WITH THE CHRISTIAN COALITION...http://anywherebut.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_anywherebut_archive.html

- Found "60 sites in 60 minutes", the "Abortion isn't Murder Flowchart" and other useless fun on the web...http://anywherebut.blogspot.com/2006_05_01_anywherebut_archive.html

- In honor of Atlanta's Gay Pride 2006, I gave you:

"SEX IN CHRIST! SEXUALITY ACCORDING TO THE WORD OF GOD ...http://anywherebut.blogspot.com/2006_06_01_anywherebut_archive.html

- Got locked up in the loony bin and declared a bipolar alcoholic...http://anywherebut.blogspot.com/2006_07_01_anywherebut_archive.html"

AND THERE IS PLENTY MORE.
It sure has been fun, y'all. Here's to another crazy/fun 2 years. I'm looking forward to it.

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Dysfunctional Thanksgiving Dinners - A Top Ten List

2006-11-22T11:08:00.001-04:00

Very apropos. The New York Times has an article today titled "Pass a Drumstick, and an Olive Branch", describing Thanksgiving Dinner horror stories. Face it - we avoid our family all year long, and then expect us to get together and be reasonable on a super charged family holiday. Recipe for disaster, I say.

So, in keeping with the theme "Dysfunctional Thanksgiving Dinners" I present this list.

SNEWO's TOP TEN DYSFUNCTIONAL THANKSGIVING DINNERS - A CLASSIC FAMILY COMEDY

10. In 2006, Snewo's family doesn't have the traditional Thanksgiving locale - her parent's house is still under construction. In keeping with her parent's snobby affectations, the family refuses to come to her house for dinner.

9. In 1988, Snewo's mother prepares food for a large AA club in upper Los Angeles. She spends 6 hours cooking over 75 lbs of mashed potatoes, serves the potatoes to the bikers (with a Martha Stewart smile) then hides in her bedroom for the rest of Thanksgiving Day.

8. In 1990, Snewo's family has Thanksgiving Dinner with Granny Goose. She prepares her famous seven-layer-bean-dip, overcooked turkey, and "dressing". Then proceeds to "sneak a peep" of vodka out of the cabinet under the kitchen sink. Drunken Granny ensures an exciting dinner, with plenty of foul language and bitching, whilst chainsmoking.

7. In 2004, Snewo, Older Dysfunctional Middle-Child Sister, and Mother proceed to get drunk prior to dinner. Whilst hiding the alcohol from Dad, and his AA member friends who have come to a "sober Thanksgiving dinner". Hilarity ensues.

6. Adding further to the antics of 2004, two guests have a heated discussion about the recent George Bush win. Ultra-liberal alcoholic eccentric in $4 thrift-store suit argues vehemently with conservative, devil's advocate playing Romanian/South Philly tough-guy turned hardwood floor installer. Thrift Store suit-wearing alcoholic disappears in a huff during dessert, and sqeeals the tires of his '82 Toyota down the hill of the silent suburbian subdivision. Drunken laughter from kitchen begins.

5. 1991 - Snewo's family in full-throttle of family dysfunction. Alcoholic, workaholic father in counseling with mother after cheating on her in a drunken haze. Rebellious middle-child sister at dinner after attempting suicide 2 weeks before. Brother recently signed up for the Navy to get himself out of this freaky family. Smallest Snewo child in midst of one of many childhood depressions. Family refuses to speak during dinner, except to comment on the turkey. Snewo begins firing spoonfuls of mashed potatoes at Big Brother, who grabs her, turns her upside down, and runs around the house with her feet in hand, swinging Snewo around. Snewo throws up Thanksgiving dinner.

4. 2000 - One of Charky's first Thanksgiving. Has already learned the word "NO". Refuses to eat anything except for 8 deviled eggs, which she neatly circles on her dinner plate. Eats every single one, then proceeds to run around the hardwood-floored house at top speed, yelling "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA".

3. 2001- One of the last Thanksgiving Dinners with Granny Goose. Snewo's then-husband, C, super-redneck man, proceeds to spend 5 minutes at the crystal/candlelit dinner table describing his love for booty. Granny tries to interrupt, and Husband asks, "You like booty, don't you Grandma?". Granny pauses. "Everyone likes booty, don't they?" Table erupts, people choking with laughter.

2. 2003 - Snewo, best friend, and current boyfriend, all strung-out on a three month long meth binge, attend Thanksgiving lunch at Snewo's best-friend's house, with Best Friend's little sister and boyfriend. Little Sister's boyfriend and Snewo's boyfriend were friends of 15 years, but are no longer speaking due to a meth-related argument. Sit silently, staring at eachother, across the dinner table. Meth-addled boyfriend on verge of violence every minute. Snewo and other meth addled attendants try hard to eat a real Southern Thanksgiving, where every food is mushed to a puree and baked in a casserole pan. Best friend's mother concerned because Snewo keeps pushing food around the plate and doesn't eat. Lots of cigarette breaks and meth-chatter keep the dinner nice and anxiety-filled.

1. 2003 - Snewo, best friend, and current boyfriend are also expected at Snewo's parents for 6 PM dinner. Best friend and current boyfriend are too meth-high to attend, and also sick from what they did eat at Thanksgiving lunch. Snewo, after snorting a few more lines, goes to dinner where mother is pissed off because she can't eat. Still. Snewo proceeds to get harangued for the next few years, and is no longer allowed to attend other people's Thanksgiving dinners, by order of the Mother.

That's it, people. I hope to add to the list soon. Have a great Thanksgiving, and remember - it's just dinner.

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Dysfunctional Thanksgiving Dinners - A Top Ten List

2006-11-22T11:08:00.000-04:00

What I'm Grateful For on a Sunday Evening

2006-11-20T01:04:00.000-04:00

Part of my new project - saying aloud what I am grateful for so that I'm not always concentrating on the shit.

1. I'm cooking again, and it makes me really happy. I'm grateful for having the energy, curiousity, and creativity to want to play in the kitchen. I'm doing the 21 lb. bird this year...and making sweet potato casserole...and lemon pecan biscotti...and my christmas cookie baking extravaganza begins on Black Friday.

2. My daughter and I are having a pretty good time together. I'm grateful for having the patience to be less critical with her, to take time to listen. Today we talked about metaphors...she liked saying that Granpa's new dog is like an elephant.

3. I finished most of my final assignments for this stinking statistics class. I've had a really bad attitude about it, and I'm grateful for having the interest, the discipline, the attention span to actually try and pull this thing together.

4. My sweet little mouse kitty has turned into a super lovie lately. I'm grateful I had patience with him, even when he was biting and scratching and hissing at me.

5. I took a 5 character strengths test, and despite my surprise at the results, I was temperate enough to leave it alone for a day before I went back and looked at it further. Today it doesn't seem so surprising, because I had the temperance and discipline to give it a day to sink in.

6. Z and I are having great sex again. I'm grateful for having my sex drive back. Finally.

7. I've been pretty crafty lately...and have constructed two different xmas ornaments. I'm grateful for creativity...and my inability to be bored.

8. I keep sending my resume, hoping someone will finally bite. The fish are sleeping, I guess. Anyway, I'm grateful for my optimism/temperance - it's bound to happen sooner or later. I'm grateful I know that it isn't in my hands.

9. I love my new furry legwarmers. I'm grateful I had an extra dollar to spend.

10. I put together my best friend's birthday presents, and am going to mail them this week. I'm grateful my memory for important dates is finally returning.

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The Authentic Happiness "VIA Signature Strengths Test"

2006-11-18T18:50:00.000-04:00

On the advice of the shrink, I took the Authentic Happiness 'Via Signature Strengths" test, available at www.authentichappiness.com. Here is what they came up with....and I think I really needed to know. When you are unhappy, it's hard to come up with the positives...

Snewo's Top Five Strengths

Your Top Strength
Curiosity and interest in the world
You are curious about everything. You are always asking questions, and you find all subjects and topics fascinating. You like exploration and discovery.

Your Second Strength
Appreciation of beauty and excellence
You notice and appreciate beauty, excellence, and/or skilled performance in all domains of life, from nature to art to mathematics to science to everyday experience.

Your Third Strength
Bravery and valor
You are a courageous person who does not shrink from threat, challenge, difficulty, or pain. You speak up for what is right even if there is opposition. You act on your convictions.

Your Fourth Strength
Fairness, equity, and justice
Treating all people fairly is one of your abiding principles. You do not let your personal feelings bias your decisions about other people. You give everyone a chance.

Your Fifth Strength
Gratitude
You are aware of the good things that happen to you, and you never take them for granted. Your friends and family members know that you are a grateful person because you always take the time to express your thanks.

And the Other Strengths, in order:

Strength#6
Humor and playfulness
You like to laugh and tease. Bringing smiles to other people is important to you. You try to see the light side of all situations.

Strength#7
Creativity, ingenuity, and originality
Thinking of new ways to do things is a crucial part of who you are. You are never content with doing something the conventional way if a better way is possible.

Strength#8
Judgment, critical thinking, and open-mindedness
Thinking things through and examining them from all sides are important aspects of who you are. You do not jump to conclusions, and you rely only on solid evidence to make your decisions. You are able to change your mind.

Strength#9
Kindness and generosity
You are kind and generous to others, and you are never too busy to do a favor. You enjoy doing good deeds for others, even if you do not know them well.

Strength#10
Leadership
You excel at the tasks of leadership: encouraging a group to get things done and preserving harmony within the group by making everyone feel included. You do a good job organizing activities and seeing that they happen.

Strength#11
Love of learning
You love learning new things, whether in a class or on your own. You have always loved school, reading, and museums-anywhere and everywhere there is an opportunity to learn.

Strength#12
Forgiveness and mercy
You forgive those who have done you wrong. You always give people a second chance. Your guiding principle is mercy and not revenge.

Strength#13
Honesty, authenticity, and genuineness
You are an honest person, not only by speaking the truth but by living your life in a genuine and authentic way. You are down to earth and without pretense; you are a "real" person.

Strength#14
Perspective (wisdom)
Although you may not think of yourself as wise, your friends hold this view of you. They value your perspective on matters and turn to you for advice. You have a way of looking at the world that makes sense to others and to yourself.

Strength#15
Social intelligence
You are aware of the motives and feelings of other people. You know what to do to fit in to different social situations, and you know what to do to put others at ease.

Strength#16
Spirituality, sense of purpose, and faith
You have strong and coherent beliefs about the higher purpose and meaning of the universe. You know where you fit in the larger scheme. Your beliefs shape your actions and are a source of comfort to you.

Strength#17
Capacity to love and be loved
You value close relations with others, in particular those in which sharing and caring are reciprocated. The people to whom you feel most close are the same people who feel most close to you.

Strength#18
Hope, optimism, and future-mindedness
You expect the best in the future, and you work to achieve it. You believe that the future is something that you can control.

Strength#19
Citizenship, teamwork, and loyalty
You excel as a member of a group. You are a loyal and dedicated teammate, you always do your share, and you work hard for the success of your group.

Strength#20
Zest, enthusiasm, and energy
Regardless of what you do, you approach it with excitement and energy. You never do anything halfway or halfheartedly. For you, life is an adventure.

Strength#21
Caution, prudence, and discretion
You are a careful person, and your choices are consistently prudent ones. You do not say or do things that you might later regret.

Strength#22
Modesty and humility
You do not seek the spotlight, preferring to let your accomplishments speak for themselves. You do not regard yourself as special, and others recognize and value your modesty.

Strength#23
Industry, diligence, and perseverance
You work hard to finish what you start. No matter the project, you "get it out the door" in timely fashion. You do not get distracted when you work, and you take satisfaction in completing tasks.

Strength#24
Self-control and self-regulation
You self-consciously regulate what you feel and what you do. You are a disciplined person. You are in control of your appetites and your emotions, not vice versa.

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I now know which Nicole Kidman character I am. Egad.

2006-11-11T23:54:00.000-04:00

Z hates Nicole Kidman. I can't say I agree, I actually liked "Eyes Wide Shut". And I'm proud of her for hanging in there for her contractual term with Tom. I'm sure her sanity was tested every waking moment.

So here is the Nicole Kidman character I am. I've never heard of this movie and have no clue what this is supposed to mean. Stupid quizzes.

Which NICOLE KIDMAN Character Are You?

"Diane Arbus" in FURYou're a creative super freak and a true trailblazer. Good for you for embracing your curiousity. But do try and maintain your sanity whilst living on the edge. It's a highwire act.
Take this quiz!

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| Make A Quiz | More Quizzes | Grab Code

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Whoopeee!

2006-11-09T20:40:00.000-04:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vo7Sng5Jeb0

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2006-11-09T13:31:00.000-04:00

A visit to the genitalia reproduction factory

2006-11-09T13:25:00.000-04:00

I love San Francisco. Just yesterday I tried to explain to Z and beautiful best-friend (mini-dwarfen marine boy who looks like Tobey Maguire) that the former "Chamber" in Atlanta didn't have sh#t on San Francisco's Tenderloin.

Today, in the San Francisco Chronicle, a journalist visits the supreme dildo factory of all time. This dildo factory not only makes the most realistic feeling toys known to man (unlike that made in china synthetic crap) but generously compensates employees with nice wages and great benefits. Somebody give me a job, dammit.

Read and enjoy - A visit to the dildo factory.

"Violet and the Dildo Factory" by Violet Blue.
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/g/a/2006/11/09/violetblue.DTL

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2006-11-06T11:25:00.000-04:00

Borat - Funniest Movie of All Time

2006-11-06T11:21:00.000-04:00

So my sweetness and light, Z, took me to a 10:35 matinee yesterday for Borat. I hadn't had breakfast yet, but I ate a little carton of popcorn with a little diet coke. I had made sure to use the restroom right before the movie....

And freaking Borat made me pee all over the movie seat. I'm not ashamed. I laughed so hard I peed. Cleanup afterward was a little embarrassing, but I didn't care. Those heathens watching Borat on a Sunday morning don't bother me.

Well worth the movie ticket price, and I may go back and see it a couple more times. Abso-freaking-lutely hysterical.

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Snewo & Charky's Way Yummo Smoothie Recipe

2006-11-06T11:16:00.000-04:00

My kid is great. Last night, she said, "Mommy, I want a smoothie for dinner. Can we make a smoothie?"

I was totally in the mood because I ate crappy on Saturday...so we made the most awesome smoothie just off the top of our heads. While eating it (with a spoon, nice frozen yogurt consistency) Charky told me to write the recipe down.

So here it is.

Snewo & Charky's Way Yummo Smoothie Recipe

1 banana, in chunks
1 pear, in chunks, very little skin
1 carrot, in slices
1 heaping spoonful (like soup spoon size) peanut butter
1 heaping spoonful (soup spoon size) flax seed, the smushed up kind
1 scoop of vanilla protein powder (any brand, mine's from Costco)
2 tbl. vanilla extract (because my protein powder isn't very vanilllaey)
1 cup plain (sour) yogurt
1/3 - 1/2 cup splenda
10 oz. glassful of ice cubes.

Blend. Serve. Tha Bomb diggity.

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2006-11-02T18:27:00.001-04:00

2006-11-02T18:27:00.000-04:00

2006-11-02T18:26:00.001-04:00

2006-11-02T18:26:00.000-04:00

2006-11-02T18:25:00.000-04:00

Aliens

2006-11-02T18:24:00.000-04:00

Plot-O-Matic

2006-11-01T22:28:00.000-04:00

Okay, so Yahoo! says that November is National Novel Writing Month. I was interested because I had one hell of a dream last night - the stuff movies are made of. Read Yahoo!'s bit about this novel thingie. http://dir.yahoo.com/thespark/3750/get-ready-to-write

Anyway, Yahoo! also sent me to the plot-o-matic. Do the plot-o-matic thingie and you can send in your screenplay ideas to Hollywood moguls. Soon they will deposit *8 gazillion dollars in your checking account and you can move to Barbados.

http://www.maddogproductions.com/plotomatic.htm

Check it.

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Little mental prayer

2006-11-01T17:52:00.000-04:00

I'm a confessed buddhist, which doesn't really lend itself to the belief in an old, gray-haired man in robes who resides in the clouds in a place called heaven. However, I read this prayer today and I was touched. I need more prayer in my life, just to keep me on even keel.

Supposedly this is the prayer of St. Francis, who I only know because people bury him in their yard when they want to sell their house. I actually think he didn't sell his own home, so I'm a little confused about the significance. And as I didn't pay much attention in my own sunday school experiences (except for the good parts, Bathsheba falling out of the window; Jesus telling the disciples to pay less attention to what happens after death, more attention to this life) I don't know who St. Francis was or what he did or how he sold his house. Help from Catholics needed.

Anyway, as I digress like usual, here is the prayer.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace, Where there is hatred, let me sow love;where there is injury, pardon;where there is doubt, faith;where there is despair, hope;where there is darkness, light;where there is sadness, joy;

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

( Oh yeah - St. Francis was the animal guy. I like that. )

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