a) To the left to the left is the link to my Fitblr (tumblr about working out. Actually, mine is mostly pictures of hot curvy girls. No joke!). If you're into that sort of thing, check it out!Good luck on the week, and be back tomooooooooorrow!!
b) To the right you'll see icons for:
Utilize them as you will (and if that means never, that's cool too).
- Following me on twitter
- Emailing me!
- Following the blog on facebook
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Other (quick, self-indulgent) updates!
Yo. Hope you guys are enjoying the end of Thanksgiving weekend! Or at the very least, not wanting to stab yourself in the eye with a pen at the thought of having to go back to work tomorrow. Before kicking off the week I wanted to just point your purty eyes to a few small changes.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Thankful for those who "married a lesbian, left a man at the altar, fell in love with a gay ice dancer, threw a girl’s wooden leg in a fire, live in a box!"
So I sort of can't believe that this is the fifth Thanksgiving I've been writing this blog (no for reals, yo: 2010, 2009, 2008 and 2007.
I'm... getting old!!!
Seriously though, I can't believe some of you guys have stuck with me this long. Through NY/Hoboken/VA/DC. Through grad school applying, freaking out about and graduating. Through relationships and break-ups. Through deaths and through births. Through the big D diagnosis (and resultant amount of annoying self-discovery that only comes with patience, time, a ridic amazing therapist and a healthy dose of daily anti-depressants). Through thick and through thin, and yes I am talking about amount/length of posts right now, you guys have been here. Which is why you're number one on my things for which I am thankful this year!!!
I'm... getting old!!!
Seriously though, I can't believe some of you guys have stuck with me this long. Through NY/Hoboken/VA/DC. Through grad school applying, freaking out about and graduating. Through relationships and break-ups. Through deaths and through births. Through the big D diagnosis (and resultant amount of annoying self-discovery that only comes with patience, time, a ridic amazing therapist and a healthy dose of daily anti-depressants). Through thick and through thin, and yes I am talking about amount/length of posts right now, you guys have been here. Which is why you're number one on my things for which I am thankful this year!!!
- You, dear readers. After coming off yet another hiatus, and somehow (some of) you are still here. I honestly just don't believe it. I want to ask why but that sounds self serving, so instead, THANK YOU! You're AWESOME. I hope your Thanksgiving (unless you're not from/living in the US in which case your Thursday) was just delicious.
- My parents. There is a small but discrete chance I might be laid off in the next month or so, and my mom was wonderful and told me I'm always welcome at home but didn't take offense when I said that I might stay in DC for a bit first. My dad, to his immense credit, didn't freak out. At all. And honestly, I can't tell you how much that means to me.
- My friend Caroline. She is the number one reason I ran a half marathon last weekend (oh hey! I ran a half marathon a week and a half ago!) and it was amazing and I hate myself for saying it but I like running. Relatedly, Maria (for running the half with me), Mr. Maria (who needs a name, and was super supportive on the sidelines), Joey for pushing and believing in me (even though she was injured and actually has always loved running. She's a weirdo), Maggie and Mr. Maggie for cheering me on via the internets consistently and loudly, Becca for pushing me hard when I needed it most, Anna and Dan for calming me down and telling me I could do it, Chelsea for signing up for Daily Mile just cause I asked her to, Emilia for always having said I could do it, Arielle for telling me I wasn't going to die, and Ramona, my DC coach who answered emails and gave me motivation and told me I could do it and ran my 10K with me in October and just was lovely and now is going to force me to run another one. Except I want to, so it's not forced.
- Daily Mile. YOU ARE A GODSEND! I hated running. I hated working out. I'm not saying I'm great at it, but amazing concept for those of us who are probably a leeeeeeettle too obsessed with social media and not so much with the exercising.
- My brother and sister in law! DUDE I HAVE A SISTER IN LAW! How cool is THAT. We are going to see the Muppets tomorrow and I have to say they really are probably the only people in the world I would have waited for.
- The Muppets. This is not the first time they have been on a Thanksgiving list, because they are that amazing. I've been re-watching clips from the Muppet Movie, the Great Muppet Caper, and the Muppet Show. I think we all know (well. Those of you from back in the beginning - seriously! SO GREAT) that starting tonight I'm allll about the Muppet Family Christmas (the orig) and the A Christmas Together album. Why are they so good? I honestly just don't know.
- The knowledge that losing my job would not be the worst thing in the world. I have a ridiculously supportive support network, a 401K that would buy me probably a year or so of leeway, parents who will pay for trips home to interview for jobs and - worst comes to worst - let me live in their house again if it comes to that. Not just that, but I do not have a mortgage, a spouse, kids, significant amounts of debt, health problems that can't be managed (at least for a time) by meds, responsibilities that require me to face the fact that losing my job would not just be a massive weight of hating my work off my shoulders, but also a terrible, terrible thing. Ignorance is bliss, and so is my carefree life.
- My sister Grace. Having her a half a mile away is just, just? JUST! The best thing ever. She drove me here to NJ yesterday and for the six hours we were in the car we just... laughed and harmonized and told each other Deep Serious Things. Knowing I can pretty much repeat that (hopefully without the traffic, and maybe not even the car? Unless we wanna go somewhere yummy?) whenever I want or need to has been of great comfort.
- Well-appointed running gear. Good shoes, a warm ear headband thing, a water belt that lasted me throughout 13.1 miles, comfy but wick-y (I'm still new to the jargon) winter leggings, headbands that prevent me from Italianing into my eyes (that is my word for sweating. Also my word for eating too much pasta, having powerful thighs, and making people swoon), Girl Talk on my ipod, sunglasses over my eyes and body glide. BODY GLIDE! All freaking over my body.
- My amazing, fantastical, charming, caring, hilarious, consideration, loving friends. All of them. They've been through the ringer and back with me (imagine all you guys had to deal with, and then multiply it by four). For offering me places to live to letting me essentially be a part of their family to cooking me dinner and feeding me wine and listening to me bitch and listening to me cry and listening to me obsess and not judging me at all, I LOVE EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU. Seriously. Maybe too much.
Happy Thanksgiving, all. I hope you, yours, and the people for whom you are thankful had a wonderful holiday (or Thursday!) and that you got the bigger piece of the wishbone.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Torn between agreement and exasperation
So.
When not at my "home office" (read: couch. Ok fine, mostly bed), I work a few blocks off of McPherson Square. As you may have been bludgeoned over the head with, the Occupy DC contingent of the Occupy Wall Street movement has set up camp there - literally - for the past few months. As it happens, I also used to work inside the Brookfield Properties building at 1 Liberty Plaza - otherwise known as, the building rising over Zuccotti Park in Manhattan.
In other words, I'm sort of upset I/my friends haven't been on the nightly news.
I guess they aren't interviewing "our types" as much, because at least in New York downtown workers are so used to being harassed for questions about the WTC, or to take pictures for tourists (sidenote: totally fine to take a picture. Maybe don't point and smile at the remaining wreckage though?) that they are well-versed in the slide away gaze/I'm too busy shuffle. Instead, what we get are the crazies on camera and funny clips from the Daily Show that show classist riffs already burgeoning among the 99%.
Which is really too bad.
Because I do, at least in the basics, agree with the movement. It's ridiculous that the political class and the very moneyed class (and I'm not even just saying the 1%, although that does have a nice ring to it) seem to have set up the rules so that they benefit the most. Worse is that they seem to feel they deserve it, and if there's anything I hate more in the world (other than people pronouncing "bruschetta" as though it's spelled "broo-shet-uh") it's that feeling of entitlement that comes from ridiculously good circumstances in life, plus some luck.
Not saying they don't work hard (although, yeah, some of them don't).
BUT I AM saying that if Warren Buffett had been born in West Africa, you can bet your bippy he wouldn't be writing op-eds in the NYT about taxing himself more. And at least he gets it. Even people like Bill Gates, who use their RIDICULOUS amounts of money that, I'm sorry, NO ONE SHOULD BE ABLE TO SPEND IN LIFE for good (like the Gates Foundation) still - why the hell do you get to determine where that money goes? What makes you so special? Your brain? Psh. Many more like you. Your luck? Yeah, don't push it. Your good looks - puh, leeze. Don't you feel instead that you should be paying your country back a bit for the massive good fortune you've had and in other senses accumulated?
No?!?!
Without having been born in the United States in the specific era in which they were lucky enough to come of age standing on the shoulders of the work that had come before - and that they were privileged enough to have been exposed to!! - these people (all of them. I don't care who we're talking about, I'm pissed) would not be the megarich. I'm not saying they're not special. I'm not saying they're not smart, or that they haven't worked their asses off.
I AM saying that a billion dollars is TOO much for one or two people to have when there are people. Literally. Starving in Somalia every minute of every day. And if the US Government had some of that money, maybe we could actually implement some of the smart foreign policy ideas to alleviate BASIC HUMAN SUFFERING (while fixing our own schools, investing in our own teachers, paying our own military, and just in general being better at governing and governance).
And so, I do agree with the OWS people's principles that the megarich, and even the normally wealthy/upper middle class (like, I'll admit it, my own immigrant father and teacher mother) can afford to pay more in taxes than they are. So that we can pay off our debts. So college students don't need to be mired in bankruptcy as soon as they graduate. So that we can bring troops home and thank them for serving our country (no matter how weak the case was that they should have been there in the first place) by providing them with healthcare and mental health services and a stipend or an education. So we can help others who need it, instead of buying a fucking HUMMER for the streets of the SUBURBS. The fact of the matter is we should all be willing to CHIP IN for the privilege of having lived and continuing to live in pretty much the BEST effing CIRCUMSTANCES on the globe! GAH!!
However.
I do not agree with the OWS people's methods. Oh sure, I respect them for being able to withstand wind and water and certainly police action to make a statement. I went camping once, and it rained, and I do not care to ever ever subject myself to a night in a soaking wet tent on a soaking wet ground AGAIN.
Well. Unless it was for fun reasons.
But here's the thing? My experience in McPherson, and my friends' experience outside Zuccotti, isn't... pleasant. There are guys walking into Starbucks wearing only a robe - seriously, no shoes, no nothing - at 2pm to use the restroom. I love me some Starbucks public toilets, but buy a bottle of water or something. And put on some SOCKS!
In New York, I've heard tales of snarky judgment being rained down people in business clothes. Hey. Look. WE ARE (for the most part) ON YOUR SIDE. It's math man! Out of every 100 people walking down the street, 98 of them are on YOUR side, and one of the remaining two is YOU. I get it, you're in Wall Street, so bankers blah blah. You know what else is in downtown Manhattan? Food vendors, and tourists, and paralegals and underlings and secretaries!
Gah. Again.
Like Natalie Imbruglia, I'm torn: I'm a little late, but this is how I feel. I want the world to recognize the way things are: you're not better because you were born in New Jersey in 1983. Or in California in 1977 (Tom Brady, baby daddy, modelizer, hulking mass of pigskin tossing, and a one percenter). Or born in that state in 1955 (Steve Jobs, inventor of all things shiny, ridiculously smart innovator, and a one percenter). Or born in Illinois in 1947 (Jon Corzine, dude who is responsible for stupid Chris Christie being in charge of my beloved state, recently disgraced head of doing exactly what he railed against three years ago, and a one percenter). Or born in Nebraska in 1930 (Warren hisself, philanthropist, Berkshire King, and a one percenter).
We are all. Unbelievably. Lucky.
And yet - AND YET - if these OWS or David or DC or Oakland or wherever the fuck they are (everywhere) could maybe coalesce, write down three ideas, and get themselves elected to Congress, instead of DIRTYING UP THE REST OF OUR PUBLIC SPACES, I would greatly appreciate it. Because that's how change happens in America people. And we're pretty fucking lucky that we live here, and not in a place where people are killed for even thinking that they might like something a little different.
When not at my "home office" (read: couch. Ok fine, mostly bed), I work a few blocks off of McPherson Square. As you may have been bludgeoned over the head with, the Occupy DC contingent of the Occupy Wall Street movement has set up camp there - literally - for the past few months. As it happens, I also used to work inside the Brookfield Properties building at 1 Liberty Plaza - otherwise known as, the building rising over Zuccotti Park in Manhattan.
In other words, I'm sort of upset I/my friends haven't been on the nightly news.
I guess they aren't interviewing "our types" as much, because at least in New York downtown workers are so used to being harassed for questions about the WTC, or to take pictures for tourists (sidenote: totally fine to take a picture. Maybe don't point and smile at the remaining wreckage though?) that they are well-versed in the slide away gaze/I'm too busy shuffle. Instead, what we get are the crazies on camera and funny clips from the Daily Show that show classist riffs already burgeoning among the 99%.
Which is really too bad.
Because I do, at least in the basics, agree with the movement. It's ridiculous that the political class and the very moneyed class (and I'm not even just saying the 1%, although that does have a nice ring to it) seem to have set up the rules so that they benefit the most. Worse is that they seem to feel they deserve it, and if there's anything I hate more in the world (other than people pronouncing "bruschetta" as though it's spelled "broo-shet-uh") it's that feeling of entitlement that comes from ridiculously good circumstances in life, plus some luck.
Not saying they don't work hard (although, yeah, some of them don't).
BUT I AM saying that if Warren Buffett had been born in West Africa, you can bet your bippy he wouldn't be writing op-eds in the NYT about taxing himself more. And at least he gets it. Even people like Bill Gates, who use their RIDICULOUS amounts of money that, I'm sorry, NO ONE SHOULD BE ABLE TO SPEND IN LIFE for good (like the Gates Foundation) still - why the hell do you get to determine where that money goes? What makes you so special? Your brain? Psh. Many more like you. Your luck? Yeah, don't push it. Your good looks - puh, leeze. Don't you feel instead that you should be paying your country back a bit for the massive good fortune you've had and in other senses accumulated?
No?!?!
Without having been born in the United States in the specific era in which they were lucky enough to come of age standing on the shoulders of the work that had come before - and that they were privileged enough to have been exposed to!! - these people (all of them. I don't care who we're talking about, I'm pissed) would not be the megarich. I'm not saying they're not special. I'm not saying they're not smart, or that they haven't worked their asses off.
I AM saying that a billion dollars is TOO much for one or two people to have when there are people. Literally. Starving in Somalia every minute of every day. And if the US Government had some of that money, maybe we could actually implement some of the smart foreign policy ideas to alleviate BASIC HUMAN SUFFERING (while fixing our own schools, investing in our own teachers, paying our own military, and just in general being better at governing and governance).
And so, I do agree with the OWS people's principles that the megarich, and even the normally wealthy/upper middle class (like, I'll admit it, my own immigrant father and teacher mother) can afford to pay more in taxes than they are. So that we can pay off our debts. So college students don't need to be mired in bankruptcy as soon as they graduate. So that we can bring troops home and thank them for serving our country (no matter how weak the case was that they should have been there in the first place) by providing them with healthcare and mental health services and a stipend or an education. So we can help others who need it, instead of buying a fucking HUMMER for the streets of the SUBURBS. The fact of the matter is we should all be willing to CHIP IN for the privilege of having lived and continuing to live in pretty much the BEST effing CIRCUMSTANCES on the globe! GAH!!
However.
I do not agree with the OWS people's methods. Oh sure, I respect them for being able to withstand wind and water and certainly police action to make a statement. I went camping once, and it rained, and I do not care to ever ever subject myself to a night in a soaking wet tent on a soaking wet ground AGAIN.
Well. Unless it was for fun reasons.
But here's the thing? My experience in McPherson, and my friends' experience outside Zuccotti, isn't... pleasant. There are guys walking into Starbucks wearing only a robe - seriously, no shoes, no nothing - at 2pm to use the restroom. I love me some Starbucks public toilets, but buy a bottle of water or something. And put on some SOCKS!
In New York, I've heard tales of snarky judgment being rained down people in business clothes. Hey. Look. WE ARE (for the most part) ON YOUR SIDE. It's math man! Out of every 100 people walking down the street, 98 of them are on YOUR side, and one of the remaining two is YOU. I get it, you're in Wall Street, so bankers blah blah. You know what else is in downtown Manhattan? Food vendors, and tourists, and paralegals and underlings and secretaries!
Gah. Again.
Like Natalie Imbruglia, I'm torn: I'm a little late, but this is how I feel. I want the world to recognize the way things are: you're not better because you were born in New Jersey in 1983. Or in California in 1977 (Tom Brady, baby daddy, modelizer, hulking mass of pigskin tossing, and a one percenter). Or born in that state in 1955 (Steve Jobs, inventor of all things shiny, ridiculously smart innovator, and a one percenter). Or born in Illinois in 1947 (Jon Corzine, dude who is responsible for stupid Chris Christie being in charge of my beloved state, recently disgraced head of doing exactly what he railed against three years ago, and a one percenter). Or born in Nebraska in 1930 (Warren hisself, philanthropist, Berkshire King, and a one percenter).
We are all. Unbelievably. Lucky.
And yet - AND YET - if these OWS or David or DC or Oakland or wherever the fuck they are (everywhere) could maybe coalesce, write down three ideas, and get themselves elected to Congress, instead of DIRTYING UP THE REST OF OUR PUBLIC SPACES, I would greatly appreciate it. Because that's how change happens in America people. And we're pretty fucking lucky that we live here, and not in a place where people are killed for even thinking that they might like something a little different.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
The Always a Drunk, Never a Bride
Guide to Getting into My Pants
So.
As part of the blog revamp, I went through alllll of my old blog posts, which was both super fun (I crack myself up. Seriously, I am the funniest person I know. Ok that's a lie but I get all my inside jokes with myself!!) and kind of really...
... sad? Melancholic? Tragic?
It was rough to watch myself fall head over heels for Grad School Ex, knowing what I know now about how it works out. And it was worse to watch me treat him like crap sometimes, knowing what I know now about how deep into the Big D I was sinking. And more than anything, it was really just terrible watching what was clearly a longer than 6 month process of going from normal (ok, still ridic elevated - seriously. I had a problem!) levels of anxiety to some Seriously. Depressed. Shit.
But that's over. (Right brain? Right Pinky. (SEE SO FUNNY!!!))
Uh, anyway? The super awesome thing that made up for it was watching trends in my life that have come and gone. What I mean by that, as an example, is overuse of words (ridic, fabulous, super super super) and overconsumption of booze (seriously. It's been... well not a while cause I was pretty toasty on Sunday but seriously. Before that? I don't remember. IRL friends - please don't try to remind me, got it?). I mean having been way more comfortable with giving pretty specific details about my life, and having been far more excited about new people and parties and things that are exciting, but aren't the marrow of our existences.
I also got more annoying/preachy as the time went on.
But one thing stayed the same, and was AWESOME - I have a tendency to tell people how to get into my pants. The funny thing is, I just did this a few weeks ago with Anna (and friends). We were driving to her bachelorette party and Boyz II Men came on and I was like "oh man, if anyone wants to sleep with me this weekend just tell them to play "I'll Make Love to You" as a pick up line. Surest and quickest way into my pants, ever."
However, over the years there have been a few equally or more sure and quick ways to get into my pants, depending on which version of MA you were asking (some explanations are linked, others are just you know. There). And because I would rather reflect on that than on the past two years of my life, I give you:
As part of the blog revamp, I went through alllll of my old blog posts, which was both super fun (I crack myself up. Seriously, I am the funniest person I know. Ok that's a lie but I get all my inside jokes with myself!!) and kind of really...
... sad? Melancholic? Tragic?
It was rough to watch myself fall head over heels for Grad School Ex, knowing what I know now about how it works out. And it was worse to watch me treat him like crap sometimes, knowing what I know now about how deep into the Big D I was sinking. And more than anything, it was really just terrible watching what was clearly a longer than 6 month process of going from normal (ok, still ridic elevated - seriously. I had a problem!) levels of anxiety to some Seriously. Depressed. Shit.
But that's over. (Right brain? Right Pinky. (SEE SO FUNNY!!!))
Uh, anyway? The super awesome thing that made up for it was watching trends in my life that have come and gone. What I mean by that, as an example, is overuse of words (ridic, fabulous, super super super) and overconsumption of booze (seriously. It's been... well not a while cause I was pretty toasty on Sunday but seriously. Before that? I don't remember. IRL friends - please don't try to remind me, got it?). I mean having been way more comfortable with giving pretty specific details about my life, and having been far more excited about new people and parties and things that are exciting, but aren't the marrow of our existences.
I also got more annoying/preachy as the time went on.
But one thing stayed the same, and was AWESOME - I have a tendency to tell people how to get into my pants. The funny thing is, I just did this a few weeks ago with Anna (and friends). We were driving to her bachelorette party and Boyz II Men came on and I was like "oh man, if anyone wants to sleep with me this weekend just tell them to play "I'll Make Love to You" as a pick up line. Surest and quickest way into my pants, ever."
However, over the years there have been a few equally or more sure and quick ways to get into my pants, depending on which version of MA you were asking (some explanations are linked, others are just you know. There). And because I would rather reflect on that than on the past two years of my life, I give you:
The Always a Drunk, Never a Bride Guide to Getting into My Pants
- Play I'll Make Love to You as a pick up song. Honestly? Even though I know I should, I don't judge myself an IOTA for this one. When I was 15 this was the only description I had of sex that wasn't from a parent, a health teacher, or this one girl who you kind of didn't believe but was your only source. Let's just say, she said tinfoil was involved and nearly 15 years later I still don't understand how. Anyway, when those Motown Philly boys (and mens, what WHAT) told me my wish is their command, I shivered. Fuck it, I still do. No one has EVER "submit[ted] to my demands". Probably because that sounds creepy, but when they sing it, it just sounds like the most. Romantic. Shit. Possible.
- Be able to sing (anything, I guess, but I like musicals). Preferably just like Hugh Jackman. Being as jacked as him is not required, though I can't imagine it would hurt.
- Be able to go head for head in a Harry Potter trivia off. I know it's probably impossible, and that you all are probably thinking that anyone who could beat me would be even sadder and scarier than I have been in the past (most recently, Sunday night. Ehem. That was after the toasty part, but I can't say I blame you for thinking that) and so that would be a massive turn off. You all, however, would be very very wrong.
- Tell me I look like a young Elizabeth Taylor. A young Kirstie Alley works too, mostly because I actually believe that and if you add the line "when she was hot, like in Cheers" I get to think that you think I'm chill like she was, and also? Remember the best bar ever (oh I miss it. I MISS IT). Point is - it works.
- Calling me out on my bullshit but in a nice way. I think I'm pretty smart (false, I think I'm really fucking smart) and yet like to put on a high voice and act ditzy and do the equivalent for anything that is relevant at the time, because I am a contrarian jackass. Being able to see that and call me out on it is hot. Being able to do so without making me feel shame, and instead making me feel like you see through me? Really REALLY fucking hot. Wanna see through my clothes?
- Know which song from Phantom is the deep dark secret (on the internets for all to see) behind my original proposal fantasy. Actually, I should probably start with "know that I have several proposal fantasies, and don't be freaked out because trust me I'm pretty sure the marriage thing is still a bit of a way off, but I want the party, DAMNIT." Then go with the song.
- Be Ryan Gosling. Or Jason Segel. Or Ryan Reynolds. Or Josh Radnor. Or Billy Joel (screw you he's awesome). Or Bruce or JBJ or James Marsden or Cary Elwes (Becca, I know, I know) or Matthew Perry before massive drug problems and bloat, and you know probably David Schwimmer and definitely Matt LeBlanc or John Cusack or Gerald Butler or Colin Firth or Mark Ruffalo or James McAvoy or Bradley Cooper or... you get the point, right?
- Use an appropriate version of the "I cried like a baby at the Keller wedding" line from 27 Dresses. Or at the very least quote that line appropriately, accurately, and then serenade me with Benny and the Jets.
- Pull a Harry Burns. Be snarky when we meet but somehow still intriguing, slowly, inexorably become my new dude BFF, and one night, probably vaguely drunken (with tears, sure, but also probably wine - this is after all my life), be so nice to me that when you kiss me I pull you back into it and even though suddenly you think it might be a bad idea, because it might ruin the friendship - go for it.
Monday, November 21, 2011
And we're back!
So.
I have (nearly almost one hundred percent kind no really) finished the edit of my blog. I know. The news you have been WAITING for!
But seriously. I'm done (ish).
This was all prompted by a date I went on back... whenever I disappeared. He's a lovely gentleman, we were laughing, doing that new-person thing where you tell your good stories but not your best ones and certainly not your worst. At some point he was telling me about this relationship he has with a bartender in my 'hood that had me in floods because he was excellent at recounting the guy's speaking pattern, when suddenly I realized the reason I knew this because I also knew the guy.
Hm.
Now, ok. That didn't have to mean anything - as I said, he works a few blocks from me, and oh right, at a bar. It's not like I'm a stranger to drinking establishments. But the reason I know this bartender is the DC blogging community, and between his job in techy stuff, and him being a self-avowed internets savant, the cogs starting turning.
But 2 minutes later.
He was finishing up his story and he mentioned a friend of his. A friend who has a relatively unique name. Which is the name of a friend of mine. Who is a DC blogger.
And then the cogs clicked into place.
I asked - wait, are you talking about UniqueName LastName? And he was. And then we did the "wait do you know soandso" thing and he did and I did and while it wasn't awkward it was a FIRST. Because then he asks, "wait - so are you a blogger?"
Eep.
And I laughed it off and said no, yes, no and he laughed and that was sort of that. Except in this day and age, I'd almost judge him if he didn't do the post-date text to mutuals being like "so wait - what's up here?"
Cause I know I did.
It's things like this that make me wonder if it's even worth it to be anonymous. Which it is, because I'm ok with the people I date and the people I'm friends with and most of the people I'm related to knowing that this place exists, but coworkers and future employers and people I'm NOT yet dating should probably have a harder time finding me.
However.
Given that it's really not impossible, not at all, to find me, I sort of had a "yanno..." moment. You know. "Yanno, maybe things I thought back in 2007 aren't as relevant today. Yanno, I've learned a bunch in the past 4 years and sort of sound like an idiot sometimes. Yanno, it's not really necessary for people in my life to be able to read my bad stories before I've even told them the great ones."
So - edit. Done.
It took forever because I decided to use the opportunity to just streamline the whole thing. Everyone's names are now consistent throughout (I think) and there may be a whole Cast of Characters page in the near future. Tags are for the most part descriptive but general so it's not like my real life where I have three thousand ways of saying the same thing (I hope), and maybe we'll even see a tag cloud (wait. Do people do those anymore?). Anyway, the last part of the revamp is as of right now, I'm going by MA.
Hi guys! I'm MA!
That is one of the many nicknames my IRL friends have for me, and I don't know if it's dumb to use it, but I DO know that (almost) everything on here (I really REALLY am pretty sure) is stuff that anyone can read, should they find me. Bosses, boyfriends, exes, and randos. You, my mom, my neighbor.
Still Mom - don't read. Cmon.
And so the next time (if there is one) when I meet someone and we do the "who do you know" game and it turns out we have a blogger in common, I won't freeze up and wonder - crap. What have I said? And what did I say in 2007 about bowel movements?! Not that I think people are necessarily looking for that shit.
That's a lot of words for poop.
But I would be. Slash am. In life? So I took the precautions just in case the person reading this right now is my coworker to whom I owe a memo. Oops, friend. Getting to that next.
I have (nearly almost one hundred percent kind no really) finished the edit of my blog. I know. The news you have been WAITING for!
But seriously. I'm done (ish).
This was all prompted by a date I went on back... whenever I disappeared. He's a lovely gentleman, we were laughing, doing that new-person thing where you tell your good stories but not your best ones and certainly not your worst. At some point he was telling me about this relationship he has with a bartender in my 'hood that had me in floods because he was excellent at recounting the guy's speaking pattern, when suddenly I realized the reason I knew this because I also knew the guy.
Hm.
Now, ok. That didn't have to mean anything - as I said, he works a few blocks from me, and oh right, at a bar. It's not like I'm a stranger to drinking establishments. But the reason I know this bartender is the DC blogging community, and between his job in techy stuff, and him being a self-avowed internets savant, the cogs starting turning.
But 2 minutes later.
He was finishing up his story and he mentioned a friend of his. A friend who has a relatively unique name. Which is the name of a friend of mine. Who is a DC blogger.
And then the cogs clicked into place.
I asked - wait, are you talking about UniqueName LastName? And he was. And then we did the "wait do you know soandso" thing and he did and I did and while it wasn't awkward it was a FIRST. Because then he asks, "wait - so are you a blogger?"
Eep.
And I laughed it off and said no, yes, no and he laughed and that was sort of that. Except in this day and age, I'd almost judge him if he didn't do the post-date text to mutuals being like "so wait - what's up here?"
Cause I know I did.
It's things like this that make me wonder if it's even worth it to be anonymous. Which it is, because I'm ok with the people I date and the people I'm friends with and most of the people I'm related to knowing that this place exists, but coworkers and future employers and people I'm NOT yet dating should probably have a harder time finding me.
However.
Given that it's really not impossible, not at all, to find me, I sort of had a "yanno..." moment. You know. "Yanno, maybe things I thought back in 2007 aren't as relevant today. Yanno, I've learned a bunch in the past 4 years and sort of sound like an idiot sometimes. Yanno, it's not really necessary for people in my life to be able to read my bad stories before I've even told them the great ones."
So - edit. Done.
It took forever because I decided to use the opportunity to just streamline the whole thing. Everyone's names are now consistent throughout (I think) and there may be a whole Cast of Characters page in the near future. Tags are for the most part descriptive but general so it's not like my real life where I have three thousand ways of saying the same thing (I hope), and maybe we'll even see a tag cloud (wait. Do people do those anymore?). Anyway, the last part of the revamp is as of right now, I'm going by MA.
Hi guys! I'm MA!
That is one of the many nicknames my IRL friends have for me, and I don't know if it's dumb to use it, but I DO know that (almost) everything on here (I really REALLY am pretty sure) is stuff that anyone can read, should they find me. Bosses, boyfriends, exes, and randos. You, my mom, my neighbor.
Still Mom - don't read. Cmon.
And so the next time (if there is one) when I meet someone and we do the "who do you know" game and it turns out we have a blogger in common, I won't freeze up and wonder - crap. What have I said? And what did I say in 2007 about bowel movements?! Not that I think people are necessarily looking for that shit.
That's a lot of words for poop.
But I would be. Slash am. In life? So I took the precautions just in case the person reading this right now is my coworker to whom I owe a memo. Oops, friend. Getting to that next.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Happy Veteran's Day!
I'll be back - for real this time - Monday. For now, I just want to say that I know I can be jaded about what American "means" or "is" or "wants". I may scorn those people or causes that wrap themselves up in a flag and a bow and say they are "real" America. I definitely deride anyone who thinks American is one, specific version of itself.
But that should never be mistaken as being jaded/scornful/derisive of our troops.
We live in an age of a volunteer army, which sometimes I hate (too easy to go to war?) but deep down love because I know none of my loved ones will die defending our country. That's terrible, but it's true, and at the end of the day I honor and respect our troops and their families more than anyone else, because they do what I cannot. Thank you for keeping us safe, whatever that means, and for truly laying your life down for America:
as freedom is a breakfastfood
or truth can live with right and wrong
or molehills are from mountains made
--long enough and just so long
will being pay the rent of seem
and genius please the talentgang
and water most encourage flame
as hatracks into peachtrees grow
or hopes dance best on bald men's hair
and every finger is a toe
and any courage is a fear
--long enough and just so long
will the impure think all things pure
and hornets wail by children stung
or as the seeing are the blind
and robins never welcome spring
nor flatfolk prove their world is round
nor dingsters die at break of dong
and common's rare and millstones float
--long enough and just so long
tomorrow will not be too late
worms are the words but joy's the voice
down shall go which and up come who
breasts will be breasts thighs will be thighs
deeds cannot dream what dreams can do
--time is a tree (this life one leaf)
but love is the sky and i am for you
just so long and long enough
(e.e. cummings)
But that should never be mistaken as being jaded/scornful/derisive of our troops.
We live in an age of a volunteer army, which sometimes I hate (too easy to go to war?) but deep down love because I know none of my loved ones will die defending our country. That's terrible, but it's true, and at the end of the day I honor and respect our troops and their families more than anyone else, because they do what I cannot. Thank you for keeping us safe, whatever that means, and for truly laying your life down for America:
as freedom is a breakfastfood
or truth can live with right and wrong
or molehills are from mountains made
--long enough and just so long
will being pay the rent of seem
and genius please the talentgang
and water most encourage flame
as hatracks into peachtrees grow
or hopes dance best on bald men's hair
and every finger is a toe
and any courage is a fear
--long enough and just so long
will the impure think all things pure
and hornets wail by children stung
or as the seeing are the blind
and robins never welcome spring
nor flatfolk prove their world is round
nor dingsters die at break of dong
and common's rare and millstones float
--long enough and just so long
tomorrow will not be too late
worms are the words but joy's the voice
down shall go which and up come who
breasts will be breasts thighs will be thighs
deeds cannot dream what dreams can do
--time is a tree (this life one leaf)
but love is the sky and i am for you
just so long and long enough
(e.e. cummings)
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