I've been scrambling to finish chapters, fill in at odd jobs, wrapping up an article and enjoying my family for Christmas (quiet this year, just us and I glazed a ham and help bake a cranberry-walnut pie). And tomorrow at 4:30 AM, for all intents and purposes TONIGHT, I leave for South America!
First up, Colombia...with many many stories to come, hope you are all having a wonderful holiday and I'll tell you how Cartegena does New Year's...
And I'm off...but not gone by a longshot...
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
Japanese Cat Humiliation
Today I've got lunch with a Top Chef judge (we go way back) and must get my book in halfway decent shape and printed out for my writing partner to look at while I get tan on the beaches of Colombia for the next few weeks.
Life is pretty cool. But, there is so much to do before the holidays, the birthdays that fall right on or before the holidays (that's a few people in my life) and the book (have edited and really tightened and now love pages 1-148, the second half is in shambles and I cannot vouch for it, but have cut about 23 pages in total by going through every page and cutting a line here and a line there)
But then, how can I do any work when it's snowing outside my window and there's Japanese Cat Humiliation to watch?
Life is pretty cool. But, there is so much to do before the holidays, the birthdays that fall right on or before the holidays (that's a few people in my life) and the book (have edited and really tightened and now love pages 1-148, the second half is in shambles and I cannot vouch for it, but have cut about 23 pages in total by going through every page and cutting a line here and a line there)
But then, how can I do any work when it's snowing outside my window and there's Japanese Cat Humiliation to watch?
Monday, December 15, 2008
Do As I Say, Not As I Do
A great quote from my dad who used it when I would plaintively point out that he was breaking a cardinal rule he set forth for me: get your chores done before you engage in any play (little did I know that every phone call he ever took was about work--I saw the phone as made only for planning playdates not scheduling the electrician), don't skip meals (here he was too busy doing chores to eat--what can I say, I've never met harder working folks than both my parents), and so forth.
I'm hardworking too, I swear. But the economy doesn't want me to be: full-time writing jobs slashed across all magazines in the building, even my fun and very regular food-writing has vanished (and my boss, and my boss's boss--gone in a flash). So I'm going in a flash. To Colombia and Panama for 3 weeks. More backpacking, more money I don't have. Because I've got the time and at 27 years old, do I ever have any time?
And at 28 and 29 I'll be paying for it. I should be deep in the throes of pre-30s depression by then so hey, why not.
So, any of you been? Have recommendations? Remember, I survived Nicaragua and I'm only going to the safest of places in Colombia...
Anyone else just up and doing something crazy since the job market tanked?
I'm hardworking too, I swear. But the economy doesn't want me to be: full-time writing jobs slashed across all magazines in the building, even my fun and very regular food-writing has vanished (and my boss, and my boss's boss--gone in a flash). So I'm going in a flash. To Colombia and Panama for 3 weeks. More backpacking, more money I don't have. Because I've got the time and at 27 years old, do I ever have any time?
And at 28 and 29 I'll be paying for it. I should be deep in the throes of pre-30s depression by then so hey, why not.
So, any of you been? Have recommendations? Remember, I survived Nicaragua and I'm only going to the safest of places in Colombia...
Anyone else just up and doing something crazy since the job market tanked?
Friday, December 12, 2008
Can't stop watching this.
Yes I know by now it's totally played out, but by now I know all the words and I'm a Lonely Island fan ever since "The 'Bu". Did you know Andy Samberg is dating Joanna Newsom? This is true--I'm just glad Peach, Plum, Pear didn't leech into this.
I love this on so many levels...
My favorite line is "Got a few things from the grocery, do things alone now, most-ly."
Am I the only one who might actually buy this album?
I love this on so many levels...
My favorite line is "Got a few things from the grocery, do things alone now, most-ly."
Am I the only one who might actually buy this album?
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
Editing a book is hard
"The limitation of the great stylists--Henry James, say, or Hemingway, is that you remember their voices long after you've forgotten the voices of any of the people they wrote about. In one of the Psalms, God says, 'Be still and know that I am God.' I've always taken that to be good literary advice too. Be still the way Tolstoy is still, be still the way Anthony Trollope is still, so that your characters can become gods and speak for themselves and come alive in their own ways."
--Frederick Buechner
--Frederick Buechner
Sunday, December 07, 2008
Reeling
Ever have an encounter that you thought you could essentially handle and then when it comes upon you, you've been prepping yourself by drinking glasses of wine on an empty stomach in a sparkly dress and catching up with your best friend and then you're finally confronted by a confusing slapdash of film shorts that may or *may very well not be* brilliant in any form and you run into your ex who you prepared for seeing for three months and even a few short hours before had spoke to on the phone and laughed about seeing each other and it was really, really weird and you felt like you had to explain why things were the way they were, or ended how they did, or where you are now and who you spend your time with instead, and all that comes out is some sort of broken whimper and an awkward joke and both of you leaving the party reeling?
No?
Oh, ok, just me then. This is why I need to stop dating, settle the hell down like the rest of my friends and start having babies. But then, I really, really like my apartment.
No?
Oh, ok, just me then. This is why I need to stop dating, settle the hell down like the rest of my friends and start having babies. But then, I really, really like my apartment.
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Advice
My bff is applying to business school. She's got some essays. She wants some advice. Enter in Pandora's Box.
This just happened with an article I wrote. I showed it to someone after it had been factchecked, changed by my editor to fit the magazine's style (while retaining the most choice lines). I asked someone to check it out, thinking that they would want to hire me for something else.
Wrong. They didn't like the style of the article. But that was the whole point of the article (seriously, I'm the first one to admit when I write crapola--it happens more than I'd like to think).
So, back to the business school essay. Or the person who doesn't have the balls to quit their job, break up with the boy, move to the new city. Do they want to bitch or do they want advice?
Or do they just want you to tell them they're right? Judging from my own experience, I say they want you to tell them they're right. Brilliant. That they can't change a word or a single situation without a whole deck of cards falling. Sad perhaps, but very true.
Now off to tell an essay is brilliant! Because at this point, it's going to be handed in tomorrow. At this point, being the a-hole who has suggestions on changing the entire theme is going to make me the bad guy, not the hero. Because at this point, my friend is a beautiful person, and if her essay doesn't reflect that, hell if I'll be the one to tell her...
Call me a coward all you like...but don't tell me you wouldn't do the same, late in the game? Once the article has been published, once the package is in the mail, once the talk has been had and the email has been sent, what the hell else are you supposed to do? I'll tell you. You say this, "I've done this. I'm sharing it with you because I'm insecure. The only thing, and I repeat, the ONLY thing I want from you is to tell me it's amazing. Cool?"
The world might be a better place if we did these things, don't you think?
This just happened with an article I wrote. I showed it to someone after it had been factchecked, changed by my editor to fit the magazine's style (while retaining the most choice lines). I asked someone to check it out, thinking that they would want to hire me for something else.
Wrong. They didn't like the style of the article. But that was the whole point of the article (seriously, I'm the first one to admit when I write crapola--it happens more than I'd like to think).
So, back to the business school essay. Or the person who doesn't have the balls to quit their job, break up with the boy, move to the new city. Do they want to bitch or do they want advice?
Or do they just want you to tell them they're right? Judging from my own experience, I say they want you to tell them they're right. Brilliant. That they can't change a word or a single situation without a whole deck of cards falling. Sad perhaps, but very true.
Now off to tell an essay is brilliant! Because at this point, it's going to be handed in tomorrow. At this point, being the a-hole who has suggestions on changing the entire theme is going to make me the bad guy, not the hero. Because at this point, my friend is a beautiful person, and if her essay doesn't reflect that, hell if I'll be the one to tell her...
Call me a coward all you like...but don't tell me you wouldn't do the same, late in the game? Once the article has been published, once the package is in the mail, once the talk has been had and the email has been sent, what the hell else are you supposed to do? I'll tell you. You say this, "I've done this. I'm sharing it with you because I'm insecure. The only thing, and I repeat, the ONLY thing I want from you is to tell me it's amazing. Cool?"
The world might be a better place if we did these things, don't you think?
Monday, December 01, 2008
Quote of the Day
"You know there is something wrong in the twenty four hours between sharing homemade pumpkin pie and creamed parsnips you find another girl's panties in his apartment."
All guys scumbags? No, no, no that can't be true!
"Here's the thing, if I believe him, that's the first line I'd say on a Jerry Springer episode where the audience would boo. You know, 'He said it proceeded me, he didn't remember it was there,' and then every overweight person in the studio would go, 'Fool!""
Such a cliche to say men are dogs, but then, why do they do such oblivious things as this?
All guys scumbags? No, no, no that can't be true!
"Here's the thing, if I believe him, that's the first line I'd say on a Jerry Springer episode where the audience would boo. You know, 'He said it proceeded me, he didn't remember it was there,' and then every overweight person in the studio would go, 'Fool!""
Such a cliche to say men are dogs, but then, why do they do such oblivious things as this?
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Happy Thanksgiving!
I'm in a flurry of planning, hoping to try out a new creamed spinach and parsnip dressing, wondering how to talk my mother into glazing the turkey with apricot compote (for color, I hear it's fantastic), overstuffing bags in case one outfit for dinner ends up with a big fat gravy splotch on it (this is most probable of all). I'm combining friends and family this year and hope everyone is on their best behavior, but the house is full of cats and the dog and my turkey of a brother, my mother who curses if the sausage stuffing dries out, my father who inevitably has to run to the barn, last minute to secure the chair we're missing, and it's inevitably tiny, antique and iron and I have to somehow sit on it as I sip perhaps my third wine and second buttered rum of the evening.
Thanksgiving is fantastic. Especially since I just ordered these flowers as a gift to family who won't be able to join us this year. But before all of that, a manic running around the "office" to check up on freelancing possibilities. My bags are heavy but my load is light--I have my family, I have my friends, I have a bed and for the moment, I may be exceptionally underemployed, but that merely gives me more time to put a new twist on our famous cranberry walnut pie. Traditions? We have none. Just to have a good time and a good stiff drink. And to retell this story.
Sending good wishes to all of you today, may you overeat and not think about the economy for just one day...
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Review
When writing a restaurant review, I have learned my editor adores neutrality, abhors cliches (though does not consider the word 'fashionista' a cliche, which as we all know, rises the bile in my throat like nothing else--oh sorry, we're talking about food here, I retract that) and generally likes to get a feel of a place without a laundry list of how the place looked or the menu. Mark what stands out, be imaginative with language, but honestly, what is another word for clientele? Crowd? Patron? Diner? And there friends, is the trouble with restaurant reviews. Well, one of them anyway.
I looked at a random sampling of five that I've written and are on the magazine's website for all eternity. In three I say some variation of the word "elevate". Damn.
So when I go to a vegan coffeeshop that's blasting "ironic" music (Foo Fighters--though I'll contend anything from the late nineties isn't far enough gone to be ironic, early Nirvana = OK. Late Foo Fighters = Dear God No.) and serving weak coffee in "ironic" cups that were funny eight years ago (you mean you didn't graduate from Talahassee High, class of '83?) I try to keep an open mind.
I'm a food lover. A huge food-lover. Groomed at food magazines, I revel in every seared scallop, every crisped bit of pork cracklings, the richness of a buttery croissant or the heft of roasted root vegetables (especially when they have some sort of Parmasean crust). I love sushi, miso, coconut curries, meaty cuban sandwiches, crunchy fried chicken, cool rice pudding. All of it. I am an extremely fat person stuck in a thin person's body (this people, is why I have a trainer).
Now when a vegetarian crosses my path, hell I've even dated some, I don't get overly discouraged. Macrobiotic raw food? Pure Food and Wine on Irving makes delicious plates of thinly sliced vegetables layered between a garlicky pesto and gobs of the freshest tomato sauce I've ever had. It's vegetarian, then vegan, then macrobiotic and not even cooked. And believe me naysayers when I tell you it was amazing.
So when I was assigned this vegan coffeeshop, I was not at all irritated (leave that for the friend I opted to bring along). I imagined vegetable sandwiches and awesome salads. Or at least, really hot coffee that was sustainably grown.
What I got was some of the worst stuff I've had. And it's not because it was vegan, it was because the flavors were all off. The pesto had no bite, the tempeh overpowered the soy patty, the greens in a salad arrived grimy and unwashed ("Like the clientele!" My friend joked.) It wasn't awful because it was vegan. It was just straight up bad food. But vegans have little delicious options in that section of the city, and the people who ran it were really interesting, and had a community thing going on. So I don't want to diss it. I mean, how can a bacon-loving foodie ever criticize these sweet folks? Maybe because the "chef's" experience before this was DELIVERING FOOD ELSEWHERE.
But still, I lament. I'm not a vegan, how would I know what good vegan food is? But I'm starting to wonder if it even matters. Because these were vegans who seemed to not enjoy food very much. And I think that if you are a vegan or vegetarian you should never be eschewed for not eating meat (it's delicious, but whatever). Having principles rocks. It's important. Not enough people go green and not enough understand that when done right, being vegan or vegetarian has an enormous positive impact on your body and the world as a whole. But I'm someone who enjoys food down to the smallest level. Salads simply dressed with lemon, freshly-squeezed juices, artisanal and organic breads--all of these things can be amazing. When a food establishment doesn't take the umbrella of vegetarian to mean they can just crank out food that...well, isn't up to par, is it?
Guess I'll try to keep that in mind while writing a review--the place just wasn't for me. And not because I'm not vegan. But because I don't like mediocre meals--vegan or otherwise...
I looked at a random sampling of five that I've written and are on the magazine's website for all eternity. In three I say some variation of the word "elevate". Damn.
So when I go to a vegan coffeeshop that's blasting "ironic" music (Foo Fighters--though I'll contend anything from the late nineties isn't far enough gone to be ironic, early Nirvana = OK. Late Foo Fighters = Dear God No.) and serving weak coffee in "ironic" cups that were funny eight years ago (you mean you didn't graduate from Talahassee High, class of '83?) I try to keep an open mind.
I'm a food lover. A huge food-lover. Groomed at food magazines, I revel in every seared scallop, every crisped bit of pork cracklings, the richness of a buttery croissant or the heft of roasted root vegetables (especially when they have some sort of Parmasean crust). I love sushi, miso, coconut curries, meaty cuban sandwiches, crunchy fried chicken, cool rice pudding. All of it. I am an extremely fat person stuck in a thin person's body (this people, is why I have a trainer).
Now when a vegetarian crosses my path, hell I've even dated some, I don't get overly discouraged. Macrobiotic raw food? Pure Food and Wine on Irving makes delicious plates of thinly sliced vegetables layered between a garlicky pesto and gobs of the freshest tomato sauce I've ever had. It's vegetarian, then vegan, then macrobiotic and not even cooked. And believe me naysayers when I tell you it was amazing.
So when I was assigned this vegan coffeeshop, I was not at all irritated (leave that for the friend I opted to bring along). I imagined vegetable sandwiches and awesome salads. Or at least, really hot coffee that was sustainably grown.
What I got was some of the worst stuff I've had. And it's not because it was vegan, it was because the flavors were all off. The pesto had no bite, the tempeh overpowered the soy patty, the greens in a salad arrived grimy and unwashed ("Like the clientele!" My friend joked.) It wasn't awful because it was vegan. It was just straight up bad food. But vegans have little delicious options in that section of the city, and the people who ran it were really interesting, and had a community thing going on. So I don't want to diss it. I mean, how can a bacon-loving foodie ever criticize these sweet folks? Maybe because the "chef's" experience before this was DELIVERING FOOD ELSEWHERE.
But still, I lament. I'm not a vegan, how would I know what good vegan food is? But I'm starting to wonder if it even matters. Because these were vegans who seemed to not enjoy food very much. And I think that if you are a vegan or vegetarian you should never be eschewed for not eating meat (it's delicious, but whatever). Having principles rocks. It's important. Not enough people go green and not enough understand that when done right, being vegan or vegetarian has an enormous positive impact on your body and the world as a whole. But I'm someone who enjoys food down to the smallest level. Salads simply dressed with lemon, freshly-squeezed juices, artisanal and organic breads--all of these things can be amazing. When a food establishment doesn't take the umbrella of vegetarian to mean they can just crank out food that...well, isn't up to par, is it?
Guess I'll try to keep that in mind while writing a review--the place just wasn't for me. And not because I'm not vegan. But because I don't like mediocre meals--vegan or otherwise...
Thursday, November 20, 2008
This. Means. War.
Hey Apple Store,
Hi! Hey! Over here! Look at me! Can you see me? Helloooo? I’m waving to you. Yes, you. Hey, oh look you’re coming over here. Great. Okay I’ll wait. Look at your sleek, pretty exterior. I would wait until the end of time for you.
What’s that Apple store? You need to put me on hold? Sure! You’re busy. What with all those adorably be-speckled clients of yours, in their vests and skinny jeans and new business plans. ZOMG, I totally identify with everyone else. Boy I’m glad I switched to a Mac.
Hey, the hold line is playing music! Yeah, I bet it’s a hot new band cause like, Apple totes knows all the hot new bands, I mean, lookie at those ipod commercials! Oh wait, it’s Ch-Ch-Changes. Ch-ch-changes!
Hey, you’re back! And it was only 45 minutes? Can I just tell you how funny it is that you are playing Ch-ch-changes over and over and over again? That’s totally hilarious. We’re really going through some changes, huh? How about that Obama? CHANGE! Speaking of which, can you spare any?
Right, how silly of me to ask. That was a joke, yeah yeah. A joke. What’s that Apple store? You’re mumbling. I must be hallucinating cause I think you just said you want to charge me almost $900 to fix my computer monitor.
Oh you do? That wasn’t a Klonopin-induced nightmare? I see. (Choking back the rising bile)
No, no, it’s totally fine. I mean, if anyone understands the creative underclass it’s you. Like you wouldn’t charge me that unless you had to right? (Holding back tears).
I mean, you wouldn’t do that to a freelance writer who already lives with three roommates and is awaiting the ax from each magazine as they fold….right?
Oh, you would? You’re a corporate bastard who doesn’t allow a computer that is 9 months old to be covered under your warranty because you make the screen of graham crackers, excitedly awaiting it to crack apart and charge me 1/2 of what it cost to buy this machine in the first place?
I see. (Popping antacids like Pez)
Okay but you would totally give me my computer back really fast right? Cause I have no resources without it, and can’t get new jobs, let alone finish the old ones without the computer right? Oh, you need to put me on hold again. Cool.
Hey, I wonder how long I could live on ramen and slices of that really big meatball I got at dinner the other night and took home, seeing the potential for ten meals from that meatball, if I cut it real thin…
Oh Apple! You’re back! God it feels like we’ve been talking for hours. Days even. Wait, today is Thursday. And you’ve had my computer for a week. And this is our fifth phone call. So, we have been talking for days. Well at least you’re working hard on my—
Oh. You’ve…lost my ticket and haven’t even shipped this thing out to get fixed. Why? Oh, you can’t tell me. No, no, it’s fine! I mean, I’m just a little FRUSTRATED! Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to yell. Okay, so you are putting in the order now. Any chance you can knock off a few bucks for dicking me around so much?
Right, of course not. Pardon me a minute, there’s something I have to do….
(Loading shotgun)
Hi! Hey! Over here! Look at me! Can you see me? Helloooo? I’m waving to you. Yes, you. Hey, oh look you’re coming over here. Great. Okay I’ll wait. Look at your sleek, pretty exterior. I would wait until the end of time for you.
What’s that Apple store? You need to put me on hold? Sure! You’re busy. What with all those adorably be-speckled clients of yours, in their vests and skinny jeans and new business plans. ZOMG, I totally identify with everyone else. Boy I’m glad I switched to a Mac.
Hey, the hold line is playing music! Yeah, I bet it’s a hot new band cause like, Apple totes knows all the hot new bands, I mean, lookie at those ipod commercials! Oh wait, it’s Ch-Ch-Changes. Ch-ch-changes!
Hey, you’re back! And it was only 45 minutes? Can I just tell you how funny it is that you are playing Ch-ch-changes over and over and over again? That’s totally hilarious. We’re really going through some changes, huh? How about that Obama? CHANGE! Speaking of which, can you spare any?
Right, how silly of me to ask. That was a joke, yeah yeah. A joke. What’s that Apple store? You’re mumbling. I must be hallucinating cause I think you just said you want to charge me almost $900 to fix my computer monitor.
Oh you do? That wasn’t a Klonopin-induced nightmare? I see. (Choking back the rising bile)
No, no, it’s totally fine. I mean, if anyone understands the creative underclass it’s you. Like you wouldn’t charge me that unless you had to right? (Holding back tears).
I mean, you wouldn’t do that to a freelance writer who already lives with three roommates and is awaiting the ax from each magazine as they fold….right?
Oh, you would? You’re a corporate bastard who doesn’t allow a computer that is 9 months old to be covered under your warranty because you make the screen of graham crackers, excitedly awaiting it to crack apart and charge me 1/2 of what it cost to buy this machine in the first place?
I see. (Popping antacids like Pez)
Okay but you would totally give me my computer back really fast right? Cause I have no resources without it, and can’t get new jobs, let alone finish the old ones without the computer right? Oh, you need to put me on hold again. Cool.
Hey, I wonder how long I could live on ramen and slices of that really big meatball I got at dinner the other night and took home, seeing the potential for ten meals from that meatball, if I cut it real thin…
Oh Apple! You’re back! God it feels like we’ve been talking for hours. Days even. Wait, today is Thursday. And you’ve had my computer for a week. And this is our fifth phone call. So, we have been talking for days. Well at least you’re working hard on my—
Oh. You’ve…lost my ticket and haven’t even shipped this thing out to get fixed. Why? Oh, you can’t tell me. No, no, it’s fine! I mean, I’m just a little FRUSTRATED! Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to yell. Okay, so you are putting in the order now. Any chance you can knock off a few bucks for dicking me around so much?
Right, of course not. Pardon me a minute, there’s something I have to do….
(Loading shotgun)
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
So, the reason I've been gone is....
The day after I got me some downsized hours (along with the rest of the permalancers in the building--please revise my earlier statement--PRINT IS DEAD! For a month or so...damn you economy), my laptop fell off my lap (no joke, because someone knocked on the door and I was startled, like some old lady who doesn't understand the cell phone ringing in the movie she is watching is not actually her own phone which never rings) and the LCD screen exploded into a beautiful kaleidoscope of white and green.
Which was pretty. For a minute. But I found quickly that it's not an Etch-a-Sketch. You can't just shake it to fix it.
Now no office computer (not really) and no home computer (not at all until it comes back from the Apple "Genius")! And I've never felt like blogging and writing more. Oh for crying out loud...
So yeah, sorry about that. I will try to post more often than once a week...in the meantime, how's your job(s) going?
Sweet. So, you hiring?
Which was pretty. For a minute. But I found quickly that it's not an Etch-a-Sketch. You can't just shake it to fix it.
Now no office computer (not really) and no home computer (not at all until it comes back from the Apple "Genius")! And I've never felt like blogging and writing more. Oh for crying out loud...
So yeah, sorry about that. I will try to post more often than once a week...in the meantime, how's your job(s) going?
Sweet. So, you hiring?
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
I can haz ur overused wrdz?
I was perusing some lists of words/phrases that should be banned (that sometimes we all use) and wanted to come up with my own (and steal some of theirs).
10. "Net net".
Hey newly-minted business person who wants to use phrases like "status" and "multiple touchpoints" in normal person-speak, I used to work in advertising too! Now shut up. Damn made up language.
9. "He gave it to Susan and I"
Oh pardon me! I didn't realize I was talking to the Queen of England...except you're just being pretentious and using the word "I" incorrectly instead of "me". Note to those mutton posing as lamb: If you take away the person or article in front of your "I", it damn well better make sense. As in, "He gave it to I vs. He gave it to me."
8. "Snap!"/"Hot Mess"/"Beat Down"/"Hell Yes"
This came up recently when one friend accused another friend of learning their slang from 90s sitcoms like Living Single and City Guys (you know you watched City Guys after Saturday morning cartoons. "C-I-T-Y, you can see why, the city guys!")
7. "Blogosphere". There are not enough descriptors in Dante's Hell that suit my insatiable and inhuman desire to murder this phrase into the ground. See also, "Hipster". See also "Hypocrite" as I have used these both in the past week.
6. "I just threw up in my mouth a little"
Really? I mean, that is wild! See cause when people throw up a little, or even a lot, I thought it was in their ass. Boy, you're clever.
5. "Myself". As in it was Carrie and myself. Refer to #9.
4. "Print is dead". Look, I know the "Internets" is the way of the future, thanks for pointing that out, 1990. What a new concept! The idea that words posted on a screen versus on a page is nothing new. I'd love it however, if people would stop treating this as a new concept, especially anyone born after 1985. Journalistic standards are crap online, and anyone can be famous. Print is the last bastion of the elite. Internet brings people together and waters down talent. Now I work in magazines, and you will pry each one that folds before my eyes from my cold dead hands. I am writing a book. I think writing should be on paper (and have an online supplement). Kids younger than me, stop telling me this is not a worthy pursuit and that PRINT IS DEAD. The young ones always have the conviction but rarely the acumen to truly predict and be cognizant of what is going on the moment they are young. Obama will not be twittering his inaugural address. Yes it's cool that he knows what it is. It's even cooler that he doesn't use it, because to do so would be a dilution. P.S. They said the VCR would be the end of movies and television too. Technology is not our destructor and not our savior. Can we do something a little more important with our lives than decrying some resources and having endless, circular discourse? Also, you tell me my Grandpa doesn't like getting a card in the mail instead of an email. Yeah, he's old, but he's awesome and Australian. Let's listen to him.
(to be finished in a moment...)
10. "Net net".
Hey newly-minted business person who wants to use phrases like "status" and "multiple touchpoints" in normal person-speak, I used to work in advertising too! Now shut up. Damn made up language.
9. "He gave it to Susan and I"
Oh pardon me! I didn't realize I was talking to the Queen of England...except you're just being pretentious and using the word "I" incorrectly instead of "me". Note to those mutton posing as lamb: If you take away the person or article in front of your "I", it damn well better make sense. As in, "He gave it to I vs. He gave it to me."
8. "Snap!"/"Hot Mess"/"Beat Down"/"Hell Yes"
This came up recently when one friend accused another friend of learning their slang from 90s sitcoms like Living Single and City Guys (you know you watched City Guys after Saturday morning cartoons. "C-I-T-Y, you can see why, the city guys!")
7. "Blogosphere". There are not enough descriptors in Dante's Hell that suit my insatiable and inhuman desire to murder this phrase into the ground. See also, "Hipster". See also "Hypocrite" as I have used these both in the past week.
6. "I just threw up in my mouth a little"
Really? I mean, that is wild! See cause when people throw up a little, or even a lot, I thought it was in their ass. Boy, you're clever.
5. "Myself". As in it was Carrie and myself. Refer to #9.
4. "Print is dead". Look, I know the "Internets" is the way of the future, thanks for pointing that out, 1990. What a new concept! The idea that words posted on a screen versus on a page is nothing new. I'd love it however, if people would stop treating this as a new concept, especially anyone born after 1985. Journalistic standards are crap online, and anyone can be famous. Print is the last bastion of the elite. Internet brings people together and waters down talent. Now I work in magazines, and you will pry each one that folds before my eyes from my cold dead hands. I am writing a book. I think writing should be on paper (and have an online supplement). Kids younger than me, stop telling me this is not a worthy pursuit and that PRINT IS DEAD. The young ones always have the conviction but rarely the acumen to truly predict and be cognizant of what is going on the moment they are young. Obama will not be twittering his inaugural address. Yes it's cool that he knows what it is. It's even cooler that he doesn't use it, because to do so would be a dilution. P.S. They said the VCR would be the end of movies and television too. Technology is not our destructor and not our savior. Can we do something a little more important with our lives than decrying some resources and having endless, circular discourse? Also, you tell me my Grandpa doesn't like getting a card in the mail instead of an email. Yeah, he's old, but he's awesome and Australian. Let's listen to him.
(to be finished in a moment...)
Monday, November 10, 2008
Monday Laugh-In
I do not have any money so I'm sending you a drawing of a spider instead.
Brilliant. Read from the top!
Brilliant. Read from the top!
Friday, November 07, 2008
Quote of the Day
In honor of the novel, and the edits I am going through, I'd thought I'd share a quote from page 334 (now this doesn't AT ALL mean pages 1-333 are done, I'm going through to see the arc of each chapter, the arc of the novel, if each character that already is, should be, represented in a scene, if each scene serves a theme, if each theme serves ice cream, and other important notes).
The character is Alfred, a 60 year old curmudgeon with foppish tendencies whom the protagonist forms a fatherly relationship with....
-----
She took a step forward in an effort to pet it, but the cat turned, ready to dash. Alfred cleared his throat dramatically. "Hurry up."
"Why? It's early."
"Well I don't really want to get into it, but that creature's anus just winked at me."
The character is Alfred, a 60 year old curmudgeon with foppish tendencies whom the protagonist forms a fatherly relationship with....
-----
She took a step forward in an effort to pet it, but the cat turned, ready to dash. Alfred cleared his throat dramatically. "Hurry up."
"Why? It's early."
"Well I don't really want to get into it, but that creature's anus just winked at me."
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Weeee! Nonsense! Fake Post!
Barack, furiously rewriting my novel and bouncing around on too many dinners out (but now actually able to do chin-ups at the gym, I know, right?)!
This is a good week. Now if only I could revise the 40 pieces of writing that just arrived on my desk. Anyone know a new word for garlicky? Hmmmm? Yes, indeed I have a noble profession.
Still...hooray!
This is a good week. Now if only I could revise the 40 pieces of writing that just arrived on my desk. Anyone know a new word for garlicky? Hmmmm? Yes, indeed I have a noble profession.
Still...hooray!
Friday, October 31, 2008
Happy Halloween!
I troll the internet so you can be productive. I'm also really immature, so you don't have to be. You're welcome.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Quote of the Day
"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover." -- Mark Twain
I have been lead twice to this quote today and it's not even 11 AM. This can't be just another gray, blustery Wednesday after that, now can it?
I have been lead twice to this quote today and it's not even 11 AM. This can't be just another gray, blustery Wednesday after that, now can it?
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Uh oh, I think I just grew up
I had one of those magically sad nights, Brooklyn and Broken Social Scene, the parking lot afterwards, the sounds haunting, billowing out of the spires of the Masonic Temple. It was cold, I was underdressed and shivering and we were sitting close, our knees were touching.
It was the most fun I had had with a singular person in some time, no distractions, no pretense, just us, our thoughts and our tenuous connection. One that we wanted to bridge maybe. Maybe in different ways. I can never tell what someone else is thinking, and rarely does it line up with my own.
Later in the night, after narrowly escaping the first chance to jump into something new, something old, it was that way again, familiar jokes and small noises, gentle hands and light possibilities. The moment when it could have been something beautiful and something horrible all at once. And the thoughts that would not stop.
What if all those things had never happened, what if they had but they had meant nothing instead of everything? What if I had never been so vulnerable and so blind? Could we care for each other like we once did? How about as friends? But friends don't think of each other as this, nervous to send emails, shaking when the phone rings. Friends don't kiss or try to. Friends don't pop in once in a while, between sadness, between elation, friends don't miss each other or what they once used to have.
And I floated above us, I saw us, two people who were torn apart and shouldn't have been, or were liberated and never should have been brought back together, though we keep perpetuating it for some reason I will never know. We were going through the motions as if history meant nothing, as if broken love was something that could simply vanish without its acknowledgment of casualties, of which there were many. Pride, dignity, dreams, these things were lost and they were hard fought before they fell broken into pieces, then pounded into dust.
It is hard to forget. It is harder to remember. It is easy to sigh into the arms of someone you miss, you loved, even though they said at one point they hated you, even if it wasn't true, they said it still.
You may have never loved like that before. You may never be able to get it back. That's the point. The point with no point.
And even for one night, it means nothing, because it is too loaded. It is too sad, it is too slow. We're older and we are running out of time. If one or the other cannot take the step to actually remedy, then there is no reason to revisit the past. It is the difference between what feels good in the short term and what will truly be good for you in the long term. You need a change. Not to be reminded of what was lost. You deserve more than that.
Sea change they call it. Realizing you deserve more than someone is willing to give. You thought it would be as sad as the rest. But really, it wasn't sad, not one little bit, at all.
It was the most fun I had had with a singular person in some time, no distractions, no pretense, just us, our thoughts and our tenuous connection. One that we wanted to bridge maybe. Maybe in different ways. I can never tell what someone else is thinking, and rarely does it line up with my own.
Later in the night, after narrowly escaping the first chance to jump into something new, something old, it was that way again, familiar jokes and small noises, gentle hands and light possibilities. The moment when it could have been something beautiful and something horrible all at once. And the thoughts that would not stop.
What if all those things had never happened, what if they had but they had meant nothing instead of everything? What if I had never been so vulnerable and so blind? Could we care for each other like we once did? How about as friends? But friends don't think of each other as this, nervous to send emails, shaking when the phone rings. Friends don't kiss or try to. Friends don't pop in once in a while, between sadness, between elation, friends don't miss each other or what they once used to have.
And I floated above us, I saw us, two people who were torn apart and shouldn't have been, or were liberated and never should have been brought back together, though we keep perpetuating it for some reason I will never know. We were going through the motions as if history meant nothing, as if broken love was something that could simply vanish without its acknowledgment of casualties, of which there were many. Pride, dignity, dreams, these things were lost and they were hard fought before they fell broken into pieces, then pounded into dust.
It is hard to forget. It is harder to remember. It is easy to sigh into the arms of someone you miss, you loved, even though they said at one point they hated you, even if it wasn't true, they said it still.
You may have never loved like that before. You may never be able to get it back. That's the point. The point with no point.
And even for one night, it means nothing, because it is too loaded. It is too sad, it is too slow. We're older and we are running out of time. If one or the other cannot take the step to actually remedy, then there is no reason to revisit the past. It is the difference between what feels good in the short term and what will truly be good for you in the long term. You need a change. Not to be reminded of what was lost. You deserve more than that.
Sea change they call it. Realizing you deserve more than someone is willing to give. You thought it would be as sad as the rest. But really, it wasn't sad, not one little bit, at all.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Recessionista
I was at the gym last night, faking my way through twenty-five minutes on a stationary bike in full view of my trainer in an attempt to prove I do cardio after our sessions (yeah right! Virgil--I lied to you! Then I went and ate a grilled cheese! Even though you said no carbs after 7 PM. Ha!) when I picked up the latest issue of Glamour. You know, cause there was no New Yorker or Financial Times avaiable(again an aside, I saw a guy I went out on a date with at the gym once in Birkenstocks, working out while reading a sweat-stained and pink copy of the Financial Times, and wearing a hemp necklace. Gee, I must have lost his number).
Yeah yeah, that's it. I picked up the US Weekly and the Glamour, well snatched them really, just as some trollop was about to grab them for the elliptical--and I was all, hey trollop, you don't need that, you'll actually be working out and won't be able to peruse the pages like me, who will just be sitting and pretending the machine is on 14 when it's really on 4 the whole time.
So I saw this word: recessionista. And I was all like, you go girl!
Just kidding, instead I was more...must we have a cute catch phrase for everything? Ugh, sound bites cloaked in grrl power and too clever puns need to go the way of Sex and the City mania. We all loved it, okay. We did. It was good. But it's not that pertinent anymore. It's not shocking.
It's so mass-marketed and de-individualized and in my mind so circa 1995 to say such a thing. The recession isn't cute. Not to me. But hey, I'm a freelancer with zero job security. So, you know, cutting back on my "usual iced latte" isn't really going to fix my stability here. Throw a dinner party instead of eating out with friends? Really Glamour? Cause Whole Foods is pretty expensive and the Key Foods on 4th Street? Well a guy killed two people there last year and there's a broken container of eggs that's needed a cleanup in aisle 5 for about 2 months running.
I'm not saying I don't need to save some money right now. I totally do (what's that brain? Hmmm? Get rid of the trainer? Quiet you! I'll stab you with a Q-tip if you keep talking like that). I just would like some sound advice that didn't make it sound fun. Cause saving isn't fun. It blows! And it's not cute! And really, I want the word fashionista, let alone recessionista, to die a swift and painless death.
Then again, were I fifteen, I'd probably think it was cute.*
Now instead, I direct you to some very good and well-written advice, unlike what you're currently reading on this site. Now that my birthday is over, I am a huge proponent of this. Also, I would assert that if any one of you is going to/forced into a group dinner at a restaurant soon, order the lobster. Like this writer, too many times have I gotten the salad in an effort to be frugal and ended up paying like everyone else because they wanted to "split the check"...
*It's kind of that one girl in Gossip Girl who they try to remind you is the "ethnic" one by dressing her in really bright clothes and confusing accessories (Indian beaded necklace, African bracelet and huge, gold earrings). Nevermind that she's got green eyes. No no, children, look over here, not over there!
Yeah yeah, that's it. I picked up the US Weekly and the Glamour, well snatched them really, just as some trollop was about to grab them for the elliptical--and I was all, hey trollop, you don't need that, you'll actually be working out and won't be able to peruse the pages like me, who will just be sitting and pretending the machine is on 14 when it's really on 4 the whole time.
So I saw this word: recessionista. And I was all like, you go girl!
Just kidding, instead I was more...must we have a cute catch phrase for everything? Ugh, sound bites cloaked in grrl power and too clever puns need to go the way of Sex and the City mania. We all loved it, okay. We did. It was good. But it's not that pertinent anymore. It's not shocking.
It's so mass-marketed and de-individualized and in my mind so circa 1995 to say such a thing. The recession isn't cute. Not to me. But hey, I'm a freelancer with zero job security. So, you know, cutting back on my "usual iced latte" isn't really going to fix my stability here. Throw a dinner party instead of eating out with friends? Really Glamour? Cause Whole Foods is pretty expensive and the Key Foods on 4th Street? Well a guy killed two people there last year and there's a broken container of eggs that's needed a cleanup in aisle 5 for about 2 months running.
I'm not saying I don't need to save some money right now. I totally do (what's that brain? Hmmm? Get rid of the trainer? Quiet you! I'll stab you with a Q-tip if you keep talking like that). I just would like some sound advice that didn't make it sound fun. Cause saving isn't fun. It blows! And it's not cute! And really, I want the word fashionista, let alone recessionista, to die a swift and painless death.
Then again, were I fifteen, I'd probably think it was cute.*
Now instead, I direct you to some very good and well-written advice, unlike what you're currently reading on this site. Now that my birthday is over, I am a huge proponent of this. Also, I would assert that if any one of you is going to/forced into a group dinner at a restaurant soon, order the lobster. Like this writer, too many times have I gotten the salad in an effort to be frugal and ended up paying like everyone else because they wanted to "split the check"...
*It's kind of that one girl in Gossip Girl who they try to remind you is the "ethnic" one by dressing her in really bright clothes and confusing accessories (Indian beaded necklace, African bracelet and huge, gold earrings). Nevermind that she's got green eyes. No no, children, look over here, not over there!
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