HUGZ

Today while walking to my Chemistry Lecture class, I had to walk past a small group of people hanging out in a spot that seems both popular and oddly inconvenient....  As I was passing, one of the individuals looked up, angled toward me, stretched out his arms, and asked me if he could have a hug.

"A hug?"  I repeated back shrugging.  "Sure!"

We hugged very briefly, and I was on my way.





This is what I would like to discuss from this experience:

My initial reaction to this was to think how things like this don't really happen that often.  I was sad for how our society has de-evolved.  How people live their lives so closed off, and distrusting.  I mean, how awesome are hugs?  This individual totally brightened my day.  How awful a concept it is that people are guarded against a gesture as simple as a hug, or how much courage it would even take to offer a complete stranger a hug.

But the more I reflected on this...  I had to change my mind.  Why?  Because there was one little fact that I have yet to mention.  Something that is, in present day, otherwise nearly insignificant.  (And with hope someday will be completely insignificant.)  The man that asked for /offered this hug, is African American.

So, I have to revise my original statement on our society disintegrating.  Because as rare as a stranger giving another stranger a random hug may be today, a short 60 years ago, two complete strangers, a black man and white woman, randomly hugging in a crowded public place, would have been next to unfathomable.

Maybe it's a glass half empty/full thing, but I have to acknowledge the vast improvement on this one point at least.  We may have a long way to go.  We may be backsliding on other aspects.  But how amazingly awesome is it that our society has come so far on righting at least this one aspect?

RESET

The last you heard from me was with promises still of elaborating on something that had upset me last spring.  Well, I've decided that isn't going to happen.  Not now anyway.  I'm sure the person that upset me will cross my path again someday, and I'm sure I'll be tempted to explain it all again then.  But for now all I would have to say to this person is this:

I haven't even engaged in conversation with you in well over a year without the exception of you speaking to me first, so telling people I'm stalking you is absurd and a little creepy at this point. You are beneath me.  Stop dragging me into your drama.  Get over yourself.

Enough said.  (For now at very least.)

My life has actually significantly changed in the last year.  But I'm trying to think of a year that I've been able to look back and not say that.  It's funny how things never seem to alter too much from day to day, but will be significantly different by the end of the week.  (Then again, I have had some whoppers of sudden change in a single day as well.)  But where I am right now is in the second year of college and taking things relatively easy.  Not pushing myself to do too much like I always used to, but keeping busy all the same.  I've started some new courses, and I'm enjoying everything but English it would seem.  (Irony not lost on me.)  I've started writing for the Royal Purple, the school paper.  I'm learning Japanese and it would seem I'm not horrible at it.  I'm still working And my social life is getting a bit more back on track.  In fact...  I may or may not have met someone...  (Don't want to get ahead of myself there.)

I suppose this is where the most significant change has occurred for me.  The social life in general, not the meeting someone.  Because as you all know, I'm REALLY not wanting to or looking to have anyone in my life in a romantic capacity.  I just don't see it working out with the whole college and career track thing.  Time is a precious commodity and not something I have to spend on romantic partners....  damn it, I'm getting ahead of myself again.  It's the social life in general that I was talking about here. Right...

So, at the beginning of this year I briefly had enough curiosity to visit the Non-Trad Pad.  A small corner of the University Center for the Adult students to call home and connect.  The first day I went was interesting.  Nothing special, but interesting enough to inspire a second visit.  The second day...  was nothing. A complete let down actually.  Only one other person was there, and we didn't mesh on any level.  Nothing against the person particularly, he's actually very kind and gentle.  It's just sometimes you just find little things like tone of voice or habits grating at times.  I'm confident that others have felt the same about me as well.  We all have our pet peeves.

I left that day thinking I wasn't going to be trying that out very often anymore.  But on my way out I was stopped by another non-trad woman I had never met before who informed me they were having a meeting that night that I should attend.  Reluctantly I agreed, thinking it might be worth a listen to what other adult activities were coming up.  Imagine my surprise when I arrived at the meeting to find it was not to give information about the upcoming events, but to plan them.  I'm suddenly making flyers and doing more hands on work with the group, and finding myself in the Non-Trad Pad every school day.  Brilliant.

But since then I have had people to go bowling with, to corn mazes with (if it hadn't been cancelled for rain.) and this weekend I will be walking in the homecoming parade with the group as well.  And yesterday I even had a new friend over for video games and movies.  Yay for social life again.

I'm sure I'll have more to say soon, but I had to catch everyone up to speed before further posts.  And by "all" I mean the three people that maybe actually be reading this.  This is kind of my way of hitting the reset button on my blog.  I've decided to take a new approach to my posts to encourage posting more frequently.  And with a little less...  um...  I don't know...  whining?

Forewarning, the posts to come may seem a bit more on the disjointed side.  What I'm intending is to use this space almost as a format like that of the Facebook status update, between the more detailed postings.  Slightly longer that status updates... but random passing thoughts in general.  And on that note, I will end this post with just such a thing as example proper:

Hugging Etiquette?

There is a certain unspoken set of rules for just about everything.  Including hugs goodbye.  Is it just me or would you agree with my following thoughts here?

If it is close family a hug is a hug, doesn't matter how long or short.
If it is a romantic partner, there is a certain expected time minimum to meet.  If the hug is too short, it feels like something is amiss.
If it is a platonic relationship, there is a time maximum and hugging too long can make it seem like something more and can start to lean towards the definition of an "embrace."
Which then would have to be remedied by introducing the "friend tap"--a quick double pat on the back cuing the end of the hug--placing the hug back into a category of between friends and something more.

I Don't Sleep Anymore

I don’t sleep anymore.

Sure, I may lie in my bed for 8 hours or more with my eyes shut, but it isn’t sleep.  Not really.  I’ve been having nightmares.  The kind that you can’t remember.  The kind that are actually just regular dreams but you wake from them thinking something horrible was about to happen, and you just don’t know what.  You got out of there before it did.

Actually, I do remember a couple of bits and pieces here and there.  A dream about a former employer thinking I was awful at my job.  A dream about being on a date with some attractive stranger and just plain wanting to wake up before anything good or bad happened.  A dream about getting really fat until my knees were sagging upwards.  (Don’t ask.)  But remembering three snippets of dreams when I know I've been having at least 5 unique dreams each night is hardly a good track record.

It’s been like this for the last month or so.  I stare at my computer, usually until 3 or 4 in the morning either writing or doing work on illustrations…  Taking occasional breaks for Castelville…  I go to bed, and the next 6-8 hours of sleep happen in chunks of half hour dosages.  I assure you it’s driving me out of my pretty little mind.  Particularly when the rest of the diurnal world wakes and has no awareness that my apartment sucks in every little sound like some audio vacuum.  Granted I have been saved from a couple of dreams by this and should be thankful, but I’m not.  I used to be able to sleep through a dump truck driving through a nitroglycerin plant.  But I guess due to the stress of the last couple of weeks and the nightmares I’ve been having as a result, I’ve become quite the light sleeper.

I’ve been bottling a few things lately, and I think it’s coming close to that time of the great purge.  I’ll have to work on those posts I’ve been meaning to very soon here.  Just not tonight.  Tonight, I’m going to NEED my rest.  I have to be at the art studio by 11, and from there I have to go to my mother’s for a “project” she has for me.

She’s been asking for a while and I’ve been putting it off.  But today’s phone call she added a little extra incentive as she let it slip that she discovered a couple of savings bonds (a few months back) of mine.  Yup.  The same savings bonds I asked my mother to relinquish to me near a decade ago and she insisted they were non-existent/already cashed.  …I’d say that it’s better late than never, but I’m not getting hopes up.  I’m willing to bet that they will have mysteriously disappeared again by time I get there tomorrow afternoon.

It’s okay.  I have other things to look forward to tomorrow.  After my mother’s I will be heading off to see musical in Burlington and have dinner with a friend of mine whom I haven’t seen in person in a good 5 years.  She and I met doing theater and are going to support other friends in this production.  This is the second play I will be going to this week actually as I saw, I Love You You’re Perfect Now Change, last night.  Very cute show by the way.

Anyhow.  Here’s wishing you all sweet dreams, and hoping you get more rest than I have been lately.  I'm hopeful now that we have some rain falling tonight that I will rest a bit easier.  G‘night all.

You Should Be Righting Write Now.

A few weeks ago I found out about someone saying some rather unwarranted things about me, and since I've really wanted to vent about it here.  But I'm resisting, and this post instead is going to be about the habit of not only writing, but the habits of writers.  (No I don't mean taking to alcohol.)

As a writer I have a fair network of writer friends.  And with any profession or even obsessive hobby, you get those fanatics that have difficulty dealing with the average person's menial mistakes.  When it comes to writers, number one on the list of offenses comes to be misuse of gramar, spelling, or even just confusing words.

 


Here's what I've noticed.  The people that predominantly bitch about this are usually not helping anything at all really.  The way I see it you can either gently and kindly try educating those closer to you if you know that they legitimately DON'T know the difference, or shut up.  Yelling at people mid argument on youtube comment threads and facebook statuses just to prove you have an education isn't really accomplishing anything."But I see people do this all the time that should know better!!!," you say. (BTW I threw in the extra exclamation points for effect just for you.  My personal gift.  Get over it.)  ;)  You may have proven you have grammatical skills and vocabulary vs your nemesis, but you've also proven you have the social skills of a 7th grader.  Congratulations.  The people you're attacking are really only thinking this.

 

Unless it's me.  I have a whole different category of thoughts for you.  ...granted, none of them too friendly.

As I mentioned earlier, I write.  I write a great deal.  Enough so that I'm developing issues in my wrists and joints, though I know the proper preventative positions I'm suppose to maintain at a keyboard.  I write so much that it is finally starting to pay the bills.  Not completely, but hey, more than previous years.  I never thought I'd make it this far.  When I began writing I did so as a means of entertainment, venting, and hobby only.  Going in reverse order:  It wasn't until my early twenties that I started to suspect that I could maybe make some money on the side with it.  It wasn't until my first attempt at college (an art school) that I realized that I loved to create and tell stories and that I wasn't going to be happy as an animator.  I wanted to create, not work on other peoples' creations.  And it was in high school that I HATED and even FAILED English.

I just didn't get it.  English was hard for me.  Back then I didn't understand the difference between too, to, and two, as easily as I do now.  I had been through nearly a dozen school transfers and picking up where the other kids, and sometimes states, left off was not always an easy task.  The teachers didn't care about ability to tell a story, or plot structure, but grammar and spelling.  Yet, at this point they weren't "teaching" grammar and spelling anymore, just telling you when you were wrong.  Eventually classes got bigger, less one on one time could be afforded, and instead of hearing, "wow, great story, but let's go over the mistakes you're making on spelling in these sections," I just got to read a giant red marker, "C-."  Instead of taking that as a criticism on the technicalities alone, I just started to believe I was a bad writer.  I still loved it though, and thankfully so did my friends.  They begged me for more pages of the novel I was writing in high school and passed loose sheets from desk to desk during classes as I scribbled.  This was the only thing that kept the flame for the hobby kindled enough under my ass to launch me forward later.  Point is, those who are only concerned about the other crap?  Not really supporting and encouraging the arts nearly as much as their delusions may be convincing them. 


 
 
Those of you who may personally know me might be thinking, "But, you're a really good writer and well educated, and we know you're smart!"  Yes.  Now, I have a fairly stacked vocabulary and understanding of "the rules."  But it took me a long time, and the initiative of going out and learning it on my own.  And yes, I too cringe when incorrect variations of words are used willy-nilly, but I take it with a grain of salt and have the sense to not publicly tear into people for it.  I have the competence to know the difference between those who just don't care, those who just haven't been given or don't understand the information of which version of a word is appropriate, and those who just made a typo. All that and the fact that I know I still have a great deal to learn still, and still use too many commas at times, or just plain make little slips.

This is where the bulk of my resentment comes in.  I was talking to a friend last week who was gracious enough to discuss paranoia over making a mistake in simple text messages.  She expects ridicule and must fight with her phone to fix it before pressing send.  I empathized as I do the same.  There is this extra ounce of pressure on those who carry a reputation for being well educated like she and I.  We not only hear, "you're wrong," but "you should know better."

Really, jackass?  I do know better most times.  And if I don't, as mentioned before, this is not the way to share your knowledge with me and help me to not make the same mistake again later, just a way for you to try and bully me by saying "I'm smarter than you."  This is something I encounter most often in other "writers."  And I'm putting that in quotes because these are people that aren't actually writers, but editors.  These are people that I know that write for magazines and various columns that really don't do much of anything on a creative level, but rather copy and paste facts into organized boxes.  These are not the people who have written hundreds of short stories, or four hundred page novels.  These are people who simply cling to wanting the label of "writer" as if it lends their cubicle life some pretense of prestige.  What these individuals fail to understand is the concept of muscle memory.

I have another friend that has really started to knuckle down and write much more actively than he used to.  He's noticed an odd increase in misused words/spellings and similar typos.  I found myself explaining how the more you write, the more the chances are that your fingers are going to go on autopilot and type the version of the word they are accustomed to typing out most often.  In other words, if you use the word "their" three times in the last paragraph, it is only going to be that much harder to switch to "there" in the next paragraph.  Or sometimes even the next day.  Problem is, when you're getting extra creative, your brain is so focused on the story as it is unfolding in your head that it really isn't putting your motor functions on the front burner.  Face it, you've been sitting on your ass, barely moving with the exception of the occasional reach for a beverage, for the last three hours.  Your fingers are flying and pretty much have a mind of their own at this point.  You start to trust that they are doing what you want, not what they are used to.  Mistakes happen.  And chances are they happen more frequently the more you write and more creative you are.


I'm NOT Hemmingway!  Stop IT!!!!

The next major pet peeve I have with my network of writing friends is their conceptions of what rules are rules instead of guidelines and their attempts at nudging me to conform to the format they (and most) expect me to follow.  Again... I should "know better" right?  This is wrinkling my brain.  I do understand the "rules" as many would call them: Don't change perspective mid chapter.  Don't give multiple points of view.  Have a narrator.  These are things that go beyond "voice" which every author has.  This is entering territory of "style."  Authors tend to choose to write in first person or third person, etc...  Really, a lot of the voice and style you choose is going to reflect upon what demographic of readers you're going for.  

The group I like to write for?  Movie goers.  Let's face it.  There are large groups of people out there that just do not care to read.  They don't have the time, or ...well, whatever excuse they choose to hide behind.  Truth is, for many, they find reading to be pretentious.  It kind of circles back to the whole, patronize people as idiots they will believe they are.  And reading is for "smart people."  And attempts at reading books like Twilight or Harry Potter only opens the door to ridicule as well.  Again, I'm going to ask what you're trying to accomplish here?  Would you rather this demographic of non-readers pick up a story that is designed to entertain that could serve as a gateway or stepping stone to other books, or would you rather they go back to the latest episode of Jersey Shore?  BACK OFF, They're READING at least!  You're hurting the very cause you're pretending to support.  







Before I side track off on THAT tangent, bringing the point of this section back into focus, I am not Hemingway.  The world already has a Hemingway.  And if people want to read his style, they will pick up one of his books, not mine.  I have no reason to imitate what he did.  Or Chaucer, or Steinbeck, for that matter.  The scenes in my books play out like TV and movies.  You follow one character until another comes into the room, the original character leaves, and now its the new character's story.  Every chapter an episode.  Every scene a set stage.  Is it going to make it harder to get noticed by a major publisher?  Absolutely.  Will I possibly never be rich since I'm trying to attempt the impossible and appeal to the people who have given up ambitions of reading?  Thanks for reminding me.  Is what I do fulfilling and important to me?  Damn straight.


But it's working.  The most frequent compliment I hear from my readers is "I don't usually like reading but I like your stuff for some reason.  I don't know why."  It could be because I'm not getting overly snobbish about the "rules" of writing, relaxing and just letting my reader enjoy the story.  I'm putting more energy into the plot and characters than I am imitating which authors used what devices and tricks.  Now there's nothing wrong with following the "rules" really.  I'm not going to say you shouldn't.  By all means, go for it if that's your style.  Just don't get snobbish with me, or others for that matter, and presume you know more about writing than I just because I've chosen to deviate.  In my case, at very least, it was a conscious choice.  I know my reasons even if you don't and I shouldn't have to explain them to you.




In conclusion, I'm going to wrap this up by my pointing out/overstating the theme of this piece.  If you're going to help, help in a gentle fashion.  Thankfully I've sorted out which of my writer friends can give me useful feedback without being pushy or condescending.  Do not try and act like you are the gods' gift to intelligence.  Stop being snobbish about writing and editing.  Stop complaining that people are dumb and don't read anymore, and then intimidate people for trying to read and write.  Remember that Facebook statuses are not crafted with intention of rank on the New York Times Bestsellers list.  Doing these things make you about as useful as the skinny bitch at the gym that snickers and makes the heavy girls too self conscious to show up to their workout class, and then complains about how many fat people there are in the world.  This isn't putting you on display as intelligent, only a bully.

A DROP IN THE BUCKET ….LIST

I’m gearing up for a post about a couple of rather ironic, and altogether stressful experience I’ve had in the past week.  As I’ll need a few days to calm down still, I thought I would put this out there in the meantime, and I'm going to need all of your help.

I like to live life to the fullest.  I believe there is so much to learn in life, and I want at least a pinch of everything.  One of my earliest lessons learned was, life is short.  There is a lot to do, and little time to do it.  I had a few wasted years that I should have been going to museums and camping under the stars.  I don’t ever want to sit in idle again.

So in the last couple of years, I’ve made some adjustments.  I made a visit to the Museum of Science and Industry and the Chicago Art Museum and the Milwaukee Art Museum.  I’ve gone to pumpkin patches and corn mazes, rode hayrides, gone camping.    I took a trip to Norway, and hopped on a plain to Miami by myself for little to no reason.  I went to an outdoor showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show.  I’ve had a couple of leads in plays.  I went back to school, won writing awards, and successfully earned my place on the dean’s list.  …But it’s not enough.  And that’s where all of YOU come in.

Credit for this idea goes part in partial to a friend who has recently been sharing their own bucket list.  (A respectably lengthy list of equally respectable goals.)  I decided to put my own twist on the idea of a bucket list, and that is to open it to the floor, so to speak.  You, whether friend or stranger, are welcomed to comment on this post, and add things to a rough draft of my bucket list.  All ideas are welcomed, whether it be “find true love,” “visit Montana,” or “participate in a zombie walk.”  Add things whether you think I’ve done them already or not.  I could surprise you.  For example, few people know that I’ve never been to a comicon.  Be creative.  Be bold.  Have fun!

Happy suggesting!  : )

ADVENTURES AT RANDOM

I’ve realized I haven’t put up a post like this in a while.  Maybe things finally calmed down enough in my life.  Maybe I’ve been too focused on more serious aspects.  Maybe a lot of things.  But this is one of those posts I originally envisioned for this blog.  Random stuff that leaves you scratching your head thinking, “how did that just happen?” whether good or bad.  And the last couple of weeks, I’ve had my fill.

Father’s Day

My stepfather is a great guy.  No, not perfect, but a genuinely kind and generous individual.  He may not have always known what to do with a little girl in tow.  He was more accustomed to baseball than Barbie.  …but then again…  so was I.  And if anything, that may have only made him all the more confused and uncomfortable.  Things have not always run smoothly between he and I.  In fact, there were moments that our relationship had bumps a Zamboni couldn’t iron out.  Like when my mother told me that he was angry with me for going to live with my grandparents for a while, “abandoning” the family after the car accident.  That he helped raise his siblings after his father died during his teens, and he expected me to do the same.  It took a couple of years before I wised up enough to realize my stepfather NEVER would have wished that responsibility on anyone, let alone his daughter.  In reality it was mother saying this, while pretending to be a ventriloquist.  I was not as wise then as I am now.

So, my dad?  Very friendly, patient man.  My mom?  Not so much.  And it takes a GREAT deal of energy for me to tolerate her.  I rarely make any kind of in-person appearances anymore, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I can’t do it by myself sometimes.  So this father’s day, when my phone rang begging me to join the “family gathering,” I enlisted the help of a friend to accompany me to help keep me…  let’s just say “even-tempered.”  My mom tends to be better behaved when there’s a new face in the room, and distracted from saying or doing other things that tend to annoy us all.

This I knew would be the best gift I could give to my dad for Father’s Day.  This, is why I know he likes the rare occasions when I visit.  I serve as a distraction for my mother, so he isn’t hounded by her CONSTANT nagging and demands.  This, was possibly the only reason I mustered the strength to make an appearance at all.  For his sake.  It was Father’s Day after all.

My friend Nando would be entering, what I’ve likely given him the impression of as ground zero, for the first time.  Not many of my friends are allowed to meet my family anymore.  And often enough, those who do, are usually only introduced so that they may have a better understanding of things I’ve described from my childhood.  And thus the adventures ensued.  Actually, the day went rather well.  Rather strange, and tense at moments while Nando is a teacher, and my mother supports Walker.  …she also says she supports unions, which should illustrate plenty without me having to spell it out for you.  But the piece-de-resistance of the evening was when my dad put the food on the table, and we all started to dig in to the bounty of grilled meats.  (I never fully understood why I grew up to be such a carnivore until sitting down to this food and realizing an odd disappointment that there were no side dishes.  Just brats, chicken, hotdogs, and sausages.  I had not only grown to appreciate veggies in the last decade, but also miss their presence?)  Anyhow, back to dinner conversation, a smattering of polite compliments towards my dad’s grilling expertise issued around the table.  And moments later out of nowhere.

“Remember that Mother’s Day when I packed up the boys, and left you behind?”  My mother blurted out.

I couldn’t do much more than stop chewing for a second.  Give a short, “Yup.”  And hope to the Gods that she drop it.  But I felt that old inspiration for a nervous tic to develop.  You know, that cinematic eye twitch that allows an audience to grasp a character’s utter befuddlement.  REALLY?  You want to bring up my abandonment issues in front of the entire dinner table, including a friend of mine you never met before, and your visiting stepson that has NO knowledge of this history?  ON Father’s Day, you want to talk about how you left your husband on a Mother’s Day?  And abandoned me in the driveway when I asked where you were going?

“I shouldn’t have done that, I guess.”  My mother continued, completely oblivious to her own impropriety.  “I probably should have taken you with me.  But you wouldn’t have come anyway.”

Um, NO.  You shouldn’t have left your husband on Mother’s Day, period, is what you shouldn’t have done.  *Nervous eye twitch…  “Great brats dad…”  Though I wanted to follow that with, “do you have any alcohol in the house?”  But thankfully she dropped it from there.

A Day For Me.

I’ve been working on the text book for the professor, as well the illustrations for it, (as I have officially landed the contract now.  I LOVE what I’m doing.  Setting my own hours.  Working from home.  ….working from home.  ….hrmm…

There is some good and bad to be said about this.  The good is: No gas spent.  Make my own hours.  No one looking over my shoulder.  Take breaks whenever I need.  And the best of all, I can work in my underwear if I so feel the urge.  And don’t think I haven’t from time to time.  The downside…  I may not leave my apartment for days on end.  My whole world tends to be restricted to white walls and brown carpet.  Add a little stress over finances to this equation, and I get overwhelmed and need to bust out.

So, I called up that same friend mentioned from earlier, Nando, to see if a movie was possible, and the whirlwind of adventure to follow was amazing!

First it was to a quick bite to eat before seeing a movie.  This was uneventful, at best.  It was kinda crappy food, and overpriced as such, in my opinion.  But between this and the theater, I made a motion for getting some candy at the store.  We had some time to kill, and so sue me, I don’t have the cash to buy all my concessions at the theater.  (I do buy my beverage there.  I know they make the most profit from soda sales.)  Stopping at the local Walmart was where the real adventure began.  Pulling into our space, we noticed several tents and trucks set up in front of the store.  There was also a large fireworks tent at the front of the parking lot, so realizing this had to be something different, our curiosities peaked.  Then I saw one last addition. 

WACKY WAVING INFLATABLE ARM FLAILING ….Spider-MAN???

That’s right.  Spider-man.

A promotional stunt coupled between Walmart and Sony for a big push on both the movie about to release this summer, and the new video game that will release as well.  The video game, I had low expectations for when first learning of it.  Despite the fact that Bruce Campbell does a great deal of voice acting for the game.  …Let’s face it, the last few Marvel Comics based video games haven’t been,  “super” (pardon the pun.)  We approached the tents inquisitively, and were met with extreme welcome.  Rice Krispie Treats, Cheese Nips, Little topple guys…  There was SO much free stuff, and it was all shoved at us saying, “Please take more, we have truckloads of this stuff we need to get rid of.”  And yet somehow all I could bring myself to take was a couple of Rice Krispie Treats.  And then I hear, “Also there’s a couple of game consoles over there, if you’re gamers.  If you can beat the demo, you can win the Spiderman Mask that’s on the table.”

Challenge accepted.

Mission Accomplished!

I love this mask!  …okay, so I’m a big kid.  But whatever.  If you really want to make fun of me for it I will make it easier on you and confess that I was coincidentally wearing my Spiderman underwear that day too.

I remember once upon a time having a conversation with a friend where I confessed that I didn’t feel like I was as geeky as everyone thought.  I wasn’t afraid of being thought of as a geek.  To the contrary I feel that’s an honorable position in society.  Quite the opposite, I felt like a poser.  Like people were going to catch on that I didn’t know nearly as much about comics and things as they suspected I did.  My friend just blinked at me and responded somewhere along the lines of, “Nnnnnooo….  I don’t think so.  You’re pretty GD geeky.”  It still took me a year or two to trust I could hold my own around other geek circles though.  Problem is, whether you acknowledge it or not, geek circles can be DAMN territorial.  As if always guarded against infiltrators.  They will test you, throwing out random bits of trivia, seeing if you can keep up.  Are you truly one of them?  Or are you actually one of the jocks that used to pick on them in high school?  Or are you the dumb girl, that can tell you the name of every boy band member, but who’s favorite comic book character is “x-man.”  And if you don’t know what a D-20 is, chances are, you’ll be run out of the shop, chased down by replica Lord of the Rings swords.  *Mint in box!

And that last paragraph?  Had so many geeky references in it, I dare you to find them all.  ; )  But don’t worry, I won’t chase you off if you didn’t catch it all.

Off to BRAVE the movie theater.

Pixar’s name shouldn’t have been put on this film.  We all know that certain flair that Pixar has to its storytelling.  It is the original voice, when we no longer thought original voices were possibly left.  We also know the feel of Disney’s storytelling.  I’m not saying one is better than the other.  Just different.  Personally I appreciate both styles respectively.  Perhaps it’s because Pixar has never really gone with a “princess” storyline before.  This is obviously much more a Disney trait.  This is also what makes me laugh a little because Disney worked SOOOO hard on getting its hands on names like Pixar and Marvel with the intentions of “butching up” its image.  It needed to better grab the male demographic and all those dollars they carry along with it.  …And then it does THIS?  Fems up the pixar aspect?

Now yes, the character Merida, is a strong independent type of typical ideal female role model.  Who as a result of which becomes a whiney brat.  Until lessons are learned and blah blah….  I’m not going to give a full review.  Because on the whole, I really did enjoy the film.  It had a good deal of humor.  Billy Connolly was hilarious.  The triplet brothers were fantastic comic relief.  But there just wasn’t much… originality.  No memorable lines to take away.  Chances are if I say, “Fish are friends, not food” or “Shark Bait! Hoo-rah-rah!” you know that’s Finding Nemo.  Or “Hi, my name is Dug, I just met you, and I love you.  SQUIRREL!” you’re ready to jump out of your seat and answer, “UP!”  And of course who could forget… “The cla-a-a-a-a-aw!  OOOOoooooooooh!”  So on the whole, it was a good movie.  And there were parts at which I was bouncing in my seat for the excitement of it.  The 3-D was expertly executed and the adventure was on par.  My only recommendation is, go in expecting Disney, not Pixar.

On To Conquer Lands

After the movie, it was time to head off to the comic book store with Nando to play a round of Game Of Thrones.  I haven’t gotten much chance at playing many games like this.  Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE them.  But the problem is this.  Either I end up playing with a group where the guys can’t play so much as hit on me.  (*Gasp!  Here we get rare footage of the mythed female geek, entering the herd of gamers!—Next on National Geographic!)  …Actually one of our conversations during the game DID go something to this effect.  But, no…  I don’t like playing in a group where it’s implied I’M the prize.  Playing with girls is fun…  But I don’t have any female friends in this area that like to play.  …Not enough, by far, anyway.  And every other opportunity I’ve had to play…  well, that’s usually been with guys I actually WAS dating, and it was dictated as “Boys Night.”  …No girls allowed.  ….*really?

I suppose this pisses me off more than I’ve ever let on.  I mean, I COMPLETELY understand the guys needing to be guys and have a night away from the “women” folk.  …but can’t there be the occasional game set up where everyone is welcome, in addition to “boys night?”  Must I be excluded from ALL games? Either being a female means I’m welcomed in overenthusiastically, or banished to the outlands.  I suppose the reason it really gets under my skin is because the message I’ve been sent with this hot cold reception I have personally experienced is, “female gamers are more than welcome, but only if we all have a chance at sleeping with you.” ….I guess in the end, it just shows how much those former romantic interests to exclude me from the activities I love were beneath my efforts. 

So, this is why I like this group of gamers.  This is why I like hanging out with Nando.  It has become a rare thing indeed for me to find a male friend that includes me in the geeky activities I adore without doing so just in attempts to try and date me.  In fact, Nando is the only one that doesn’t give ANY kind of pressure towards the “romantic” and just lets me be me.  And don’t get me wrong, because I admire any time a person works up the courage to show someone they may care for more than friendship to ANYONE…  But chances are, and I know this is hypocritical but, if I didn’t give you some clue that I’d be interested back?  You likely just threw our entire friendship out the window.  NOPE, sorry.  Can’t go anywhere with you anymore without me panicking that you’re trying to date me without officially dating me.  I refuse to give false hope a chance to grow.  But I refuse to rant anymore on that front.  I’ll save that for my next post, when I decide to rant about some of the wholly inappropriate communications recently delved out to me.

For now, I will just cap this post off with my pitiful notion of possibly entertaining the idea of hosting a game night once a week.  Of course this will dictate that I will have to break my rule of how many people will be allowed to know where I currently reside.  …Not sure if I’m ready for that and it will take some meditation.  But as the comic shop I’ve been enjoying is closing, something must be done.  Best I can say for now is…  we’ll see?

I HATE BLANK PAGES

I’ve been trying to write an installment to my blog for a while.  But I keep ending up with yet another blank page before me.  It’s odd, because A LOT has happened in my life recently, and yet I can’t seem to write any of it down.  My instincts are, as usual to wax philosophical about romance and love, but when I begin to give in to those urges this installment seems to want to turn to wax pedantic  …and then wax profane.  : /

Then I hit the backspace, and stare once more at the blank page.

So, let’s skip all that and just focus on some of the "positive," shall we?  Maybe we’ll circle back around to the relationship bits someday, and how I’m still in love with someone from my distant past who, honestly doesn’t even exist anymore.  A short summary would be my new and difficult resolution to look forward to romance, (not backwards.)  But for now, I just can’t handle putting pronouns and adjectives much further than that to what it is I want to express.    And I am determined to move on.  …always moving on.  Right.  Let’s, shall we?

A NEW JOB

Or three.  It’s kinda funny, but, I was REALLY looking forward to May.  I was getting all geared up for it thinking, THIS TIME I’m going to be ready!  THIS TIME I’ll embrace the good things and not worry about the world crashing around my ears.  …And then, nothing.  I got to May, and my new place, and nothing really changed.  And we’ll get to the other bits in the next section, but here we’re talking about work.

So, forgive me for saying so but, I don’t WANT to go back to work.  I mean, I’m not lazy.  I’m not.  I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.  But doing the heavy-lifting awful-hours type of jobs I’ve always had?  Give me a break.  You wouldn’t want to go back either.  I’ve done these jobs my whole life thus far, and put plain and simple… They wear me out.  Body and soul.  Especially soul.  If I had to describe how I feel about some of the things I’ve had to do day in and day out in the past, it honestly wouldn’t be that far of a stretch to say: it’s like being forced to club puppies to death eight hours a day—just a little more of me died inside with each swing of the… clock's pendulum.  A gory analogy, I know, but effective.

So, when I started applying around town I couldn’t bring myself to feel much enthusiasm for ANY of it.  And most places I was applying weren’t hiring currently, but promised to “keep me on file.”  Yeah.  Remind me to hold my breath.  But I did have one resource I’ve never had before.  The university’s job placement website for alumni and students.  And once I figured out how to use the damn thing…  I got call after call.  THREE of which looked extremely promising and THREE of which I was excited for.

The First Job: was an assistant to a professor.  I thought originally that the job was doing not much more than data entry and making rubrics.  No big deal right?  And not something I was leaping for joy over, but excited in a different way, yes.  I mean…  How good will it look on future applications, especially within the school system, if I can land this?  So I kept fingers crossed, and after some communication was assigned a time for an interview.  And at said interview I was told that she had scheduled three other interviews that day and saved me last for a reason.  “On paper,” she said, “you’re exactly what I’m looking for.”  She said she could see my talent for writing, even in the short emails we sent to each other, and THAT’S what she needs.  I was scratching my head.  Again, I thought this was a data entry position.

It turns out that the professor is writing a book.  A series of health related plays/skits for youngsters.  She needs someone to help organize, do a little copy editing kind of work, and so on.  I also get to play a bunch of educational video games and enter descriptions and hyperlinks for each.  And since then the job has evolved.  I’m now writing the prologue to the book and may have some graphic artist work coming my way associated with it as well.  Now how good is THAT going to look on a resume!!!!  My first real writing job!  My excitement level went through the roof!

The Second Job:  Was for a small business downtown.  I have friends that used to sing its praises once upon a time.  A little coffee shop that they said felt like home.  And when I got my interview I could understand why.  It is a LOVELY little establishment.  Art on the walls, and just plain friendly nature.  The job was for prepping and decorating donuts and pastries.  An early morning thing.  …I’m not a morning person, but I know I’m good at this, need the money, and doing this for a small business will be MUCH more rewarding than for a conglomerate tyrant like Walmart.  So, I kept the interview.  The writing job is on a contract basis where I make my own hours and have 100 hours to distribute however I see fit through the summer.  I can do both with ease!  …but when I got to my interview, I found out that they had hired someone the day before I sent my email.  (And they said they were kicking themselves for it.)  Again, I was told that on paper I’m perfect.

This is two days in a row I’ve been told this.  What the hell happened?  How did I go from being told by Walmart everyday that I’m “replaceable” to this “rock star” status!?  They looked over my portfolio and they DEFFINITELY want me!  …So, it isn’t much for hours.  Just one day a week actually.  But it’s all I need.  And I can’t wait to learn all there is to learn under this FANTASTIC decorator I will be working under.  Between the writing and the cake decorating, I should have enough to get by for the summer.

The Third Job:  Isn’t until Fall.  And I’m very hopeful for it as well.  I don’t see getting turned down for it.  It’s a tutoring position through the school.  One on One tutoring.  Which I have experience in, going back to the fifth grade, as well as helping my brothers with their home schooling, and teaching private art lessons in homes.  Like I said, I’m hopeful.

So that’s that.  What May failed to bring, June saw through.  On the career front at least.  And that’s enough for the moment.


OLD FRIENDS

I’ve been living a bit of the noir life lately.  Or that’s the way of my brain finding some levity to the situation.  A closet full of fedoras, a fridge with little else in it but booze, a dying plant on the kitchen table, and stacks of papers in the living room.  (Okay so the bottles of booze are really old because of how LITTLE I drink, and the stacks are notebooks that I’ve been hard at work writing my novels, but still effective to my illustration.)  I have an empty apartment.  No friends.  No family.  No pets.  …and I’m oddly okay with it.  My friend Nando comes over to hang now and then, and that’s cool.  But other than that, I’m quite alright with being by myself now.  Wasn’t what I was expecting…  but oddly okay with it.  I just wish I had cable for some background noise.  Silence can drive you a little nutty at times.  Especially when you can hear every whisper uttered in the parking lot.  (I’m looking at you, neighbors.)  *eye narrowing.  No seriously, don’t air your personal business out in the parking lot.  I don’t want to hear the drunk ramblings anymore.  > : (

In the last couple of months I think I’ve figured out some of the balance to friends.  And I’ve not reversed my position from the Ohio trip.  Sorry.  That SOOO proved to me that I can’t deal with people in copious masses (especially if they’re taking themselves WAY too seriously.)  It was a bad trip, and that’s the end of it.  But in the last couple of weeks, I’ve also had a good trip.  …Well, as good as it gets under the circumstances.  (Honestly, people in my life need to stop having bad luck and start having good health.)  But it was a road trip with friends to see other friends, and it was a good time catching up and recalling old times.  And in my time there, I realized something strange.

They say children and animals will speak truths.  And I believe “they.”

Once upon a time, I recall going to a coffee house, and a little girl, barely walking age, stumbled past my table.  The mother called out to her several times to come back, but she turned around, looked at her mother, looked at me, and then staggered to my leg and looked to her mother as if to say, “Nah, I’m good.”  Or the time, while walking past a service counter at work, a child in a cart behind her mother reached out to me wanting me to pick her up as I passed.  Random fun little encounters with children and animals that they seemed to want to be near me.  …That changed in my rather bitter past year or so.  That didn’t happen anymore.  Not only did children no longer seem drawn to me, but they actually seemed to not like me much when forced to be.  I couldn’t blame them.  Like I said, I didn’t really want anyone getting close to me, and children are going to pick up on that energy more easily than adults.

But on this trip, something seemed a bit more back to my variation of “normal.”  I had a day with a couple of “little” ones.  One, a baby, not yet walking, who decided that falling asleep in my arms was as comfy a place as any.  Another… maybe eight now, who used to cuddle up with me back when he was merely a toddler, (but doesn’t remember me,) decided that sitting practically on my lap to play computer games with me was a good use of his time.  Not to mention the two new kittens to the household, one of which claimed my knee as its ideal spot for rest nearly any time I sat down.

So…  It’s a positive side I suppose.  I may not have many people in my life anymore.  I may not be trying to fix that necessarily, and am just enjoying the peace and quiet.  But at least I’m not pushing people away either.  It’s a small and strange improvement arriving at the balance I think I need for now.


NOW HERE I AM, staring at the rest of this blank page.  A million words wanting to continue to spill forth.  But as I said at the beginning…  Just can’t do it right now.  Maybe sometime soon.  For now, I suppose this is as good a place as any to end this post.  Happy summer, everyone.  See you soon.