Sex Sandwich And A Nap, Please
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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in the "Ewysiwyg" journal:[<< Previous 20 entries]
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12:52 am
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I'm Angry About Sex Mis-Education
I am up in arms about the mis-education being fed to today's youth (and frankly, yesterday's as well) about sex and there are a few points I want to make.
I'm Angry About STD Awareness
In the 80's a program went through schools called "Stranger Danger". Stranger Danger was supposed to alert children to the concept of predators, help them become alert, and participate actively in their own protection. Stranger Danger came with coloring books, and activities, so that children at the youngest ages could learn to be aware and what to do if they should find themselves in danger.
The problem with the program, was that thousands of children hit the streets, confident that they could do whatever they wanted, play anywhere they liked, stay out past dark, and generally take the candy, so long as they didn't see a man in a trench coat and fedora lurking creepily behind a tree. The concept that evil can be easily spotted, and identified before any harm could befall them was simply pushed down their throats, and their danger, instead of lessening, became much greater.
How is today's STD training any better? Is showing teenagers a bunch of horrific pictures of ulcers, sores, scabs, and growths meant to protect them? All you ever see in this literature is the worst, most foul results--as a warning that if you have sex, then you will become disfigured in this way. Why are they never images of seemingly healthy, happy genitals? I tell you what, I am more than 30 years old, and maintain hyper vigilance with my own sexual health, and that of my partners, but I am not sure I could tell the difference between a pimple and the first signs of a wart, or a bad smell of eating too much red meat and the bad smell of the first stages of gonorrhea. Not to mention that so many of these viruses may never have visible signs to detect in the first place. SO the very idea is that we can show children frightening pictures that really only makes them believe that if they see a swollen, distended, pus covered genital, don't put THAT ONE in your mouth--well that's just preposterous.
I'm Angry About Abstinence Only
There is no good reason to drive over the speed limit. Speed limits are set using a specific formula based on:
- the number of lanes.
- whether it is a divided or undivided road.
- the presence or absence of shoulders.
- the quality and type of surfacing on the roadway and shoulders.
- the road construction method (e.g., high or low crown, thickness of underbed).
- how often the road is rebuilt or undergoes major repairs.
- the driver visibility (e.g., line of sight for cars entering the road at much lower speeds).
- the superelevation in curves.
- the number of and radius of curves.
- the number of access points.
- the presence of driver distractions (e.g., scenic route).
- the normal range of weather conditions (e.g., snow, ice, fog).
- the expected volume of traffic.
- the accident patterns of drivers on comparable roads.
- the location of the road (e.g., urban in neighborhood with children, limited access without pedestrians or slow vehicles.).
Speeding on a road that is not built for excessive sped can lead to reckless endangerment, accidents and fatalities. It's dangerous to speed, and we all know it, and we teach every set of new drivers not to do it.
And yet, cars are advertised on their speed--0-60 in how many seconds, clocked at speeds of upwards of blah blah blah miles per hour, aerodynamics, etc. Speedometers go past 100 even though there is no state in the US where you can legally drive at 100 miles per hour, even for a small stretch. We place cops in all the major areas to stop people who are speeding--because we know they will. We can't tell people NOT to sped, and then make speeding look good on every television program, every car commercial, and even speed ourselves without them expecting to try it for themselves.
But there ARE good reasons to speed, aren't there? In reality, if you are passing under a yellow light, it's best to accelerate to make sure you pass through the entire intersection safely. If you are avoiding impact with another vehicle, if you are driving an ambulance, or a cop car, if you are licensed and trained to go faster than the other drivers for the purpose of safety or protection--then you can and should speed.
Abstinence only has the same problems. We talk to them about how wrong sex is, how unprepared they are, and how dangerous it can be, but we never talk to them about when we had sex, what our reasons were, whether they were good reasons, and what those good reasons are.
There are, in fact, very BAD reasons to have sex: My friends are doing it, my partner wants to, my partner has waited long enough, I am afraid of losing them, I think it's time to take our relationship to the next level, I'm at that age, no one thinks I am old enough to make my own decisions, my partner has done it before but not with me, etc. But there are GOOD reasons to have sex too: Is this the extension of a solid, loving relationship based on trust and mutual respect that you can foresee extending into the future, with or without sex? Do both of you feel physically, emotionally and spiritually ready to engage in sex? Love and lust are perfectly legitimate reasons to have sex, and not to be ignored. It's far more important to make sure they are prepared for it, than to waste time trying to convince them that they will never be wise enough to know when to have sex.
I'm Angry About The "No Sex Before Marriage"
To everything there is a season,
a time for every purpose under the sun.
a time to be born and a time to die;
a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
a time to kill and a time to heal ...
a time to weep and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn and a time to dance ...
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to lose and a time to seek;
a time to rend and a time to sew;
a time to keep silent and a time to speak;
a time to love and a time to hate;
a time for war and a time for peace.
Today the age for first marriages in the United States is more than 27 for men, and over 25 for women. Most couples in today's culture value specific goals before willing to marry, using marriage as proof that their relationship is strong enough (rather than the spring board to accomplishing those goals that was the reason for marriage of our grandparents generation). Almost all of these goals are financial, or financially motivated: steady income, completed educations, in some cases being able to afford a first home, or get out of debt. On average, how many of you waited until you finished college, paid off your credit cards, and had adequately paying jobs before you allowed yourself to have sex?
And if we lived by these standards, aren't we going to make living in a financially responsible way into a punishment for wanting to have sex? At the very least, we are going to propel our young people back down to the incredibly young, early marriages of our grandparents, only with the extended lifespans of future generations, and with a divorce rate like we have (it's dropped down to 48.5%--success!) we would be looking at even more children of divorce, or possibly more third and fourth marriages than we see today.
It just isn't reasonable to ask anyone to wait until they are in their late 20's or even 30's to begin to lead healthy happy sex lives. It would be far better to teach them self awareness, self preservation, and self fulfillment (specifically, masturbation--because if it's just lust, you'll catch less STDs and pregnancies when you are going it solo.) If your child really does wait patiently for true love and marriage, but that marriage doesn't materialize as the 20s move away, the 30s come and go, and the 40s arrive, you may find yourself worrying whether they will ever know the warmth and love of a partner, or find the satisfaction that is specialized to a sexual relationship. There must be a middle ground, where we teach our children to respect themselves, and know what is right for them--at any age.
I'm Angry We Don't Teach Our Children To Ask The Right Questions
"Mommy, why is the sky blue?"
"Daddy, where do babies come from?"
"Teacher, why do we have to do homework?"
How about, "Partner, when were you last tested?"
Sure, we respect curiosity. We encourage critical thinking. We even hope that the narrowed tunnel vision of youth will expand to think globally. But when it comes to sex, we are such naturally prudish about what we are willing to discuss, how can we possibly convey to our children just what questions they should be able to ask and answer before they know they are ready to have sex--the first time, the next time, or one last time.
Protection: Can you tell your parents you would like to buy contraceptives? What methods are you planning on using? Does it work for your partner? Is it effective against STDs or just a contraceptive? Does it require a prescription? How long does it take to become effective? How long is it effective for? Should it be reapplied before having sex again? Does it have any adverse effects? Can those adverse effects affect sex? How and why would it fail? Are there back ups? How do all of those same questions apply to the back up plan?
If the Protection fails: Can you discuss this with your parents? Would you recognize (for example) a genital wart for what it was, on yourself or on your partner? Have you been tested since the last time you had sex? Has your partner? Would you be willing to get tested before having sex now? Would you be honest about your test results? If you were not tested since your last partner, but have had sex before with a new partner since, how would you know which partner infected you, if your tests came back with a bad answer? Do you have the correct name and phone number for every partner you have had since you were last tested, so you can contact them if something unpleasant does come from those test results? Are you willing to contact those previous partners and be honest with them about the results? In the future, will you be prepared to contact me, if new tests say something different, so I can get tested? If the test result is "You are pregnant" what would you do about this pregnancy, with this specific partner? Would you keep the baby, have an abortion, or give birth, but give it up for adoption? How would an abortion effect your mental and physical self before, during and after the procedure? Who would pay for it? Who could you confide in? Would your partner go with you? If you decide to give birth to the child, will you want to be married first? Is this a partner you would want to marry? To raise a child with? If you give birth, will your health insurance cover it? Will your living arrangements/ schooling/ job be effected/lost? Will your partner be there for the childbirth? How would you care for the child? How would you decide how adoption proceedings would be performed?
Emotionally: Can you be open to the possibility that you may change your mind at any time? If one of you does change your mind, before during or even after you have had sex, would you still feel emotionally bonded to one another? How will you react if your partner changes their mind, before, during or after the act? If you have engaged in any sexual activity before, have you ever regretted it, and can you avoid feeling regret now? Can you live with the fact that your parents, your peers, and your peers parents will know that you are engaged in sexual activity? Are you sure that nothing about your decision to have sex is an act of revenge, rebellion, spite or experimentation? Are you confident about your partners motivations?
Can you have an open, honest, frank conversation with your doctor, your parents and your partner about your sexual health and well being before you have sex, after you have had sex, and about sex you would like to have in the future?
If we cannot say the words like mature adults, how can we expect our children to face a partner (or us) with them?
Penis
Vagina
Penetration
Anal
Oral
Contraception
Sex
Lessons about sex need to be about more than just fear, and obligations to the community. It needs to be about open honest communication with ourselves, and the people effected directly by our decisions.
If we can't talk teach our children how to have healthy, fulfilling sex when and if the time is right, then how do we know WE should be having sex either? At what stage did we decide that WE already know the answers to all these questions because we "just do" but that the next generation (and if we aren't careful with them, the one they will surely give birth to completely unprepared) will never be old enough to figure it out for themselves?
They have a right to lead their own lives. But we have an obligation to make sure they lead them with self respect, health, and happiness.
It's time to stop being afraid of what we will encourage them to do, and start encouraging them to do what is right for themselves. If we only teach that sex is a mysterious, but somehow abhorrent anomaly that no one should want to have, when they have some anyway, and figure out we were lying--that it's good, and fun, and with the right partner an experience to last a lifetime--then we will lose their trust completely, and all the lessons we tried to interject will be thrown out sight unseen.
Our generation, like the generation before ours, and the one before that, has made some mistakes about sex. And we worry or children will make the same ones--or worse. If we can't tell them why it was a mistake, or even that we made them, then we can't possibly expect them to learn from them. And we will only have ourselves to blame.
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08:53 am
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10 Minutes of Unadulterated Food Porn
I was at Whryne's house this weekend and celebrated Breshawn (Yay Breshawn! 40 looks DAMNED good on you!) and played Bingo (Yay Bingo! I was 2 spaces away from the $1000 jackpot which was how much we will need if we aren't going to be homeless, and car-less, and therefore jobless in just two easy months! Sad Otter.) and went bowling (Wow! I don't remember bowling being exercise! I remember fun! Yay fun!)
But there was a story I wanted to tell in more depth, cause Day-um.
We woke up early to the squaks and babling of tiny angry people, and somehow this made us late. We wanted to be at Bingo at 3pm, it took ten minutes to get there, nd though I was dressed by 2:30, I still wanted a cigarette.
SO I get up and Whryne (one of my closest friends, and Chocolatier A-go-go) says to me, I thought you wanted to make candy today! I want to practise teaching how to use the Chocolate Tempering Unit." I got pouty, because I really DID want to make chocolate, but I also REALLY wanted to go play Bingo, and I already had the cigarette in my hand to go smoke. So I waffled, and she said, "Let me just show you how." SO I agreed, and this is how it went, EXACTLY:
See the machine? Turn it on. See the chocolate? Put it in. See that button? When it flashes, and it beeps, put one more chocolate in. Now go.
So I went! I went outside to smoke, and confided my disappointment that I would not be able to make candy, nor would Whryne get the practise teaching she needed, but her lovely Stephanie was consoling, and reassured me that Whryne would be ok.
I smoke two cigarettes.
Whryne came out to say, "It's already ready already, dont' you want to make candy?"
Time check: 2:45pm.
I walk inside, and she hands me a ladle. The chocolate int he tempering unit is smooth melted and NOT HOT which is so WEIRD! But it's POURABLE! And she's laid out FIVE sets of candy making motifs, and says, "What do you want to do?"
I opted for bark, thinking this would be the fastest way to get the most chocolate, so she drops this awesome flavorles-until-melted disk of raspberry heaven into my chocolate, and I made a SHEET of chocolate bark. She says, "Next!" and shows me how to make a TRAY of chocolates that come out with awesome edible wallpaper decorations that make them look like professional store bought chocolates and since all of this took 5 MINUTES then she busted out ANOTHER mold, this one I could put big fat salted pretzel sticks in and made canes of chocolate covered pretzels--that look like a fat chain of DAISIES! I am so awesome! and THEN she says, "Didn't you want to make chocolate covered sandwich cookies? And I have these molds for making cups and-- and--and--and"
By now I was so not listening. We had done a full afternoons candy making in less than 8 minutes, and I wasn't even sure how I was going to bring all this home! I mean, candy making is a DAY EVENT! You dig out all the supplies and you do one thing very very well, and then if you aren't to exhausted after clean up, you decide it MIGHT be ok to make one more kind.
I already HAD three kinds, and there was still time and supplies. So instead, she used the extra two minutes to stuff the bowl and ladel into the dishwasher, wiped the machine down with a paper towel and we were ON TIME. It was amazing.
Needless to say, she sent me home loaded down with chocolate. She gave me some extra chocolate dipped spoons for coffee drinking with (they are Hazelnut flavored and made my purse smell good. I want to know if I could eat cereal with them instead.)
So of course, now I want to get Jessie a Chocolate Tempering Unit. They cost like, $200, but if Jessie Hosts a Dove Chocolate Party, then she gets half off the costs of her purchases, and free gifts based on what her friends buy. So I figure, we invite the PTO ladies to bring their kids, and Whryne shows them JUST chocolate crafting fun, and the ladies will all want tempering units to, and then Jessie and I can split the cost, and she can pay me off in chocolates.
Really, I think that's just best for everyone.
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01:07 pm
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Court: Ok, so here's what happened . . .
I have been nauseated over the thought of court since AUGUST when a man came to my door and genteelly made very clear to me that I would be at court, they would arrest me if I didn't appear, and that I needed to sign here here and here to let them know that I had understood him.
See, I had already HAD this discussion once before.
Let me 'splain. *pause* No, there is too much. Let me sum up.
I was dead and then I wasn't and the company that started is thinks that $500 is now worth $3300 and they sued me, but Legal Aid said don't bother, so I didn't go, and now they are demanding I show up and show them evidence of all my valuable assets so they can decide what to take from me.
I have no valuable assets. I have a 401K that loses $3 a year. I have no job, bank account, vehicle, home or joint anything to anyone who does. I take out student loans, but if they think for even one second that I will take out interest bearing loans just to pay off their sorry asses, then they can go take a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut. Take a flying fuck at the moo-oo-n.
I was also supposed to be able to provide copies of bills I am responsible for, but other than the $50 notice that I still owe Wishard for not letting them pull my teeth out, I didn't even have any of those.
I am, in fact, totally under the radar now.
This, however, is not good news. I know we don't have work farms and paupers prisons, but this doesn't mean they couldn't find some horrible way to squeeze blood from a stone, and I just don't have the $1000 it will take for me to file bankruptcy yet.
Here comes the really worse news:
I was worried sick since August. Every month, then week, then day as we grew closer and closer to my court date, I got more and more nervous. I collected what paperwork I could (the W-2 and taxes, the statement about the one month I did have a bank account, and how they cost me more in fees than I actually got to remove at the end of that month, etc.) This week, I woke up every morning literally sick--headaches, nausea, crying jags.
It's on my calendar for tomorrow.
Today, Brian and I got everything together, agreed not to dye our hair pretty colors until after court, and then got out the paperwork to mapquest the location, and approximate time of court.
1:30pm. October 13th.
October WHAT?
October 13th. Yep. I have been saying October 30th since the day I got my summons.
I. Totally. Freaked. Out.
I called the court, and they put me in contact with the sheriff's office, and they made me nervous as hell for whole minutes at a time whil eI became convinced that they were using Magical GPS systems and satellites to track my location and send someone to pick me up right now. Meanwhile, I googled "contempt of court" and "punishment for debts" and worried about having a warrant for my arrest.
Erica: Yes, I was preparing for court on the 30th, but now I realize my paperwork says the 13th--
Robotic Female Assistant of Doom: Your court date was on the 13th, yes.
Erica: Exactly, so I am not sure what I am supposed to do now. Am I in contempt of court? Are they going to arrest me? Am I on the lam?
Unfazed Robotic Female Assistant of Doom: Nothing has been done yet ma'am.
Erica: Should I turn myself in? Should I wait for someone to come for me? Do you know anyone who can sell me a fake identity?
Seriously Unfazed Robotic Female Assistant of Doom and Simplicity: You should wait.
Erica: Seriously? Wait. You can't even give me a hint? Will they have weapons at the ready, or will I be allowed to surrender peacefully? Is it still a hostage situation if I am alone in my home with just my dogs? Mr. Roland is NOT a weapon! Igor Smeagol has diplomatic immunity, but he needs a safe house without cats--
Seriously Unfazed Robotic Female Assistant of Doom and Simplicity Who Can patiently Out Wait Me: If they intend to follow up ma'am, they will send you more paperwork to fill out.
Erica: Paperwork? Just wait, and see if they send me paperwork? That's it?
Female Assistant With My Life In Her Hands: Yes ma'am. Goodbye.
*click*
And just like that . . . . freedom.
It's been more than 2 weeks already. If they were going to assault me with paperwork, I think they'll want to do it before the holiday hits.
Brian thinks that the letter attached, stating that they will be contacting my financial institutions and alerting them to the fact that all my valuables and funds will soon be frozen for evil corporate consumption means taht they looked everywhere for anyone who might have $5 for me, and when they couldn't find one, didn't show up to court either.
Nothing has been done.
I could cheer.
*is totally relieved*
Current Location: United States, Indiana, Indianapolis
Current Mood:  relieved
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10:58 pm
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The Universe is my needy love-lorn over-enthusiastic Stalker
I have been worried all month . . .
I was worried when I got the first notice that I was being sued. I went to Legal Aid and they gave me this advice:
Do you have a job? No.
Do you have any property? Stocks, bonds? Savings? No.
Do you own anything at all? No.
Well, then let them sue you. You don't have to go or anything. They will win, and you can't stop them, and what are they going to do about it? Someday, when you have a job they may garnish your wages . . .
I may be in school for another ten years--
Well, then you will have ten years to worry about it.
And I will probably have to go bankrupt before then . . .
Here's a place to file bankruptcy, don't bother going to court.
But then a few weeks later, I had a person with a summons at my door. It seems that the credit card company believes I am hiding assets--because NO ONE could live on as little as I am claiming to have! Ha!
So I have to go.
To my name, I had $300 in a checking account, and my name was also on the title for the minivan.
So Chase took more than half of the money in my account with "fees" and I had to close it and slink away. And the minivan already had a lein on it because Brian owes back taxes so I was only a little worried they would hold THAT against me--
But worry not. I have a faithful stalker who can't let a "probably fine" haunt me.
Today, poor Brian was hit from behind as he left work. He's shaken, but unhurt. He's a good driver, and he helped keep the trauma to a minimum.
We think the other guy has insurance, and Brian has uninsured insurance if he doesn't. It's only worth about $1200 according to Kelly Blue Book. The damage is so close to the gas tank, I'm afraid to let him drive it without getting it checked. But any damage is probably more expensive than either insurance company is willing to pay out on, so it'll probably be totaled.
So, no more assets . . .
Lucky me . ..
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01:50 pm
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PSA: Idea for a commercial
A woman runs into an elegant restaurant and shouts, "Please someone help! Are there any volunteers in the house?" She looks around frantically.
A woman at a table with her husband grabs her purse and stands up.
Her husband starts to protest but she says, "Honey, they need my help!"
For a second, he looks disappointed, then you watch the determination resolve on his face. He says, "You're right honey. Go. I'm right behind you."
She runs out of the building and meets up with the woman who ran into the restaurant, who grabs her arm and brings her to the street, where an enormous crowd of people of really vast stereotypical needs--moms with babies, sick and old, people in traditionally foreign garb, people with animals, and people carrying signs -- like a Verizon commercial for people in need.
The first woman says, "Please--these people need your help!"
Behind her, the husband comes out, and then everyone from the restaurant pours out, and each one of them is lead, or leads themselves to be paired off with a person in need. The camera pans back to show men and women all down the street running into restaurants and businesses, houses and even to people on the street and saying, "Help! We need volunteers! Can you help us?"
And as the camera pans further back, the back ground noise of people talking gets louder, and the problem crowd disperses and gets smaller.
Then the tag lines come up on the screen one by one, over the picture of the planet:
Can you hear them calling?
They need your help.
Are you a volunteer?
I wish I actually knew someone in Volunteers of America or someplace like that, that connects volunteers with people who need them so I could offer it free of charge. i think it's pretty good . . .
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09:20 pm
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The Universe Does My Bidding. . .
And like eBay, I overbid, underestimated the additional costs, and ended up with something I didn't ask for.
I have been complaining and complaining and complaining about my Family and Society teacher, Professor Gardner-Wesley since the first day of class--
She let us out early the first day, missed the second and third classes, immediately put us into debates that were supposed to last two days, but gave us one class we didn't have to attend to plan them, then they took six days to complete, and I am pretty sure gave us all A+. We had one whole day of watching COMPLETELY unrelated episodes of 20/20 (hermaphrodites defined by women with enlarged clitorises/Muslim women stoned to death for sex outside of marriage/elderly gays in old folks homes). Then we had one and a half lectures before the Midterm, which she neither wrote based on class, nor on lecture, nor on the readings, and ultimately didn't spell check either. The Midterm itself was another day out of class, and then she didn't come to the next two.
So I have been feeling like, you know, Hey, I PAY for these classes, you know? If she's not going to bother coming, and when she's here she's not going to bother teaching and when she DOES teach, I think she's ignorant, ill informed and a poor teacher. I was getting really angry! And my sister Jessie gave me some good advice--Complain after I get my easy A.
So I set in for the long haul. Six more weeks of school, and then Easy-A-a-go-go.
Today I got this email in my school email box:
To: All Participants
Class: I understand that you were upset when the TA announed to you that class again would not be held. I had hoped that for all of your dedication, a substitute would be in order. Last week was my grandbaby's funeral and I am mourning the loss of my granddaughter and simply am not effective. I have requested that you have another Instructor to complete the remainder of the semester. You will know as soon as I do. I will be in touch or in class on Thursday. Please understand my position as I certainly do understand each of yours and I am sorry for the inconsistenies at this time. Rest assured you are not forgotten by myself and Dr Aponte, Chair.
Professor Gardner-Wesley
I feel like such a heel.
I feel like I called down a good reason why she wouldn't be my teacher anymore.
She's a very nice person . . . just a very bad teacher. ten weeks in, six weeks to go, and we haven't done anything yet. But she didn't deserve anything like that.
It makes me feel sick inside.
Current Mood:  melancholy
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09:14 pm
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Pitch Pitch Pass.
I was very excited to be able to present my movie "I Hate That Guy" (as originally presented here!) to a professional in the industry as part of my Screenwriting class.
Title: I Hate That Guy
Tagline: There's One In Every Group
Logline: After 10 years separation, three underachievers reunite with the one successful classmate that they blame for their own failure. Now they have a new goal: Destroy Harvey Delaney.
His suggestions: What if Harvey was really a CIA agent, undercover pretending to be Harvey, and he has to recruit them to help unveil an evil scheme?
Uh . . . that's a great idea . . . for a whole different movie that doesn't actually have anything to do with the screwball comedy I had planned . . .
Current Mood: disappointed
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01:33 pm
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For UNOMESOWELL
I am posting this for my sister, who was put up some posts so endearing that I wanted to respond, and could think of nothing more clever than "Yay!"
So instead, I am continuing this meme, in her honor.
Gakked from The Great unomesowell...
01) Are you currently in a serious relationship? We had a wedding in January, so yep.
02) What was your dream growing up? I wanted to be a writer. I still want to be a writer when I grow up.
03) What talent do you wish you had? I wish I could run really fast.
04) If I bought you a drink what would it be? I would like you to buy me something really tall and cold looking. I think free food tastes better, and I am always thirsty.
05) Favorite vegetable? Tomatoes. I recently made guacamole that was 1 part avocado, 2 parts tomatoes.
06) What was the last book you read? I am re-reading John Saul’s Shadows, and JK Rowling’s Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire.
07) What zodiac sign are you? Capricorn, but I read Aquarius. I’m a cusp.
08) Any Tattoos and/or Piercings? Not until the perfect the licked-on-by-kittens technology. 09) Worst Habit? Eating for pleasure, pain, boredom, entertainment, reward and punishment.
10) If you saw me walking down the street would you offer me a ride? I don’t drive, and I am rarely in a car. However, if I was in a car, and I was driving and I saw you on the street, I would definitely pull over and talk to you and see if you looked like you wanted me to offer you a ride. 11) What is your favourite sport? I would like to think I would be better at team sorts now that I am brave. But I haven’t’ had to put this to the test yet. 12) Do you have a Pessimistic or Optimistic attitude? I want the great god Murphy and all his laws to believe I am a pessimist. But I am secretly a closet optimist. 13) What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator with me? Make fun of you for being afraid of being stuck in an elevator. 14) Worst thing to ever happen to you? Not really something we talk about on funny memes, don’t you agree?
15) Tell me one weird fact about you. My little dog’s full name is Mr. Dog Roland. His first name is Mr. 16) Do you have any pets? Two little dogs and one husband. 17) What if I showed up at your house unexpectedly? You would probably start baking…
18) What was your first impression of me? I met Jessie while we were still forming on a cellular level, and I can’t really remember what I had for breakfast, so I’m gonna pass on the walk down memory lane . . . 19) Do you think clowns are cute or scary? Does ANYONE think clowns are cute?
20) If you could change one thing about how you look, what would it be? I would lose some weight. Not like, down to skinny, but maybe down to hot-fat. 21) Would you be my crime partner or my conscience? I would so help you hide the body, and find us a better alibi. 22) What color eyes do you have? Same as mine. J 23) Ever been arrested? HA! Wouldn’t you like to know!
24) Bottle or can soda fizzy drink? Bottle for sure. I love to have a big drink, but I never finish them before they go flat.
25) If you won $10,000 today, what would you do with it? I owe like, $16,000 before I even start on the little debts . . .
26) What’s your favourite place to hang out at? The basement of Cavanaugh Hall, IUPUI campus, Indianapolis. I’m there now.
27) Do you believe in ghosts? Yes. Because Jessie does.
28) Favourite thing to do in your spare time? Play Bejeweled on Facebook. GODS how I wish this wasn’t true.
29) Do you swear a lot? I used to be a lot worse, but things have calmed down a lot.
30) Biggest pet peeve? Any eating sounds at all. I wish we all had to wear head masks while we so much as popped gum into our mouths.
31) In one word, how would you describe yourself? Ready
32) Do you believe/appreciate romance? Absolutely. I live to generate.
33) Favourite and least favourite food? I favorite a good raw steak, I least favorite turkey lunch meat.
34) Do you believe in God? Not any of them.
35) Will you repost this so I can fill it out and do the same for you? I did, but just for you, and no one else will care.
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11:07 am
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Recipe For A Tummy Ache: Why Didn't I Stop?
5 ripe avacados
2 1/2 lbs roma tomatoes
1 large yellow onion
salt and pepper
garlic powder
1 small bag white corn tortilla chips
Makes 2 servings. . . .
Wait, makes how many servings? Should anything you share with just ONE other person REALLY ever use the word "pounds"?
It was SO good.
I will gladly write ff the night of indigestion and tummy ache, remembering only how fun it was to gorge with Brian.
And that I lost five pounds somewhere between 5 in the evening, and Midnight.
So try talking me out of THAT . . .
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03:35 pm
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I <3 Chocolate with a deep and firey passion.
I almost regret writing this post, as no one will be able to take me seriously. I am to close to the parties involved, to close to the subject matter, and therefore beyond biased.
I freely admit that had the party been ho hum, I would still be writing a lovely cheerful review today--so it's no wonder you won't see the full impact of how my cup of joy over-flow-eth and makes a nasty stain on the carpet that will forever leave me with a little flutter of happiness that no one else will ever understand.
My dear friend Whryne has decided to become a Chocolatier for Dove Chocolates. Whryne doesn't do anything "just a little" and she took her new passion and ran with it. She started her little "company" just this month, and has already thrown three parties in three days, with two more already scheduled.
After the party at my house, every single person signed up to have a party of their own. I kid you not.
I should start with a little about how I feel about Home Parties and direct sales: I think they are stupid. I can't help it! I mean, I never ever understood why anyone would spend $70 for a basket that would advertise both the NFL and promote breast cancer awareness. I don't even need a single tiny basket, or a single NFL promotion in my house, but $70? That's preposterous. I feel the same about $40 cooking rocks. It's just not for me. They do, of course, have lingerie and sex toy parties, and I will attend these--but as a plus sized woman with a head on her shoulders, I am neither appropriately sized, nor inappropriately unaware of what else is on the market, so once again, I never buy from these parties.
In a recession, with no money, no prospects, and a long wait ahead of us, who can afford to pay extra for luxury items, am I right?
But then, they got me.
Chocolate.
I can't talk myself into a doctors appointment unless they PROMISE I will see a real doctor and he will have time to discuss real issues. I can't convince myself we need to replace our knives that have chips in them, if they still manage to slice (even if the bread gets squashed) because SOMEDAY things will be better, and SOMEDAY we can afford to replace them with NICE things.
But the longer I wait for SOMEDAY the more I want reassurance that TODAY isn't that bad.
So then, there is chocolate.
No matter how bad the financial crisis of the planet becomes, chocolate sales--especially PREMIUM chocolate sales--continue to soar. We want to feel spoiled just a little bit, and we want it to be personal.
Chocolate is like a back massage for the soul.
So when Whryne announces she is going to sell chocolate, and she is going to do it in house parties, I signed up.
And no regrets, it is HANDS DOWN the finest party I have ever thrown outside of my own wedding.
She has all the toys. And better still, you don't NEED all the toys. She talked and talked, chatting and telling us fascinating storoes about the history of Chocolate and Dove itself, while off handedly creating wonderful treats to pass around: mousses and coffees and chocolate dipped fruits and cookies and salty treats--it went on forever, and I was literally too full of chocolate by the end to actually take a single bite more. (And THAT after I skipped dinner before this party.)
Right in front of us-- laughing and answering questions the whole time, as if she and Julia Child and Betty Crocker all have the skill of multitasking while they create-- she whipped up this beautiful trifle of dark chocolate mousse, white chocolate cream, fudge brownies and fresh strawberries. I can't WAIT to get the pictures! And the best part? As party hostess, that trifle was just for me, and no one else. Everyone got a spoonful of mouse and cream, but I ate that whole trifle right in front of them, totally shameless. (I sneaky fed bites to Brian every time she looked away, but his little happy dance was probably a dead giveaway.)
It was literally some of the best deserts I have ever had. I was prepared for it to taste good--I mean, Chocolate is chocolate, it tastes GOOD. But this was like . . it's so smooth, and creamy. She was explaining the difference between "Chocolate" made with cocoa butter and "Chocolate Candy" which is made with vegetable oil. I looked it up--Hershey's is always vegetable oil, and that's why it separates when it melts. This stuff . . . this stuff was the difference between the guys I dated and thought I loved, and the guy I dated and knew I would have to marry by the third date. It was just . ..obvious. This is the way it was supposed to be all along.
Needless to say, I bought a ton of stuff. ANd my guests all bought a ton of stuff. And by the end, we had all bought so much taht the company is going to send me a free half pound of just chocolate, and that's quite alright with me too.
I have big plans: I intend to whip up some of those trifles that she made right in front of me like it was easy as anything.
If I get pretty disposable glasses from the dollar store, and buy fresh fruit (I dont' care if it's bananas, anything would taste good this way) then I am going to carefully read the nutrition information, and layer JUST enough mouse and cream and fruit that my little single servings have less than 216 calories (or the calories in two toll house cookies.) Then I am going to make a tray of them and bring them to the holiday party on my Dad's side of the family. My Grandpa has diabetes, but LOVES sweets, so if I stack the deck with fruit, but flourish with outstanding mousse and decadent white chocolate cream, then he will choose mine as the one dessert he's allowed per day. It might be a handful of dessert, but I would choose it over some of my more famous family staples any day--it was just THAT good.
I can't WAIT to talk to my sister--I just KNOW she is going to want to do this at her house too. It was more fun with chocolate than I have ever had. (And let me tell you, I have done some pretty daring things with chocolate, even by my own standards.)
As soon as I get pictures, I will post them, because it was just one heck of a great party.
I'm so proud of Whryne--this is going to be a lot of fun for her, and uber profitable--
I had thought "Who would buy chocolate door to door?" But now I think "Who would buy that gross Walgreen's chocolate if they knew this was out there?"
I'm so glad we did it at our house before any of my other friends got the chance--and I am thrilled about all the people who came. Better yet, I KNOW they will invite me to theirs, so there will be more chocolate in my future.
I'm not shy about buying chocolate when I think I deserve it. But this was a revelation. Now, I won't be shy about taking credit for serving chocolate as if I invented the stuff, because NO ONE will have had anything as good as what I will have to offer, and that's just the truth. The truth just is.
Current Mood:  giddy
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04:35 pm
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Smeagol!
I completely believe I saw Smeagol's Mommy on the way home from school today.
She was no taller than Mr. Roland, but all white, with one black eye, and one black ear, just like Smeagol's.
But she LOOKED like Smeagol. Smaller, thinner, but she was even wheexing just like him! It was dead on for a little girl version of Smeagol! Suck out all the Rat terrier, and there she was in the flesh!
I was so charmed. She was in a car, and I was on the bus, but if we could only have met, and talked!
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10:38 am
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King's Island Or Bust
We went to King's Island yesterday, with Brian's kids, because RCI generously rented out the park for a company picnic.
I got a lot of sun, and a lot of excercise, to everyone had a great time, to ( to tell you the truth. . . )
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10:14 am
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Review: Chegg.com 1st time experience * * * * *
I am an undergraduate in my Senior year at IUPUI, in Indianapolis, IN. Our college bookstore is actually a Brnes and Noble, and the mark up on even used books is overwhelming.
My first thought was to find my textbooks as e-books. E-books have never been so useful as when applied to the textbook field: When taking notes, I can actually cut and paste whole paragraphs, or simple phrases, or lists of names and dates, right out of the text, and compile huge, easy to use notes for class. When I need to look something up, I can actually just use the Find feature available with any text, and I can highlight right on the manual, without it effecting my "sell back" value at all--because the book is so often FREE.
While I still HIGHLY recommend that option, unless you are in some pretty interesting fields of study, you will find that most actual textbooks are not yet e-book compatible, and the ones that are aren't free yet. (although actual kindle users might find themselves much better equipped than I was.)
So I needed something that would give me a healthy savings, but be available where e-books were not.
I started searching, and found the wide world of rented school books. Better than Amazon, or eBay for discounts, I assure you. Book rental companies can tell you what editions they have, and probably have more than one, so you won't have to just settle for what they have that's close.
My favorite, the one I chose to use, and what has by far given me more bang for my buck than I ever expected, has to be Chegg.com.
Chegg.com had all but one of my school books. (And the one they didn't ahve was an IUPUI exclusive, published just for them, and it turns out, never available for resale anyway.) I simultaneously gave the Barnes and Noble Website, and the the Chegg.com website my orders, and the shopping cart results were OUTSTANDING.
According to Barnes and Noble.com, the price of one screenwriting manual, two Sociology texts on the family, one erudite manual on the history of television, a job searching guide, and a oxford guide to research, IF they had all of my texts used, and BEFORE I paid for available shipping, was going to run $638.92. If they had to take a new book, the price would mark up dramatically, and if they had sold out and had to send away for another copy, I was going to be charged a "nominal" administrative fee, and expect a two week delay.
According to Chegg.com, I would pay $213.14, that would include shipping to me within five days which I paid an extra $5 to have done as school was coming up really soon), and free return shipping at the end of the semester. They would send me the newest manuals they had, and if I found it was "too used" I could return it within 30 days for a free exchange -- or if I don't need it after all, the buy back is for 100% in the first 30 days. When they discovered they didn't have in stock two of the books I needed, they bought-- brand new, and free of additional fees--those two books off of Amazon--automatically, and had them shipped directly on the same day, and with the same 5 day guarantee that I had on the ones sent from the Chegg warehouse.
On top of that, they offered to plant a tree for each book I "recycled" by being willing to rent instead of purchase new. And, as a new customer, I could have one of those trees planted in a friend's name, and tell them I had done so. (Happy tree Jessie!)
I keep the box to send them back in, and they send me a reminder at the end of the semester on where to get my UPS label printed, so the shipping won't cost me anything additional. There are additional prices if I would like to keep the books for another semester, or forever, and if I bu any books that ARE NOT Cheggs, they will gladly make a bid on buying them from me.
I did end up buying that one IUPUI exclusive from Barnes and Noble. It's a 300 page Spanish for beginners manual, shrink wrapped to an English-to-Spanish dictionary. It cost $130, because they don't sell them used. And it includes a handy little sticker int he front right corner that reads "Unavailable for buy back if shrink wrap is opened". I spent almost half of what I spent on six books with Chegg.com, to buy one book from B&N that I can't sel back.
Now granted, there is no "buy back" with Chegg, unless I buy the manuals and then sell them back.
But last semester, I spent about $600 on books for school. And I sold them back at the end of the semester. I got $140, and had to recycle two books which had been discontinued. That means I still spent twice as much on books. I would way rather spend 50% less, then get my pitance at the end of the semester (even if I do pretend that is "free money".)
All in all, I am LOVING Chegg.com.
I HAD written to complain to them. I wrote an email to customer service, because they had guaranteed me shipping in the five day window, and though I had gotten my first four books in the first three days (all in one box) I hadn't gotten the second two books. The website said they had been shipped, and that they had arrived. UPS had left a note on my door, and the apartment complex had the box int he ofice when I got home, so that accounted for the first four, but where were the last two?
Chegg respneded immediately with a form letter, and I admit, I got nervous. But withn two hours, I got a letter from a customer service rep, saying they had delivered the package, and copying me on the list of everywhere the package had been, and signed for, from Amazon (because it turns out they were brand new books, Chegg no longer had in stock, and they didn't worry me with details like which warehouse they were shipping from or thoughts that it might be late) through Louisville, KY, my local post office, and then finally the lobby of my apartment complex. They said that if I still didn't have the package it was a UPS problem, and I could call UPS, or call Chegg, and they would get me in a three way call with UPS to report the package stolen.
I marched right downstairs and cofronted the (idiot) woman in my apartment complex, who assured me that Yes, there was a package with my name on it, and Yes, it had been delivered THE SAME DAY as the other one from UPS, but that it had come from a different handler, so no one thought to put a note on my door I guess. Sh had even wondered why I let my package stay there for more than a week. Sheesh.
So even when I THOUGHT there would be a crisis, Chegg handled it with aplomb, was in no way responsible, and handled my fears with care and concern.
I am really looking forward to using them in my last semester, as all I have left are non-program related classes, and there is little chance I would want to keep my books. However, since these books are availabel for purchase at such a phenomenally lower price than what I would pay at school, I could certainly change my mind without too much hardship.
It was a truly excellent find, and I highly recommend them to anyone who is looking to save some money (or at least save the planet--renting books means no more demand for new prints, and tehy even plant a tree for each book!) They were accurate, speedy, and my books are in magnificent condition--only one of them "looks" used, and even that only has margin notes.
It was a risk, moving outside the prescribed path of my school, and it paid off magnificently. I have told all of my classmates about my experience, and I will continue to tout the glory of buying books AND groceries with my student loan check. Could it get any better than that?
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07:22 am
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Synced: Television Treatment/Unedittted for safety purposes
*I'm sorry this is uneditted, but I am basically chiselling it into stone by hand. I will edit it as soon as I get my laptop back from the shop, I PROMISE.*
I had one of those outrageously realistic dreams--not one I was in mind you, but the kind that feels like I am watching television, and I can't wait to see the next episode, and find myself very disappointed when I wake up and realize there won't even be re-runs. SO once again, I am writing down everything I know, and I will keep this treatment for some day when I can do something with it.
The show is (in my head) called Synced. It stars, amongst other people, less famous than he is, Alan Rickman.
The show begins like this: In the not so distant future, a secret army base is set up around two men the government would very much like to utilize for military purposes. After 3 years of studying their talents, however, no useful military purpose has been found for their skills, and the funding has run out. So now, out in the middle of no where (somewhere cold, and not at all inhabited, like a cold desert) lies rows and rows of abandoned barracks, a few specialized research facilities, and a training grounds, where nly these two very special men, and a handful of scientists who have been left with this asignment as a sort of punishment, who will be the only witnesses when the project finally comes to some sort of fruition.
One of the men is a serial killer. He's very lithe, with long curly hair (like a British verion of Gaius Baltar from Batalstar Galactica), who went on a killing spree and successfully 13 people--men, women, and children, of varying ages and races, making his patterns and plans nearly impossible to detect. He wrote letters to the press telling everyone when and where he would kill his next victim, taking them from public places, and slitting their throats, leaving their bodies only feet from where they were taken, always completely undetected. He was caught stalking his 14th victim, who to this day he claims he had no interest in killing at all, but only meant to study what he calls "another Real Person", claiming that he is innocent of any crimes, because he did not kill anyone real. He was institutionalized for schizophrenia, but the facility proved incapable of holding him, and his narrow escape attempts were only finally thwarted by an armed guard stationed outside his own door, who's specific instructions were to "think of nothing but him", changing shifts every three hours, in a mximum security prison, where he was to get specialized care for his "delusions". The public outcry for his blood diminished almost instantly after his arrest, and his hearings were barely attended, even by the press. The man seemed to be completely forgettable--except to his last victim.
The second man is his 14th victim, or the only survivor of his attentions. He is a scholar, specializing in historically used Military codes and code breaking. He has no idea why he was stalked, or even how the first man came to become aware of him, as until he was taken to this facility, he was nearly a recluse, often not seen more than a single block from his own home. He did not forget the stalking, or his stalker, and followed closely his arrest, his trial, and continuously visited him in prison.
The day of the "attack" was the reason the military had taken them away from their less than ordinary lives, and confined them to this base. When the stalker finally made the approach to speak to the scholar, after weeks of careful planning and studying, he got within one foot of his victim, totally unsuspected as he had been with all of his previous victims. But when he was within one foot of the man, the scholar turned around, and the two of them were transported to an alcove/alleyway, off the main thoroughfair of a busy London street, in 1987.
No one--not the police, not the judge, not the jury, believed that story.The scholar was never put on the stand, the prosecutor beliving he was an unreliable witness, and simply told the jury that the attack was so horrifying that his last victim was still unable to recall any "meaningful information". But the two of them were aware that something extraordinary had happened. They had only been transported back to the scene of the attack, minutes later, when they tried to approach each other again in historic London.
Since then, thanks to military tests, they know that whenever they stand a foot apart, in a straight line, they will be automatically transported back to that very space in time. Over and over again, they transported back, always to see the same faces, the same busy street action. They were capable of carrying small items about their persons, but never more than they could carry, and so far, no people--not from their own time, and not from 1987. The military had created dossiers on each and every person who appears within a 24 hour period of that very specific day, but only within the boundaries of what each man could walk in any direction, as they seemed unable to create an effect on the past. (Not in a ghostly memory way. If they shove someone, the person becomes agitated, shouts, and then seems to get on with life a little quicker than usual, as if the incident is already behind them.) The military chose drastic measures, allowing the killer to attack (but not kill) one of the innocent past, and research shows that the statitics of violence do go up in the area, but no formal charges are ever filed against anyone, and no mention of it ever appears in the papers. And going back in time after that immediately re-writes history.
Now, after 3 years on the project,and almost no one paying any attention at all, the scientists on base behaving as if they were given wide berth and sparse funding for their own work, and often forgetting these two men even reside here, a discovery has been made that changes everything. The killer suggests a day in London to take in a movie--going to the past for nothing more than an escape from the mundane routine of thier unofficial imprisonment. The reluctant scholar agrees, on the terms that they no longer attempt to change or effect history in any way. So they transport back, with no one on base even the least bit interested, and head downt he familiar path to the movie theatre, where they sit to take in some classic 80's hit. When they come out, the killer notices someone that upends their plans and scatters the illusion that none of this has any purpose. The killer sees what he describes as a "Real PErson", here, in 1987. It's Alan Rickman, and we get to see him throught he killers eyes: it turns out that the whole world is sort of a mundane, grimy shade of nonexsistance to him. Like background noise, the world holds no importance. People ignore his prgoress as easily and specifically as he has come to disregard them. When he looks at himself, or the Scholar, or now Alan Rickman, he sees full color, glorious life, streaming out of these men. They are as "Real" in the world as he is. And though people seem to arbitrarily ignore them the same as they do him, they glow with vitality for him, and he is drawn to their presence. He had long ago developed the sopholistic idea that he was the only Real PErson in the world, and that only he had the power to change the mundanes, that they only serve as background for him to work his craft against, and he had found them unworthy. But now, it seems, that there are more than just himself and the Scholar in the world, and he believes that Alan Rickman is why they have been coming back to 1987 in the first place.
Alan Rickman, unaware of the attention he has suddenly garnered, is going about this day as he has the thousands of other times he was not visited by the scholar and the killer. He is outside his brownstone walk up, walking a crosseyed weiner dog. The dog has slight dent in his head, and a list to his walk, that quickly shows us that the dog is in fact brain damaged. Alan Rickman is the author of many, many textbooks: specifically, his agent thinks he has a talent for writing, because he can write at a 9th grade level, about maths as advanced as Quantum Physics. So he makes his living writing simple to read math texts, with the subtle ability to be talking down to the reader as if only an ignoramous would have to learn more about Trigonometry, or areospace dymnamics, and yet always leave the reader better educated (if slightly more insulted) than he began.
After many many visits, and much contact with Rickman, the scholar and the killer approach Rickman, as if for the first time (because everytime the visit, it re-writes history, adn they must introduce themselves again. It is Rickman who gives them the final piece of the puzzle, and speaking with the scholar, they crack the puzzle of Why Him and Why Now: These two men, in conjunction, do not hold the ability to travel back and forth in time. They are, in fact, a single key, as if a button to punch, on the telephone, that send them to The Operator, the one who can help them decipher the other keys necessary to travel more broadly. Alan Rickman, however, is not a key. A key is a combination of people, the way a letter is a combination of several lines, and much like the Scholar and the killer created a key, they needed to find another "Real Person" using the killers spcial ability to seem them clearly, and the combination of those things would set "something" in motion. So on a last visit, without introducing themselves to Rickman, they take him by force, and bring him, and his dog, to a nearby park, where they meet a mousy looking woman, also waling a dog (a beagle this time). They deposit Rickman and his dog a foot apart,a nd step away quickly, taking their places next to them, also a foot apart. Nothing happens, and the two assaulted, disgruntled strangers (Rickman and the woman) angrily turn to them, and they move forward. This is when the Scholar sees the code, still bizarre,a dn unformed, as if the whole world was a grid, like a giant sudoku puzzle. HE and the Killer step forward and to the left one foot, adn the woman's little dog, angrily barking, moves ahead, in line with his mistress, as Rickman's dog is with Rickman. And the whole lot are transported back to the "present" and the military base.
Their is much confusion, and a lot of shouting, but when scientists come to investigate the development,the scholar and the killer, acting shifty and easily seen through, convince the scinetists that their is nothing new under the sun, simply by waiting out their limited interest in people who it is becoming obvious to them now, are not "Real" to the rest of the world. They explain about what has happened at the military base, how they all came to be here, and what Rickman (who cannot of course, remember anything,s ince it now does not exsist) explained the concept of dialing the past on agiant phone made of people keys. And then they show them that the two men make one key, and they disappear, and then come back, minutes later, and then show them how Rickman, the woman, and both dogs, appear to be the second key, although they pop into their own lies, and pop back out again.
Each of these people will turn out to have a secret or special talent--some of them quite obvious, some of them useless in the real world, that helps lead them to more and more people throughout time and all over the world, who form the grid pattern the scholar can see, forming different keys, and the sequence those keys are pressed in, leading them to new keys. They are never able to move into the future, and their running theory is that the right sequence of numbers will in fact send them there. Not everyone is able to move back and forth to their own time--some people are automatically stuck here,a s if they had a one time use number. Others will see many foreign lands, but never be able to specificlaly return to their own homes or times. And like the Scholar and the killer, many will see they have different places to travel, in conjunction with different people. But always, it will feel as if there is "one" or a "right" connection to make, that is the place they are "supposed to go to" until they have found the perosn there they should be seeking. Almost always, the killer must travel with them, though hving spent so much time in an institution, and with the idea that the rest of the world only exsists to entertain him, he makes many of the others very uncomfortable. Any mission without the Killer, or Alan Rickman, who has the ability to see the shape of keys , is a fully functioning idea, but a harder mission. Not everyone is just taken, some are coerced, some are looking for escape, but all seek the solution (or at least begin to admit the reality) that the real world doesn't seem to see them, that they have always faded into the background, and even that people are prone to walking right into them, rather than step out of the way. They are a very low social skilled group, and the life in the barracks doesn't get easier the more of them they collect.
If I could get this on the air, the over reaching story arks would be one of moving forward in time, and from the past (emotionally and in reality) to find a world that sees and acknowldges them for their special talents (limited to themselves though they may be) and discovering what it is that they were being collected for. The constant fear is that it's for military purposes, but as the military is just as effected by the Non-Effect as everyone else, it seems unlikely. The killer thinks they will rule the world, the scholar thinks they will prevent a disaster, Alan Rickman thinks they will simply find that there are patterns in all things--but that doesn't actually mean there is a purpose to the patterns, simply that nature always makes patterns--they are easier to replicate than chaos. The mousy young woman will learn to think of herslef as real, and hope that somehow, they were simply taken from "their real time" and that's why they never fit in the past, adn that there will come a time where thy just walk the streets again, if they only wait for time to catch up to them. Real depth of character, lots of introspction, and discusion about hwo we relate int he world, and how even those people who don't have these gifts or abilities feel out of step, and neglected by the busy world around them.
I know, it's a little Sliders,a dn a littel Dr. Who, and a little Lost, but that's not all bad--I like all those shows. :) And it was really exciting to watch in my head, so I can see how I would watch if it was playing. But that's just my opinion.
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12:21 pm
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Looking for Zombies!
They are desperate for zombies! 8 Wheels of Death is filming it's big zombie scene this sunday and they are looking for more people to play Zombies!
Brian and I are cast as Freak Couple: the nacho eating angry types who casually observe the eating of their fellow audience members until they are turned themselves--but they take this in stride as well.
Dakota (Brian's youngest son) is going to be part of the Zombie Resistance Force!
and Cyrena (Brian's daughter) will be playing the Emo Ticket Taker Girl.
If you wnat to be Zombied up, and see yourself in the movies (or want to participate but are too afraid, and would like to mingle casually next to a film session) let us know, and we could maybe even set up carpool!
Oh this has been such a fun expereince, I highly recommend anyone who wants to to come and join us!
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10:18 am
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I got sick four times, but I touched Ron Weasley's bed!
Thanks in complete and total part to Keith, who generously provided the funding in spite of his decision not to go, I was able to take Brian, my sister Jessie, and all three of her children to the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago for Harry Potter The Exhibition.
Brian and I arrived in Chicago, just about the time we were supposed to start meeting Jessie and her caravan. But her in-laws were in the second van, coming from St. Louis, and they opted to stop for a meal in China Town. So Brian and I fought our way through Chicago traffic to the museum, and decided we were allowed to explore and eat there, in anticipation of Jessie showing up before ticket time.
The drive down takes almost four hours (when you include stops and smoke breaks) and we had taken our time to be sure. Sadly, our air conditioning isn't working right now, and the temperatures were well into the 90's.
( *ding* This is a side bar about the first time I got sick. )
While I was out of commission in the little girl’s room, Brian took pictures of the posters, and the cardboard advertisements, and the Ford Anglia they had set up outside of the ticket area. We (thankfully) had already bought our tickets online, because that line was HUGE. So we went upstairs to have some lunch and drink a lot of beverages so that when Jessie (who was by now on her way) showed up we could see the museum and get to the exhibit. All of the lunch lines were enormous, so we picked the deli line, which seemed shorter (not thinking about how that was because they have to assemble your sandwiches, which means it takes the longest, even when the line is the shortest. ) It took forever, and we had to just choose the easiest route of movement if we were going to eat before Jessie and the kids got here, which meant I got a premade sandwich anyway (which I then realized I could have done, and paid for and eaten by the time Brian’s sandwich was made) and some green tea with citrus, coleslaw and brownie parfait to split, and then another treacherous line, and finally some seats (where we got a wide berth, because Brian and I have purple and pink hair respectively, and we still stand out in a crowd.) Just as we start eating, we hear from Jessie that she is going to be with us soon, so we inhale our food, and rush to meet her. But it turned out she entered through a different side of the building, and spent an additional 15 minutes, convincing her smart, funny and gifted children that just because we were in a museum, and just because it was entirely devoted to science and technology, and just because we were going through the wing entirely devoted to SPACE didn’t mean they were allowed to stop and look at anything! There was Harry Potter to attend to! So by the time we had eaten, and she had pry barred her children off of the space shuttle, and we all met one floor above the Ford Anglia that I so much wanted her to see, we realize we only have ten minutes until show time, and we had to make a mad dash for the exhibit instead. All of the attendants there speak in bad English accents. *Squee!* And they all wear charming Potter-esque outfits. *Squee!* And the nice lady who came around to check our tickets high fived me for saying I was in Slytherin, and called my sister’s kids “Gryffindorks”. *Squee!* My nephew claimed he couldn’t be a Gryffindorks; he was going to be in Hufflepuff and then asked her if she would like to chest bump him. ROFL. When they started asking trivia questions to stall us, all three of my kids got all the questions right, and even Brian started getting some. Sydney Li got the first one though, and was rewarded with stickers. And then we were off! It is in this really cool outdoor tent which after just one short trip through canvas walls, you completely forget because the whole thing is deliciously air conditioned and dark and cozy. ( *ding* This si sa side bar about the second time I got sick. ) They took us into a well covered, and fabric swathed room, where a woman in robes sorted a few children with the Sorting Hat. My nephew Thomas was the first chosen! I was so excited! And when she asked where he would like to be sorted, he said Ravenclaw! I squealed at Brian, “Yay! It’s because he’s in the gifted classes! He knows it’s cool to be smart!” And the dipshit next to me is complaining, “Who wants to be in Ravenclaw? What kind of kid is that?” But he got sorted into Ravenclaw and he was all delighted. He immediately ran back to see if I had seen it, and we not only high fived, but we had to immediately chest bump the Ravenclaw goodness to show house pride. *Squee* The idiot next to me got to be the grown up sorted, and I was all jealous. He wanted to be In Slytherin, because, he said, they were the bad guys. (boo!) And the tour guide did a great act of being scared of him and afraid to put the hat on him, and the kids all cackled and laughed. Then we finally got sent into the next room. The first room inside the exhibit has flat screens framed like portraits, which show a musical montage of the movies, and finally end with it looking like you are on a speeding train, headed towards Hogwarts, where when you depart, the wall on the right lifts right into the ceiling, and we get to enter a hall of portraits that talk and comment on the crowd. It leads you to the Hogwarts Express, which really puffs steam and chugs. *Squee!* Then the second hall of portraits and the Fat Lady’s big singing scene for her portrait door , which though you completely have the option of going around, there was a lovely line all formed because no one wanted to miss a single minute, and everyone went through the portrait door instead This leads to a large room, filled with individual dioramas with excellent draperies right from the sets, outfits on actual sized clothes dummies, and all the furniture they can travel with. I was so surprised at how tiny they all were! The outfits are so SMALL. I mean, I know they are children, but I was surprised by just how tiny of children—even Ron was a shorty! But my kids kept laughing and pointing out just how giant the boys’ shoes were. Each kid had a trunk full of possessions, and my kids are really great at naming everything—we didn’t need the flat screens to show us scenes from the movies at all. We totally got it and we were super proud. When we got to the Gryffindor boys dorms, I was threatening to heave my tiny niece Sydney right over the velvet rope and let her snatch the Weasley sweater and make a run for it. When she wouldn’t do it, I said, “Ok then, I’ll have to take matters in my own hands.” And I reached over, and touched the bed. There was a clear sign stating, Do Not Touch and there were security guards right next to me, but the look of shock and horror on her face was totally priceless00it would have even been worth being thrown out over, frankly. Instead, she scolded me strongly, and warned me not to do it again. I said, “Sydney Li, my hand touched Ron Weasley’s bed. Do you want to touch The Hand?” She was furious. She got all huffy, and tried to play it off like a joke, but she totally grabbed my hand, and sort of put it to her face for a second before blushing and turning to the next room. I saw so many beautiful things, and I threw a real quaffle through a goal, and sat in Hagrid’s chair, and just really enjoyed how amazing it felt to be in this sacred space. ( *ding* This is continuing drama about my illness. ) I took Brian back with me, and went to see what I had missed: the wonderful ghostly apparition of the Death’s Head in the sky, the teacher’s costumes (of which I am going to have to do my damnedest to get Jessie an Umbridge like suit for when she completes her teaching degree!) and the spooky room of evil. We were reading all of the Educational decrees when one of the tour guides pointed out something funny: The fine print on the decrees say, “Blah blah blah bl ahbla hbla h blah blah” etc. ( *ding* This is a side bar with continuing drama about the third time I got sick. )We had to rush through the Great Hall, stopping only to admire how much detail went into the candy boxes, and the wonderful chocolate top hat with chocolate bunny hopping out of it. I could see that they had all the beautiful dress robes out, and that Fawkes was there, and how amazingly detailed everything was—but I had to go. I pushed my way through the gift shop, only stopping long enough to remind sister and husband that I didn’t need anything, that they do not need to comfort me with gifts, that they had no money, and that I wanted them to stay as long as they could, just to enjoy it for all it was worth. ( *ding* This is a side bar about the third time I got sick. )I met Brian outside the Exhibit, and we walked down towards the main entrance of the museum, where we accidentally ran into Jessie and her kids, who had gotten advice on a better way to go through the museum to get to our car. So we all trudged out, once again drooling over the awesomeness of the museum which we were to remain deprived of seeing. Everyone was carrying parcels from the gift shop! Jessie bought me the Slytherin knit cap! Brian bought me the matching scarf! And a Marauder’s Map Coffee mug! (Which so far has not revealed the map at all, and I wonder if I am supposed to tap it with my wand first or what . . .) For herself, Jessie bought the travel mug, for drinking water at school. ViVi got the Divination kit with crystal ball, Sydney got the Build Your Own Hogwarts kit, and Thomas got the strap on Mad Eye Moody magical eye. We walked them to the car, and then Brian loaded every single Harry Potter game I own into their car. We are going to move next May, and we had to make room for roommates this year. So I volunteered to keep all of my games (of which I owned two giant plastic tubs, two garbage bags, a giant stack and a grocery bag) at Jessie’s house, as she has three different Harry Potter birthdays, a Harry Potter college graduation, and a Death Day party to throw in the next two years. I have been feeling so guilty about how often these games go unplayed, and how much dust they collect, so we agreed that it’s MY collection, and she is both allowed to play with it and take care of it for me, until I can re-collect it. It’s the right thing to do, but I feel guilty about it on some levels, relieved on others. So it all plays out well enough. And she was so happy she was near tears. Her kids were ecstatic. I blew the girls kisses through the window, and chest bumped the side of the mini van Thomas was on so he nearly fell out of his chair laughing. All in all it ended on a good note, and we all made our way out of Chicago happy enough. The ride home was rough. We got drinks and hit the highway. I dozed off a little, because I was exhausted. But I woke up when we stopped at Lion’s Den: Adult Bookstore and Truck Stop. Hee! We looked and looked, but Brian didn’t find any souvenirs he wanted (after not getting anything Harry Potter It seemed like the right thing to do.) Instead we spent the whole next half of the drive talking about when we could come back to Chicago and really see the museum, and the Sear’s tower and any other cool Chicago tourist attractions I have never seen but he has and wanted to share with me. We stopped in Rennsalear to see Chris My Finder and let him show off the cool new Hot Dog shop he and his friends Chris Chris and Chris had opened, and then go to an Arni’s for dinner. They forgot my order, brought it only when everyone else was finished eating, and unexpected stuffed their lasagna with green peppers which make me tragically ill and are not food. ( *ding* This is a side bar about the fourth time I got sick. ) I wish we could go three more times, just so we could make sure we had memorized everything with our eyeballs. Jessie was worried that we had to rush out because of her, but I think we all know the answer to that: I said, “Show of hands, who would have driven all the way to Chicago just to run as fast as they can through the Harry Potter Exhibit only looking left and right while they run and STILL think it was totally worth it?” And all six of us raised our hands. Mischief Managed.
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02:54 pm
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Loss and Gain!
Brian and I have been having a hard month. We are behind on our rent, and the roommate search has been utterly fruitless.
Thursday we made EVERYTHING BETTER. He took off form work, and we cleaned the whole house, top to bottom, and rearranged all of the furniture so we have a lovely furnished room to offer a new roommate. We had settled on putting most of our clothing into well organized totes, but it was so completely off the floor and out of the laundry baskets taht we couldn't help but be happy!
And then today? Today was totally like a hot dog (awesome that is.) Today, our poor across the hall neighbors let us know that they are moving to Houston (read being evicted for unpaid rent) and that it was more affordable to buy all new there than it was to ship it all down (read living with parents.)
And they asked us if we would like any of their furniture.
SQUEE!
So now our living room has a beautiful three piece sectional (all recliners) of burgundy leather, with a matching Man-cliner (instead of the gray couch I inherited from Marshal and Emily to sleep on after the fire). Plus, a lovely armchair of giraffe printed corduroy. We have a modern new computer desk of black metal, with matching roller printer stand and leather office chair (instead of the folding table with table cloth and kitchen chair we have been using.) The bedroom gets a complete matching set of long dresser, tall dresser and four poster bed. Plus, we got a blond wood skinny kitchen table with matching chairs.
We had enough furniture after that of our own to fully furnish BOTH spare bedrooms in a very fashionable and useful way! And still put a much needed dresser in the kids room/laundry room!
And now I am off to freecycle! We have a spare couch (the gray one only iwth burgundy couch cushions now) a giant mirror (which I would love to hang, but will never get around to) a single bed sized futon with ugly stained cover but soft squishy pad, the magnificent box springs for under a california king sized mattress (but no mattress) with modern head board, five kitchen chairs, a gray office chair that works great, but isn't pretty anymore, a nautical style stained glass lamp, a aberciser (whatever the hell that is) and a square country game table with drawers! I figure, someone passed on so much niceness to me, maybe we can make someone will benefit from our trickle down effect.
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08:58 am
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Safe Driver/Sex talk: A Metaphor for young adults
This is just practice, I haven't actually even re-read this yet. I had a bad night's sleep and I am going back to bed now, but I wanted to write this little metaphor down before I forgot it.
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When we give our children, husband's. loved ones and friends the keys to the car, a kiss ont he cheek and the reminder to "Drive safe honey!" we are always ready with the addendum that it isn't THEM we are worried about, it's everyone else.
"I know you are a good driver--it's everyone else I am worried about!" We watch them drive away, and hope that all will be well with the world when they return. But if we could, we would put barriers between us and the rest of the world. We would separate our own from those on the street that look dangerous, or who might cause do them harm. We would do the same for ourselves: we "know" we can protect ourselves, but what about other people we can't control?
What about the ones we can't just look at and "tell". It's not the beater with dozens of dents and a driver who swerves back and forth across the street you have to worry about--because you can "tell" he's a problem--you avoid him, get off the road, or put enough cars between you and him that you feel as if he can't reach you. But if the woman in the nice suit, and the car you can't afford, is having a problem, you wouldn't know it by looking at her. If her car is clean and shiny, if there aren't bumper stickers that say, "Will break your face before I yeild to traffic" you might not give her a second glance. And if she's an alcoholic, who had to start her morning off with a few drinks just to get right, you won't know it until she comes plowing into you, ending your life in an instant.
And that's what sex is like. You would gladly get into the driver's seat with the one you chose to date. You might even use your own criteria for choosing a stranger you can trust enough to drive. Hell, call a cab even. But can you really trust EVERYONE on that road?
Fortunately for you, sex is better than driving. And it's easier too (since no one will make you get a license.) And you have the ability to put up an enormous barrier between you and the thousands of other drivers on the road. You have the glorious right to ask questions: something you can't do with all the drivers on the road. But you only have to ask one person, right now, and that person can save you from everyone else out there with just two questions: When was the last time you were tested and would you like to go get tested with me before we have sex? With the right answers you can know if he's ever been in a little fender bender, or if he's an alcoholic that's taken the lives of others. With the answers to that test, you can safely climb into his car--and it's up to decide if he's a careful safe driver from then on, or everyone's favorite ride. With a condom in your hand, and test results in your pocket, you can say without a doubt that you have safely, sanely, wisely put on your seatbelt, looked both ways, and carefully pulled out into traffic.
Because if your partner isn't willing to show you his driving record, it's the same as admitting that there have been a few drivers he bumped into that weren't the reliable sort. That maybe a partner or two of his wasn't someone you would climb into bed with yourself. And that's a valid fear: everyone has a crazy ex at some stage--and every new partner has a crazy ex in their past (and they would love to tell you all about it) and those ex's have crazy ex's and those ex's have crazy ex's and you REALLY don't want to drive in a world filled with other people's crazy ex's right?
So the smart thing to do is to take your life in your own hands. Ask questions. Take precautions. Look both ways, and use your signals. And when traffic looks heavy, and you aren't sure you are ready to merge, use your GPS and look for an alternative path, for the road less traveled.
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10:01 am
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I had a Poly Nightmare.
This one is right up there with my dreams of pregnancy and responsibility for children, so you've heard it all before. But it's very short, so bear with me.
I dreampt that I woke up. I woke up on the couch in the middle of a barren, but very familiar living room. I could see my bokshelves, just the way I like them shelved, creating a wall between the hallway and kitchen, and the livingroom I was in. The living room was stacked with luggage, parcels, and plastic bags. My very first thought was, "I don't know where I am, so this much be a dream." But when I looked into the undecorated, and wide but clean, and totally well lit kitchen, Brian (with a very short haircut, but red hair again) was cooking what looked like fried eggs. I shouted to him, across the bookshelves, very tired, and super whiny, "Brian, I don't know what's going on." And he slammed the pan down and said, "Again?" but he didn't sound surprised at all, just frustrated." He shouted back, "We don't have time for this Erica. Just do the best you can for now, and it'll all come back." I got up off the couch, which when I looked back, didn't have any legs anymore,a nd was super low to the ground for no good reason. It was my couch, but it was so much older, and more worn out. We think it's too worn out NOW, so seeing it in that condition, with no legs was kind of jolting, like I had lost time.
I walked toward Brian, into the kitchen, but he was already gone, and a little curly redheaded woman was sitting at the table in the middle of the room. She smiled at me, and reached up to touch me standing behind her, but when her hand touched me I said, "I don't know where I am." and she frowned and took her hand back. She didn't say anything, but she looked at the doorway leading out of the kitchen, so I went that way looking for Brian.
All along the way, I saw children. I saw a set of curly redheaded twins, and a very small girl of around six, and a couple of maybe ten year olds, I couldn't tell if they were boys or girls. But I made my way toward a large Master bedroom, and found two big beds, pushed togethere, on the floor with no furniture, except a large dresser. None of the drawers were in, none of the beds were made, and there were children's toys everywhere. There were posters on the wall I recognized from Brian, but they were torn, and sort of half hanging there.
I passed dirty Master bathroom and dirty shared hallway bathroom and three small bedrooms, plus the combination laundry room and Brian's kid's bathroom that we have in our apartment right now. I completely recognized that one, and the two kids that came spilling out of it, off towards the direction I came from. Brian's son started talking to me right away, asking me questions that meant anything to me, or any sense at all. He followed me back to my couch, where I sat down, notably moving around the bookshelves and sitting with a wall sized barrier between me and the boy. But he stood on the other side of the bookshelves wall, still talking constantly. It finally became clear that he was trying to get me to put some things in his luggage for him, because he was leaving to see his Mother for the weekend, and he wanted to bring some of the books. Then, from over the top of the bookshelves, came a pile, of all seven Harry Potter books, re-released in cheesy faux black leather, with illustrations. The illustrations were very clear to me, because when he threw them haphazardly over the ledge, they all opened up, and the covers came off, and pages flew out. I started screaming at him, horrified, becasue I am a HP fan, and because these are BOOKS he was throwing, and because I don't knwo what's going on, but I recognize this boy, and these precious items, and the pure unadulterated rudeness that would come with the thought process to throw anything at me right now.
So I screamed and shouted and sent him to his room, where he slammed the door, but I could still hear him arguing at me. Several small children came out to see what was going on, and to watch Brian's son get yelled at, Brian came out shouting, trying to find out what's going on now. The nice redheaded woman came in and assured him that, "Erica just got up, and (Brian's son's)'s at it again." Brian went abck in his room, and she came towards me. it became clear that I know her very well, she and I share a bedroom, with Brian, and whatever was wrong with why I felt so disoriented had obviously happened before. So as angry and frustrated, as confused as I was, these people were obviously taking care of me. She came around the bookshelves, looking kind and understanding, and said, "Erica, all these bags need to be sorted by child, and the presents distributed for the holiday, why don't you see if you can sort them into piles?" And she smiled. Around me on the floor, were tons of bags, most of them carrying brightly colored t-shirts, and small shoes, but also piles and piles of tiny individually packaged foods, for school lunches. It occured to me rght away that there were nine piles. NINE. There were NINE piles for NINE children in this house.
I picked up a small jersey style shirt with a bright animal printed on the front, and I brought it with me down the hall. Brian was talking to Brian's son in the little room, and when I approached he said, "There, see? You can wear that. Now stop arguing and just get dressed." And he grabbed the t-shirt and threw it onto the bunk bed with Brian's son, and I was upset, because it seemed that this was supposed to be a gift, and I didn't even know if it was for him, but that now someone would surely get one less gift. But then my head was spinning with the idea of three adults and NINE children in the house, and I was somehow part of all this, and I collapsed against the wall and I felt myself passing out . . .
That's when I woke up in my house, to the door buzzer blaring, and the dog barking like a maniac, and Brian talking to me incoherently, and the kids thumping and running down the hall, and I had to stare at my room, and reassure myself that I recognized this room specifically. I at least know what's going on here.
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08:39 pm
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Dick Moves
I am working out the details in my head for a board game called Dick Moves.
I know that the more you play it, the less anyone ever wants to play with you again.
I know that you each have a secret agenda. Every two agendas looks identical, but it has different goals. Each person has a secret agenda, with a secret goal, and one of the Dick Moves you can make is to accurately guess and announce to everyone else what someone else's secret goal is.
One of the secret agendas is to be The Nice One. You will do your damndest not to actually make any Dick Moves. Or rather, not to get caught at them. The less Dick Moves you make, by the end of the game, the closer to your goal. However, you need to make a large and well accomplished Dick Move, worth twice as many points, to finish the Goal (as no one expects a Dick Move from The Nice One.) This menas of course that there is a Sneaky Dick, who is accumulating as many Dick Moves points along the way as possible, without actually getting double credit, and who wants to accomplish his goals through a misdirection, that actually ends them in a different place completely.
Another Dick Move you can make is to memorize and accurately quote the rules of the game, immediately before, or during another players game. You would get two points for doing so as they are doing the rule wrong. One of the goals would be to get away with doing as many of the rules wrong as possible, without anyone else calling you out on it. But any player could get Dick points for convincing another player that the rule they are quoting is right and accurae if it is absolutely not.
I know that one Dick Move is to call out every time someone is intentionally (or even unintentionally) getting away with a Dick Move, and another is to call out "DIck!" every time someone makes a Dick move that is not actually part of any series of goals (like throwing the dice on the floor, or knock pieces over, or start heading your piece in the wrong direction.
And according to the rules of the game, the winner of the game should be able to bring the game home with them, and call it theirs.
I have no idea what it looks like, or how you would ever convince anyone to play with you.
It would be very frustrating . . .
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