Some Wedding Stuff and Where to Get Reproduction Fashion

I've been trying to strike a balance between letting myself express the excitement and happiness I feel because of my impending wedding, and not wanting to be annoying and be one of those women who babble endlessly about it and can't ever seem to talk about anything else. I know my friends are lovely and supportive, but it would annoy me if I caught myself doing it. Therefore, I haven't blogged every single detail, but I have been having fun talking about dresses, and in discussing that topic, I've been made aware of some amazing websites and want to pass them on.

Love it, but a mis-match

The Internet is such a wonderful invention. Sometimes, I think it's mostly a tool for all the jerks who would normally just spew nonsense to their cronies in some bar or meeting to in instead post them in comments, but thankfully, it also lets people keep in touch and find others who like the same things. From Beth, Chia, Theresa, and Nina, I've had this whole world of retro and reproduction fashion opened up to me and have in turn shared it with a few others who also got excited about it.

I'd already heard of and browsed through Mod Cloth, but didn't find anything in my size that really interested me. I'm 6' tall and not a toothpick. Luckily, where I was ignorant of where else to look, others are expert! First, Theresa told me about Trashy Diva. I really like the look of some of the dresses there, but the prices, while not unreasonable, put them out of my budget. Still, they were a lot of fun to look at, and I have bookmarked it for a future date when I can afford to expand my wardrobe.

Chia then told me about Stop Staring!, which is when I started really getting excited. These dresses are not only gorgeous, but I got sticker shock in a good way! After hearing Nina's glowing reviews of the fit and quality of the dresses she's gotten from there, including her own wedding dress, it's really surprising to me that the average price of the ones I really liked was only about $150. In fact, the dress I'd originally decided was going to be my wedding dress is a Stop Staring! style. As much as I love it , I ultimately had to admit that it's a mis-match to what Fraser is going to be wearing, and I'm really looking forward to seeing him in his new kilt and the more formal rig to go with it.

Fraser will be in something like this

In choosing a dress, it's also important to me that the dress is one I can wear again. I'm just not interested in spending a bunch of money on something I'll either have to give away, re-sell at a loss, or allow to gather dust in my closet for the rest of my life. Plus, I think it'll be nice to wear it again and remember the first time I wore it. 

Oh, and I don't want to wear white. I'm not going to post a picture of it here just yet, but the dress I've now chosen is actually black, and I think it's perfect. At first, I was a little

worried about what people might think or say if I wore a black dress, but then I saw pictures of Nina in her black wedding dress, and man, that is a classy look. Not to mention, if anyone's going to be rude enough to say anything negative about my attire at my wedding, then that'll only reflect badly on them, not on me. I found the dress I will be ordering at Unique Vintage, which Beth pointed me to after learning that I liked the styles from Stop Staring! and Trashy Diva, as she wore a Trashy Diva dress to her own wedding, along with having some other pieces in her wardrobe. She also sent me to Daddy-o's, which I've bookmarked for future reference as well.

Black & White MacFarlane Tartan

The dress I chose is a 50's reproduction, and while it's black, it's not just flat black, and it does have some adornment that makes it a little fancier. It'll also need a crinoline, and Fraser and I decided that it'll be fun if we get my crinoline and his cravat in the same color. He'll also be mostly in black, largely because his new kilt is being made in his black and white clan tartan. That way, we each get to wear a little color and inject some more fun and personality into the whole look. While we're not planning an overly lavish or large affair for the wedding, we'll be happy with what we're wearing and what will be in the pictures we'll get to have forever. 

Now, what I really need are shoes, and I keep being taunted by ads for John Fluevog's designs. If anyone knows where to score a pair of those on the cheap, that'd be great. If I could afford them, I'd totally be wearing these or  these.

When Life Takes Your Pumpkins...

For at least all of my adult life, Fall has been my favorite season. My friend Scott does the best autumnal things, like getting candles in all the right smells, hosting pumpkin carving contests, and, along with the rest of a group of like-minded friends, plans outings to haunted hayrides and Hammer movie marathons. We used to walk at the beach a lot, and my favorite walks were the ones where the salt air was cooling off and there was a 20 degree difference between the stretches of sidewalk under the shadows of all the emptying hotels and the gaps where the sun came through.
I found myself missing that this year, sad that I'll miss out on all the fun.

Along with that, there's the food - the pumpkin pie, pumpkin bread, pumpkin spice lattes, and I thought surely, that would help fill in some of what I was missing, but alas, pumpkin is really hard to come by in Scotland. Even Starbucks, which I figured would be the same everywhere, doesn't offer the Fall seasonal flavors that they do in the US. I spent a little too much time whining and convincing myself that I was homesick for these things. I didn't make it home for Thanksgiving last year, and I won't this year either, but I'd decided that since our friends here seem to rotate hosting little gatherings at home, one of our turns would be a Thanksgiving dinner. After seeing how hard it is to find pumpkin, my ears drooped and I became convinced that it just wouldn't be the same.

Then, tonight, while I was putting some dessert together, I took a good look at what was in front of me, and what it all meant:

See the mug? Not only does it say I [heart] boys in kilts, reminding me of the sweet Scottish guy I'm here to be with, but it's full of coffee from my new coffee maker, a gift from my mom to give me back one of those comforts of home I'd been missing. Then, there's the Mackie's honeycomb ice cream, which may possibly be the best ice cream I've ever had in my life. If you've ever had a Cadbury's Crunchie bar, it's like the inside of that, mixed in with this amazingly light ice cream, and, more to the point, is not available in America. Granny Smith apples, oatmeal, and brown sugar are plentiful enough in America, so I could make that apple crisp at home, but the important thing is, I could make it here.

I realized that I actually have everything I was missing, with the exception of the specific friends who are back home. I miss them, and if there were some way to get everyone all together at once, I'd do it, but I have memories of previous years and more years to look forward to with them, and I'm sure we'll make the most of them.

Right now, I have autumnal food; I have a damn fine cup of coffee; I have new friends and my boy; I have things that I can enjoy here, that I couldn't if I were anywhere else but where I am right now.

Are We There Yet?

 

As with any departure or major life change, of course there are going to be people and things I'm sad to leave behind. Just for now, though, I want to focus on the things I'm looking forward to, eagerly awaiting, and will generally become unbearably excited about in the very near future.
Let's see.
In...
...about an hour, I am meeting friends at a place with really good desserts.
...the morning, I will begin a full day of moving-related chores. Post office, UHaul place, storage unit, etc. But I also get to see more friends and possibly something really cool (but more on that if it actually happens).
...another day, I'll finish the last-minute errands. Drop off cable box, etc. After the errands are done, I'll have lunch with another friend, then get on the road.
...less than a week, I'll be in Virginia.
...about 2 weeks, I'll have finished or be about to finish a government-related temp job and helping my mom redecorate/rearrange her house.
...3 weeks, be checking the clock every 5 seconds, change my outfit 93 times, and generally drive everyone around me insane while I pace around and wait for The Boy's plane to arrive.
...about a month, attend the wedding of one of my best friends, and be in the company of my date, whose skirt* may be shorter than mine.

*yes, I know a kilt is not exactly a skirt, but I wasn't raised in Scotland, so the thought is kinda funny to me, despite The Boy looking really hawt in it. Don't kick my ass.

Reformatting February

For the past several years, February has just been an inordinately difficult month for me. That's when I've tended to get dumped, laid off my jobs, have fallings-out with friends, and so on. Despite its containing the birthdays of lots of my favorite people, I've just identified all too well with Dar Williams' song, named for the month, in which she declares that she has "lost to February."


Then, I realized something the other day: This year, this February, however, I did not have the urge to listen to that song a single time. In the past month, some other tunes that have been stuck in my head have changed as well.

It was:

I had resigned myself to probably never actually finishing this novel I've been working on (in an on-again/off-again sort of way) for a while. I was stuck on a major plot point that kept me from knowing where the rest of the story was going to go. Furthermore, the 30,000 words I had written were in notebooks that seemed to have gotten lost when I moved.

Aside from the fiction-writing, the site that was paying me to write started presenting just problem after problem. It went from being mediocre to hateful in a very short span of time, so that by the time I'd finished with that for the day, the last thing I felt like doing any more of was writing. Pop Bunker was the exception, as a relatively pressure-free environment where I could just write a few hundred words of what I felt like and know that a couple of nerds would laugh either at or with me over it.

Add to the professional and creative failures this feeling of social detachment because I couldn't afford to go out and do anything, seeing my friends and family depressed at their own crummy work/social/financial/creative situations, homesickness, and middle-of-the-night loneliness, and yeah, I was on team LifeSucks.

but now it's more like:

But then, just standing in the shower one night, this simple, painfully obvious solution to my plot problem just hit me over the head with staggering force. I dried off, made some notes, and decided I'd just start over if I had to, because after that moment of inspiration, I just saw the entire book unfold before me. But wait! There's more! As I rummaged through drawers in search of a pencil sharpener the other night, I found the missing notebooks! After the new revelation, a lot of those 30k or so words are going to end up on the cutting room floor, but there's a lot in there that I want to keep! I started writing the new beginning, and I think it'll shape up nicely.

As for the paying work, I've got a couple of new avenues I'm pursuing. One mostly involves ghostwriting and general online copywriting. The other is a job I'll report to, which has nothing to do with writing, but depending on how it goes, could be an excellent source of income, allow for a pretty flexible schedule, and let me travel a bit - and maybe rack up some frequent flier points, which brings me to the next change.

Socially, well, things are definitely looking up there as well. It seems like lots of friends are finally catching a break here and there, and there's a general upswing in the mood of those around me. I've been able to visit with a friend who's in town for work, spend some time getting to know some newer friends, and catch up at length with some long-standing friends who had fallen out of touch or been stuck in phone-tag limbo. Also, here's where the frequent flier points come in handy - I've met a boy! A really awesome one! It's new and involves a long distance, but I have a really good feeling about it. When I find myself continually looking over my shoulder to see who he's talking to, then realizing with delight that it's actually me... yeah, that's worth putting up with some inconvenient miles and wait-and-seeing.

It had been brought to my attention that I've been lax in my updates of late, but there you have it - so far, the Metal Tiger has been here for two things: to kick ass and chew bubblegum, and he's all out of bubblegum.

Take the Hint (A True Story)

I'm keeping this one all real for a few reasons: 1. It almost doesn't work if I don't use the villain's actual name (and you should beware of this guy if you ever encounter him), and 2. I promised James West that I'd never forgive him for his part in it.

One night back in 2006, I went out for drinks with the girls. Sam, Betsy, and I went to Conklin's Irish Rover, where our friend James was singing. After James finished his set, he sat down and joined us, as did Jeff and Jac (that's not a typo; Jac-with-no-K made it a point to introduce himself as such), who had also come to the pub that night to see James.

As it happened, Sam and Jeff were already acquainted and became engrossed in conversation, catching up since the last time they'd seen each other. That left Betsy to my right, Jac-with-no-K to my left, and James to his left. Even if Jac-with-no-K had been an ordinary Jack, I still would have been instantly turned off by this guy.

It's totally fine if you want to wear a burgundy velour smoking jacket out in public (okay, unless you're Vincent Price, I really don't think it's fine, but if it makes you happy, carry on), but if you wear one and are chain smoking Blacks and mainlining Jameson, I'm afraid you're just not my type. Invade my personal space, blow smoke in my face, interrupt me every time I speak, and boast about how you're barely old enough to drink, yet working on your 3rd DUI, and I will officially despise you.

I like to think that I'm a nice person. Even if I dislike someone, I can usually be civil for the sake of not spoiling the evening for everyone else. This guy, however, was oblivious to my subtle scooting away from him, monosyllabic responses, and even pointedly ignoring him. I think it was the point where he got so bold as to touch me that I forgot that I'm a nice person.

He laid a hand on my shoulder, and I told him, "you'll remove that unless you want to pull back a bloody stump." He did so, but said, "see, this is why I like you!"

I said, "you don't like me. You don't know me. You will never know me well enough to like me. Got it?"

He didn't get it. What he did was later talk James into giving him my phone number (under some pretense of asking me about some book I mentioned, please. James, how could you?) and then proceed to text message me intermittently for the next few months. MONTHS! Usually, I ignored him, but at one point, I got fed up and tried to put a stop to it.

He asked if I wanted to go for a drink and I replied with an emphatic, "NO!"

He asked why, and I said, "because you annoy the f--- out of me and I don't like you!"

He didn't get the hint that time either. I later learned that he'd run into Sam, who is an officer in the Navy, while she was out entertaining some visiting officers from the British Navy. Apparently, Jac-with-no-K insinuated himself into their group despite Sam's multiple protests, and attempted to pump her for information about me.

Eventually, after I just never replied again, he stopped contacting me and no one I know ran into him again.

The moral of the story is... good grief, don't be that guy. I admit that there are some language issues between men and women, but some things are pretty crystal clear, no?

My Only Story with Conan

The end of 2006 to the first part of 2007 was a strange time in my life. I lived in Virginia, but was spending lots of time in North Carolina. I was married, but newly separated. I was a college graduate, but working at a tiny diner in the industrial part of town, waiting tables and doing dishes for the same bunch of roughnecks every day.

On weekdays, I showed up at the diner a little before 6:00 AM, started the coffee, grunted a greeting at Tim, the owner/cook, turned on the radio, and spent a few minutes crying in the bathroom before the first customer arrived. At opening time, it was also time for the Daily Gospel According to Forrest, an obstreperous geezer who thought there was nothing wrong with the world that couldn't be fixed with a well-placed nuclear explosion. Between the Gospel and 10:30, there wasn't much going on. I'd write little stories in the margins of the discarded newspaper and throw things at Tim whenever he said something insensitive - roughly every ten minutes.

Next, lunch: Billy and Huey at the end of the counter - Billy's place with a Diet Coke, Huey with a Sprite. The brothers Harris (no relation to me) at the table in the corner, Ronnie from Maypaw Tire one over, and the guys from the AAA garage would take up the other end of the counter. What a great bunch of guys. It was like Cheers, but without alcohol (and if Carla wasn't pregnant all the time, was double her height, and had purple hair).

The problem with going home after spending all day there was that it was sooooo quiet. So, most Fridays, after the lights were off and the sign was flipped to CLOSED and Tim had been told to go to hell, I drove to my weekend home - Emily's couch in North Carolina. I've known her since 2nd grade, and she was gracious enough to take me in when I needed a break from uncomfortable silence. Aside from the camaraderie and space from my problems, I enjoyed a constant dull roar. Emily has two cats who would rummage and run around, and at least at the time, she had a habit of leaving the TV on all night, tuned to NBC, I guess so she could hear it faintly as white noise in the next room.

Since I was a guest and not bothered by it, I just left the TV on. Those Friday nights, I slept better than I did any other night of the week, drifting off to the antics of Conan O'Brien, in a place where I was at least temporarily safe from the crap that was getting me down. So thanks, Conan, for having stuff like a guy dressed up like a wookiee on your show, and for helping me fall asleep with a smile during a time when those were at a premium.

Mostly True Stories #4

I love that people tell me their stories. My head is full of these memories, details, and endings that I've decided shouldn't stay locked in my head. Therefore, with no specific number in mind, I'll post one a day until I don't feel like doing it anymore or you beg me to stop. I say they'll be mostly true because I will change names and other details that would reveal the subjects' identities. I might also embellish to fill in details where the memory has gotten fuzzy. Before you ask, yes - some of the stories are mine, and while you're welcome to guess, I won't tell which they are. If you know me well and already know the stories, I'll ask you to just bear with me and not rat me out!

Mostly True Story #4: The Cow Whisperer

The "my big, fat..." jokes were not spoiled on Claire when she started dating Aristaeus, who was just about as Greek as they come. They dated off and on for several months, but around the time Ari cited his not having been held enough as a child (did I mention that Ari was a psychology major?) to explain his intimacy issues, Claire was ready to accept that it was over.

Still, like you do when your love life isn't what you'd like it to be, Claire came upon Ari's name in her mental Rolodex and told me she was thinking of calling him up. She had, as the mind cruelly allows us to, romanticized the memory of her time with him and talked herself into believing he really hadn't been that bad. In fact, his little... quirks... had even begun to seem charming.

This is where I felt the need to remind her not only of the "not held enough as a child" thing, but of the last time he got drunk while they were dating. First of all, he drank and drove. Big no-no. If that weren't bad enough though, while he was driving drunk through some farmland, he had what he would later describe as a deep, spiritual experience. You see, he came across this cow... just standing there by the road, and well, all that wine Ari had drunk allowed him to really connect with the cow and see the cosmos in a whole, new... you get the idea. Maybe I'm naïve, but I like to think that most people, upon waking up the next day realizing that they'd had some drunken conversation with livestock, would either be embarrassed or at least work it into a funny story. Is that what Ari did, though? Noooo no no no no, he did not. He really thinks that cow was some kind of messenger of the gods.

The moral of the story: Beware the Cow Whisperers, the ones your mind turns to out of loneliness or sexual frustration, and not because they'd actually be the partner you're trying to convince yourself they could be.

Mostly True Stories #3

I love that people tell me their stories. My head is full of these memories, details, and endings that I've decided shouldn't stay locked in my head. Therefore, with no specific number in mind, I'll post one a day until I don't feel like doing it anymore or you beg me to stop. I say they'll be mostly true because I will change names and other details that would reveal the subjects' identities. I might also embellish to fill in details where the memory has gotten fuzzy. Before you ask, yes - some of the stories are mine, and while you're welcome to guess, I won't tell which they are. If you know me well and already know the stories, I'll ask you to just bear with me and not rat me out!

Mostly True Story #3: Touché

Ebony had, as many of us do from time to time in our lives with mixed results, fallen in love with her best friend. She and Darrel had known each other for years, and she finally realized that he was the one guy who'd always been there for her. Unfortunately, this realization came about after he'd started seeing Tiffany, whom Ebony had managed to avoid meeting for a couple of months by the time this story took place.

Darrel was an avid fencer, and had just gotten a job as the new fencing teacher at the rec. center. To support her friend and to spend time with him, Ebony signed up for the class. She was one of the first to arrive on the first day of class, and took a seat between the only other two students to have gotten there. One of them was half-asleep, but the other struck up conversation and kept it coming to pass the time until class started.

Once they were suited up in protective gear and had their swords, Darrel had the students break off into pairs, so Ebony and the girl she'd been chatting with chose to partner up. Through the course of the class, the two earned lots of stern looks from Darrel, as they just couldn't keep straight faces as they went through the motions of the exercises. Finally, as Ebony's partner had just stabbed the fencing sword into the padding over Ebony's heart with an emphatic "touché!" Darrel strolled over to have a word with them.

"Well, I'm glad the two of you have hit it off at least," he said to the pair, still holding their pose and suppressing giggles. Well, Ebony's giggles subsided as the staggering symbolism hit her: how ironic that it should be Tiffany holding a weapon (a blunt one, but still) to her heart after they'd instantly become friends.

"It's a good thing you never confided in your new friend how you felt about the teacher!" I said to Ebony when she told me this story.

"Yeah," she agreed, "if I'd done that, then I'd have just gone out to the freeway, laid down in the center lane and let nature take its course!" She went on to tell me that what she had done was get the hell out of there the instant class was over and tried to just go about the rest of her day.

She'd promised her roommate that she'd stop by the grocery store on her way home from class to pick up something to make for dinner. She got to the store, but as soon as she set foot inside, she realized that she'd been so shaken by her encounter with Tiffany that she'd completely forgotten everything she was supposed to buy. Of course, the battery on her cell phone was dead and she'd failed to write her shopping list down.

"So what did you do?" I asked her.

"I did what any sane, rational woman would do in that situation," she replied. "I bought cookies. Lots and lots of cookies."

Somehow, I don't think her roommate could blame her.

Mostly True Stories #1

I love that people tell me their stories. My head is full of these memories, details, and endings that I've decided shouldn't stay locked in my head. Therefore, with no specific number in mind, I'll post one a day until I don't feel like doing it anymore or you beg me to stop. I say they'll be mostly true because I will change names and other details that would reveal the subjects' identities. I might also embellish to fill in details where the memory has gotten fuzzy. Before you ask, yes - some of the stories are mine, and while you're welcome to guess, I won't tell which they are. If you know me well and already know the stories, I'll ask you to just bear with me and not rat me out!

Mostly True Story #1: It Really Does Happen

This is the story that inspired this exercise, and I think it's one of the best things that's ever happened. It's a short tale, but a sweet one.

Maeve was 18 years old when she got on an airplane for the first time in her life. Her big sister Belle had left Ireland the year before to get married in America, and she'd asked Maeve to come and housesit for her while she and her husband went on a long trip away. Excited and nervous, Maeve arrived in California only to find that she instantly felt at home.

On her first day alone, she went out to explore the town. During her outing, she met Miguel, a Mexican-American guy about her age, who was newly enlisted in the Army. She'd never seen anyone so beautiful in her life, and she knew she wanted to be with him always. And wouldn't you know, Miguel saw her too.

When Belle returned home a few weeks later and met her new brother-in-law, she was shocked and convinced that Maeve and Miguel would never last. I have faith though. By the time I was sitting on the sun-porch, drinking iced tea and bantering with their parrot, Maeve and Miguel were expecting a visit from their youngest daughter, who was bringing her own daughter over for a visit. I think this marriage is gonna stick.

There you have it: love at first sight. It happened, and I swear that part is true.

"You Can Waste Time With Your Friends When Your Chores are Done"

When I was in high school and college, I worked at a shiny new ice rink that opened up not long after my group of friends had decided that we liked ice skating and it was officially Our Thing. As a result, lots of us ended up getting jobs there and becoming fast friends with the other coworkers who stuck around for any significant length of time. After we closed on Saturday nights, after the busiest and most stressful sessions, we had a habit of unwinding at the IHOP until the wee hours of the morning. It was great - all of us so loopy by that point that we thought it was hilarious every single time Scott Lyons ordered onion rings and upon their being delivered to the table, would hold one up to the waiter or waitress and say, "look, sir, droids!"

It wasn't much, but it's those little things that get you through. I miss having things like that, and I wonder if it's not a big part of the reason I've been such a chronic procrastinator lately. I don't know a whole lot of people in my new town yet, and I don't have any rituals or standing plans to look forward to at the end of a day of hard work. So what happens? I end up not working so hard, because even though the reward is a paycheck, it's delayed and practically intangible as it goes straight from source to bank account to bills that need paid.

Therefore, here's another New Year's resolution: find something to look forward to at the end of every work day. Maybe it'll be a visit to some cool spot I've been told about. Maybe it'll be a walk to the coffee shop for a latte. Maybe it'll be a visit to a friend. Just... something I can put on my calendar as an appointment I've made, which can only be done once the paying work is done.

There Must Have Been Some Magic

I wrote earlier this year, here, about my cousin Vicki, who I've continued to think about throughout my life, though we hadn't seen each other or spoken in nearly two decades. If you look at that old post, and scroll to the comments, you'll see what I found last week - a new comment from Vicki herself. As of this writing, I'm happy to give the update that we've shared a few emails now and we're both excited at the chance to get to know each other as the grown women we've become. Michael tells me this is a bona-fide Christmas Miracle™, and I don't disagree.

Because Vicki told me, much to my delight, that she's still a huge Bon Jovi fan, here you go:



My wish for you is that every day, you have a little of the peace and kindness associated with this time of year. So many people say they love Christmas because it's the one day everyone tries to get along. What if, in that sense, every day was like Christmas? Just think about that.

Whatever you're celebrating today, whether it's Christmas, a holiday associated with your religion, or simply another day that you've woken up to life on this planet, I wish you all imaginable happiness. To those I love, may you know how desolate I would be without you.

My One Piece of Advice

This goes out to all aspiring... anything really! I'm going to speak mostly to writers, because that's what I am and what I know, but I know actors, musicians, artists, craftsmen, and owners of all kinds of businesses who would agree with the one piece of advice I'm going to give you about how to succeed in your chosen field.

Are you ready?

Here it is: Use Twitter.

Hush your mouth if you just read that and started protesting because there's too much spam or too many idiots on there to make it worth your time. Are you hushed? I'll say it again.

Use Twitter.

It's that simple. You want me to show my math now, don't you? I suppose that's fair. I'll give you a glimpse of my network. I'll name them at the end, but these are writers I get to interact with, sometimes just commenting on daily life, but often talking shop as well. We all bring different things to the table, including our own areas of expertise, education, personalities, and yes, contacts. In the list I'll share with you, I'm only including those I've actually exchanged dialogue with. There are many more I follow because I like what they have to say and/or because they post helpful links and tips. I follow and communicate with more than just writers, but we'll stick to them for this post. If you'd like an introduction to some good folks in another industry, just ask. If you're already on Twitter, what are you reading this thing for? Skip to the end and consider it my ultimate #FollowFriday post.

I know it can be intimidating, this vast sea of names and brief bios. You may be wondering where to start, who to follow, and what to do with followers once you've got them. Luckily, it's very simple: join the conversation. You know what Twitter really is? It's a chatroom that isn't limited to any one topic. You get to tailor your own environment to be populated by people who share your interests. It becomes this great Venn-diagram of people with whom you can discuss any (and I mean any) topic under the sun.

Are there spammers and idiots out there? Of course they are, but there's an easy solution: don't follow them. Block and report the spammers, and if you don't like what someone is posting, you don't have to follow them. Is that a little bit of a hassle once in a while, sure, but let me put it this way: every single writing job, paid or unpaid, that I have gotten in the past year can be directly traced to a contact I made on Twitter. Every one, without exception, fiction and nonfiction. Think about that. I have added to my resume, gotten my name out there, gained the experience that prospective employers want, honed my craft, and because it doesn't actually go without saying, made some friends and had fun. I have done all of this without it costing me anything but time and effort, and let's face it, if you're not willing to spend that, you're not going to be successful at anything.

Okay, now your prize for suffering through my lecture! I promised you a peek into my little black book, and so here they are, some of (by no means all!) my favorite writer-people, in alphabetical order with just a few words about who they are:

• @AlexBledsoe: Published novelist, loves his family, can quote Phantom of the Paradise!
• @babesmcphee: Playwright and member of the Sacred Fools Theater Company. Her blog can be found here.
• @BeTheBoy: His blog often makes me want to die laughing until I remember it's non-fiction, and then sometimes I want to cry. His wife is @slackmistress, who is a professional writer with her own blog and list of sites where her work can be found (including @ValemontU). Their @DaisyJDog is also on Twitter, and is always good about reminding us of the simple things in life. Why stress out too much about having a bath, when there is sure to be cake later, from @SusinaBakery (you see how it spirals out?)?
• @coderster: Participates on PoetryAssignment, maintains her blog, and will be her area's NaNoWriMo Municipal Liason this year!
• @CorbSilverthorn: The irrepressable Editor of Silverthorn Press. As passionate about the craft as he is silly, which is to say, quite a bit.
• @David_N_Wilson: He does it all - writer, blogger, NaNoWriMo winner, and tireless fount of encouragement and useful advice.
• @drunken_hopfrog: Mastermind behind PopBunker.net, where no cultural phenomenon is safe.
• @ElwoodJBlues: A new voice on the pop culture blog scene. His personal blog has been entertaining us for a while now, but he's branching out, contributing to the @ComicStop's blog and more.
• @GeoffJohns0: Okay, I haven't exactly had dialogue with him, per se, but he once sent me a Direct Message, so I'm counting it because it makes me feel special to include Geoff Johns on this list. You'd do it too, and you know it.
• @hownottowrite: The best writing cheerleader on Twitter! Every day, he produces these oh-so-quotable messages that just keep you going! Also, his avatar is King Moonracer. You can't beat that.
• @joethepeacock: The most successful self-published writer I've ever known! Whatever he's doing over there, he's doing it right. He blogs, too!
  
• @JohnnySix: evil genius behind The Twitter Novel Project (@tweet_book), to which @blondie80 has also contributed supplemental material. Also, he controls the weather. I've seen him do it.
  
• @jsmithready: Writer of urban fantasy novels gracing the shelves of a bookstore near you! Her characters, @ShaneMcAllister and @CiaraGriffin tweet, as does her cat, @Misha_Guy. In her spare time, she enjoys flamingo ping-pong.
• @melissaoyler: Graphic designer! Blogger! Novelist! NaNoWriMo winner! Cheerleader! PoetryAssignment editor! I could go on!
  
• @michaelrholmes: Renaissance man with firm standing in most segments of the Venn-diagram currently asserts his right to stand in the writers' circle with his adaptation of Forbidden Zone. Also actor of stage and screen on the other side of the script!
  
• @neilhimself: I couldn't leave Neil Gaiman off this list, even though my interaction with him has been limited to one book signing and a brief exchange on Twitter about fountain pen ink. Mr. Gaiman sets a high bar for good writing citizenship, and I think we would all do well to follow his examples.
  
• @PointlessBanter: as you might have guessed, the editor of PointlessBanter.net. If you like funny, check it out. If you write funny, he might let you guest blog!
  
• @shadowsinstone: Her characters jump right out of their stories and make you believe vampires are real and among us, getting drunk, falling in love, and ready to hit on you or insult you depending on their moods. @crookedfang is my favorite, but don't tell him I said that.
  
• @stina8753: Frequent collaborator with @shadowsinstone while maintaining a separate body of work. She's completed one novel and is continuing to forge ahead with her bright writing future. Her characters tweet too, with @unpleasantries at the top of the list.
  
• @the0phrastus: Another man who wears many hats, or maybe one great, big, multi-colored hat with patches of words, paint, and magic.
  

Writing is largely a solitary occupation, especially for freelancers and those others who work from home. Thanks to Twitter, though, it doesn't have to be quiet, lonely work. If a co-worker is someone who works along with you in the same occupation, you get to have them - as many as you want, there to bounce ideas off of, commiserate with, and network with.

In Blackest Day, In Tightest Tights...

You may or may not be aware that, for reasons not entirely clear even to me, I suddenly decided I'm reading comics again. I'm picking up things here and there as recommendations pique my interest, but mostly, it's all about Green Lantern and Blackest Night. This has turned out to be a pretty awesome endeavor. Not only am I really enjoying the books, but it's turned out to be a multi-media interactive extravaganza!

Todd, because he's awesome, sent me some black power rings upon learning that I didn't have one, and I shared them with Chip and Sam:

After setting that picture of myself as my userpic on Twitter, I got a direct message from Geoff Johns himself, saying, "nice ring!! ;)" The guys tell me that this is because being both a nerd and a girl gets me bumped to the front of the line, a gender bias they find most unfair.

To support this new Green Lantern habit (and because he's awesome), Michael sent me the new First Flight cartoon dvd, complete with bonus Duck Dodgers (IN THE 24 AND 1/2 CENTURYYYY!!) Green Loontern episode (I mean, how cool is that?!). My inner child reveleth big time.

Following this, I've really enjoyed the discussions about various aspects of the characters and storylines. Most of my questions are met with a resounding chorus of "just keep reading!" and of course, they're right, but I especially love that I know the kind of people who can have a conversation about comic books as literature and philosophy.

Join me on this adventure, won't you? It should still be pretty easy to find Blackest Night #1 (and maybe even #0 if you ask the folks at your Local Comic Shop reaaaaaallllly nicely!)!

Why I'm Grateful for Broken Sunglasses

The day got off to a rotten start. No details; just trust me. It was a bad morning. After spending my lunch break ranting and in tears about it, I went on to have my next appointment blow me off. On the way to the appointment after that, my sunglasses broke. Just... broke. Fell right off my face in pieces with no jarring or anything. It was just their time.

After that appointment, I looked at the address for the next one and realized there was a Sunglass Hut in the same little shopping district and figured I could stop there and get a decent pair, which I'd been meaning to do anyway. I walked in and was greeted by the nicest sales clerk I've ever encountered. Actually, it turned out he was the store manager. He found me what I wanted and kept a friendly stream of conversation going while I checked out. In talking to him, I learned that his aunt very recently died of breast cancer, and that he and his mother had just been talking about trying to find some way they could get involved with raising funds and awareness for research and patient services. Guess what I do for a living. I hooked him up with everything he needs to get a team going for Making Strides Against Breast Cancer - paperwork, t-shirt, all that good stuff. By the time I left, we were both in tears and he was squeezing the life out of me with a big hug. He didn't even laugh at me when I walked right into the storefront window, thinking it was the open door.

Now, I'm not only the proud owner of a pair of decent glasses with polarized lenses, but I made a friend and feel like I'm doing a good job, even if the hard numbers don't always agree. Hooray for broken sunglasses.

Busy, busy, busy.

I brought you flours.

I have had several conversations in the past week or so (in person, via email, on Twitter and Facebook) that have, in some form or other, touched on the subject of romantic relationships - the potential for them, what to do in various situations once they've been entered into, whether this or that is worth putting up with, working through, fighting over, or fighting for - concerning myself, various friends, and even my mom. If the run-on nature of that sentence isn't enough to convey how dizzying it all is, then you are probably very stable, level-headed, and smug-married with boring friends.


This Wednesday's Stranger Than Fiction topic: Love.

Do you know the word stumblejohn? I didn't until recently, when I learned that that's the word for what I am when it comes to expressing matters of the heart. Harold Crick, for example, is a classic stumblejohn, though not an irredeemable one. He does manage to go from sitting alone while the beautiful Ana hates him with all her might on the other side of the window, to living happily ever after on a diet of cookies and love, and all it took was the constant threats of impending death issued by a disembodied voice to give him some perspective.

I'm not sure where Harold's hangups came from, but for me, I think it has to do with trying to balance the desire to be honest and take a risk that might be worth it versus the desire to not be exposed to heartache or embarrassment. Oddly enough, this holds true for both potential beginnings and endings, if the ending is one of those "we just grew apart" kinds of things. Sometimes the feelings that suddenly need to be discussed are our own; sometimes, the issue is that we're getting a vibe from someone else. Sometimes, it's a combination of the two, and that, my friends is the kryptonite of the quixotic stumblejohn.

To quote another fictional expert on relationship ruination, Greg House, M.D. issued one of my favorite lines when it comes to this sort of debacle. He said, "it might not be easy, but it is simple," or something to that effect, and I couldn't agree more. The simplicity lies in having to choose from one of only two options: speak up, or don't. The hard part comes after that. If you decide to speak, there comes the agonizing over choosing the right words to say exactly what you mean with the right levels of class and dignity. This is especially difficult if there's a friendship you want to preserve - whether you're wanting to remain friends after breaking up, or you want to remain friends in spite of the other person possibly not sharing your more-than-platonic feelings. If you stay silent, then you have to watch the opportunity pass you by and wonder what might have happened if you'd had a little more courage.

Harold, of course, gets it just right. Ana is a baker who deals in blunt honesty but has a sense of humor, so his one-two combo of "I brought you flours," and "I want you" is a solid win. Hell, that'd work on me.

Despite the title of their movie, this I feel is too strange to be anything but fiction. Harold and Ana are clearly a couple of messed-up individuals, but neither of them really seems to have any baggage. I just listened to the audio recording of David Sedaris's When You Are Engulfed In Flames, and in one of the stories, he hit on a point that pretty much sums it all up. Once you've experienced heartache, you are then officially in posession of Relationship Baggage, and your only real hope of a successful relationshp in the future lies in finding someone whose baggage goes with yours, so you can have a complete set.

I actually think that's a fairly realistic hope, and I suppose that's why I do eventually manage to muster just barely enough courage to speak up, even if my best efforts tend to wind up nowhere near as clear and sophisticated as I'd like them to be. Instead, the outcome seems to effectively be the same as if I'd tried to ask someone how many quarts are in a gallon, and getting a response informing me that the square root of 4 is 2. Both parties are most likely wondering what the hell the other is talking about, and not entirely sure where to go with it.

This is why it amazes the hell out of me when I realize that I actually know quite a few happily paired couples. I wonder what would happen if I go back to:

No, YOU grow up!

My friend Chip and I have a long-standing tradition of odd middle-of-the-night conversations. If you're not new to my blather here, you know that this is mostly because we both just happen to be nocturnal by nature and have a Star Wars quote for every occasion, not to mention that we have the kind of friendship that withstands dead relatives who interrupt and the fact that The Great Hemingway vs. Austen Debate will likely never be settled. The 2:00 a.m. phone calls have increased of late, as he's working the graveyard shift, gets lonely, and knows I'm still up.

Last night, Chip and I somehow got to talking about things we'd change about The Way Things Are if we were given our druthers. I said I felt like it would be a good idea if, instead of automatically considering every 18 year-old an adult (and conversely, everyone under that age not an adult), one would be legally regarded an adult once he or she had completed a checklist of accomplishments. That way, exceptional young people who truly understand what it is to be a good citizen could vote, and 30 year-olds who still don't know their asses from holes in the ground could not.
Chip suggested we each come up with a list of 20 things that'd be on our checklists and trade to see how many things overlap, and how many things we've completed from each other's lists. This was to be done quickly, just off the top of the head, so the lists are by no means comprehensive or immune to argument. Here are the results:

My list with his responses*

1. Job: answer phones ...many
2. Job: front desk/direct customer service Almost all my jobs
3. Job: handle money (cashier, payroll, bank teller...) Done
4. Teach - can be in a classroom, a group of boyscouts, whomever. Looking good so far
5. Work in food service Got it
6. Work with the elderly ...not my strong suit
7. Work with children I worked with [a man-child we both know], does that count?
8. Gain understanding of basic rudiments of some art form - a musical instrument, painting, sculpting, acting, whatever Guitar
9. Read at least one entire novel and one entire non-fiction book Uh, yeah! Do we get extra credit for writing one?
10. Known how to change oil, flat tire, & check fluids in your car I heard that in a class somewhere once
11. Sleep outdoors overnight When I drove cross country
12. Plan and execute a meal (and have no one die of food poisoning) good call on the food poisoning.
13. Learn enough of a foreign language to introduce yourself, obtain basic necessities, and understand basic directions to a destination Spanish, though if you mean understand directions, they would have to point...
14. Participate in a team sport (incl. understanding all relevant rules of play and participating long enough to have won and lost at least one bout each) Good one. Football.
15. Attend a religious service of a faith different from your own [yes]
16. Job: retail grocery store. Or my folks' bike shop
17. Be responsible for the health and well-being for an animal (or at least a high-maint. plant) Puppies!
18. Travel outside your familiar community (spend at least a day among those who are not "your people") [yes]
19. Work in public service (at least in an administrative capacity for police, fire, rescue, etc.) Almost done!
20. Speak in public ...I have, in fact, spoken aloud in a communal area.

*edited somewhat for space & relevance, though he'll probably chide me for omitting some of his snark at my expense.

His list with my responses

1. work at a job where you are paid in tips (3 months) Hole in the wall diner.
   
2. work at a job doing manual labor (3 months) Ice rink - if you count having to clean the place, sharpen skates, and do basic maint. as part of the duties of the job as manual labor.
   
3. work in retail (3 months) 2 bookstores
   
4. work a job where you have to wear a uniform (3 months) Umpire...
   
5. wash, dry, and iron your own clothes (1 year) Yep.
   
6. plunge a toilet Yep.
7. have a non-family member as a roommate (6 months) Luke, Joe, Betsy, Emily, Erin, Paul, Delia, Carrsha
   
8. mow you own lawn Tricky - mowed lawns, but I've never owned a lawn
   
9. cook a meal for 4+ people (dishes included) Many, many times.
   
10. drive somewhere more then 8 hours away I think the 63K miles on my [2 year old] car are testament
    
11. support yourself independently (one year) Barely sometimes...
    
12. learn to sew a button Yep.
13. learn to change a tire and your oil I wasn't allowed to drive until I could.
    
14. learn to swim The hard way. Fell in the lake.
    
15. learn CPR Yep.
16. spend a week in a city where you know no one Does that count traveling companion? If not, then yes. I definitely didn't know anyone who hadn't come with me in London, Quebec, or Paris. It's unlikely I'd ever move to a place where I didn't know anyone, and nearly equally as unlikely that I'd travel for a week-long trip to such a place alone. If I were going for a day or so, I might, but I'd almost certainly take a friend for a week-long trip.
    
17. ride some form of public transportation On two continents
    
18. spend a night in the hospital (ER counts) No, not unless infancy counts. I have spent an entire day to very late at night, then come back subsequent days when a friend was on suicide watch.
    
19. Get hit (play a contact sport, get in a fight, car accident, something like that) Hockey
20. keep a pet or plant alive for 2 years (no cheating) Yes, plants and shared responsibility for pets.

Outcome: He needs to brush up on his Spanish & work with the elderly. I need to suffer some grievous health issue and be more independent. We did both include notes that allowed for things like physical limitations and living situation. Also, it seems like both of our lists are focused on self-sufficiency and the ability to understand those from different walks of life, so that one might be a more compassionate citizen who makes choices motivated by more than pure self-interest. This is hardly surprising to me since he and I have managed to become and remain very good friends who have widely differing origins, experiences, and career paths ourselves.

What do you think? What would be on your list?

Mirror, Mirror

When I was in high school, I had a friend who, despite being pretty, kind, and interesting, had the worst taste in boyfriends you could imagine. Seriously, it got to the point where we were no longer surprised to get collect calls in the middle of the night from Inmate du Jour.

One afternoon, this friend - we'll call her Adora - had invited another friend - and we'll call her Jerrica - and me over to hang out so she could lament the precarious status of her relationship with a boy we'll refer to as Zartan, the current ankle-bracelet-bedecked jackass who was wasting her time. We let her go on for a while, until finally, Jerrica and I could stand it no longer. We were tired of seeing Adora teamed up with some scumbag who wouldn't deserve to kiss her feet, much less treat her like the dirt beneath them. Our solution was simple. From that point forward, whenever Adora would mention his name, we forced her to look in the mirror and recite:

"I am beautiful. I am wonderful. Zartan is a pig."

This went on for weeks. We really did drag her to the nearest shiny surface and make her say the words every time. Eventually, it became something of a mantra for us, long after Zartan had been replaced by another winner.

There will always be people who don't deserve our attention, but get it anyway. There will be things that shouldn't bother us, but do.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to find something reflective. Where's Destro when I need him?

What We Keep

We all have this stuff that seems to travel with us as we move through life. Contemplating my future has also made me contemplate the things I'll take with me. As I'm downsizing, (the goal is to have everything I own except furniture fit in my car) I find myself asking "why do I have this?" an awful lot. I've decided that if I can't come up with a good answer quickly, I probably don't need to hang on to it. I am kind of a sentimentalist, though, so some things that aren't useful as anything other than good juju do make the cut:

(click to enlarge)

1. Drumhead signed by the mighty Robo (Memory / piece of music history)
   
2. Cthulhu (Memory: bought with Scott at the creepy Hampton comic shop at 2 in the morning)
   
3. Dummy Winslow Leach (I made it. Could foresee giving to one of a few people)
   
4. A beanie baby (Memory / sentimental value: my cousin Millie left on the dashboard of my first car)
5. Chibi-Cthulhu (Gift: sculpted just for me as a Christmas gift from Mary)
   
6. A unicorn (Gift / memory: from Sam, once sat on my desk at work as an inside joke)
7. The most recent handful (out of a gazillion) Red Rose Tea animals my grandmother keeps giving me (Gift, yes, but good grief, I have to figure out what to do with these creatures before they take over)
   
8. The remnants of a vast Marvin the Martian collection I'd amassed in high school (Gifts)
   
9. Half of a wire sculpture Jeanne gave me 15 years ago (Gift / memory)
   
10. Pink, sparkly Emperor Palpatine (Gift)
    
11. Blue Lisa Snellings Poppet (Bought it because I love her work & wanted a piece)
    
12. COBRA action figures (Gift)
    
13. Wooden sculpture I got out of a vending machine with Melissa (Memory)
    
14. Jade carvings my mom brought back from China (Gift / Memory
    
15. The King (Gift, doesn't really apply to this topic since it's not like I'll keep putting up an expired calendar, but it's in the picture.)
    

Little Souvenirs of a Colorful Year

There's this episode of the Golden Girls (what, you got jokes?) where Dorothy is attempting to explain to Blanche how she's been feeling lately, and having a hard time describing it.
"Magenta," says Blanche. You're a little sad, but you wouldn't say you were blue, and a little jealous, but not quite green with envy, and somewhat scared, but not so much that you're yellow... and she hates that feeling, and she hates the color magenta, so that's why she calls it that.

I'm with Blanche. Most of the time, I try to think positive, have faith that everything is going to work out, look at the glass as half-full. I get magenta sometimes, though, but like the Girls, I'm also lucky enough to have friends to get me through it and put up with me during it.

This year has so far brought lots of endings - professional, personal, and otherwise. Since most of them weren't of my choosing, it's really easy to get depressed about it if I think of it that way. I'm hoping that nature will take its course though, and have some new beginnings to follow the endings.

I wasn't happy in my old job, and I've applied for some I think could be rewarding in ways other than just paying enough Green to squeak by on the bills. It could happen that I have to settle short-term, but I've sort of rededicated myself to my professional goals. I've done some networking, and made some good contacts and feel good about how I'm putting my skills and education to work, even if I'm not seeing that green yet.

I've loved and lost, but I've also learned. In past loves, either I couldn't really be myself, or I lost myself and lost sight of what else there was to life, so that my entire world seemed meaningless when it was over. Now I know better. Now I know it's worth it to hold out for the guy who (may not actually exist, but) will neither just put up with me nor completely eclipse me. If I can't be with a guy who is a true equal - in support and understanding as well as affection and music libraries - then, I'll just wait. I'll be Brown. Sally Brown, hanging out in the pumpkin patch, waiting for someone Great.

I've been quasi-nomadic, feeling like neither of the places I could refer to as home really are. Don't get me wrong, my mom's house will always be home, where I'll always know I have a place and be accepted. The thing is, I want home to also mean a place that's really mine, where I can grow and make a life for myself. Some people think I'm crazy when I talk about how badly I want to move to California. My friend Joel, who lives there already, warned me that when I came to visit, I'd never want to leave. I argued, but in the end, he was so right. If I'd had the means to just stay and send for my things, I'd have done so. Now? I'm back on the opposite side of the country, but when I build my list of steps I have to take next, with the summit being the move to the Golden State, it just feels right.

So, here's to new beginnings... may they begin soon!

Sound Body

I started the Couch-to-5k running schedule about a month ago, and did really well with the first week, then little by little, I placed other things higher on the list of priorities. I won't go into what, but most of it didn't belong on the list at all, much less placed above my physical well-being.

Today I'm back on schedule, and Week 2, Day 1 dictates: Brisk five-minute warmup walk. Then alternate 90 seconds of jogging and two minutes of walking for a total of 20 minutes, plus stretching and cooling down. The following playlist will be my stopwatch, telling me when to run and walk:

1. Take Me To The River - Talking Heads: 5:03 (warmup)
   
2. Distance Equals Rate Times Time - Pixies: 1:24
3. No Brakes - The Offspring: 2:04
4. Blacklight - Misfits: 1:28
5. California Sun - The Ramones: 2:03
6. You Gotta Feel It - Spoon: 1:29
7. We Who Wait - The Adverts: 2:02
8. Scopes - Bauhaus: 1:29
9. Rock N Roll Vacation In L.A. - Youth Gone Mad: 2:02
10. In The Street Today - The Jam: 1:33
11. Song 2 - Blur: 2:01
12. She's Automatic - Rancid: 1: 35
13. Love Me - The Cramps: 2:00
14. Final Solution - Pere Ubu: 5:00 (cool-down/stretch)

I'm determined to take control over that which I can. Job or no job, personal problems or none, I do have the final say in this. I have the technology. I can rebuild me.


With any luck, this will be Melissa and me in the not-too-distant future!