Tomorrow Is Another Day...

Confessions Pt 2

Welcome to another round of brutally honest, potentially inappropriate thoughts that been circulating in my head recently.  No topic is safe from the wanderings of my little feather brain.

* Our Christmas tree is still up.  Oh yes, it is.  And I have no plans to take it down any time soon.  Not because I am feeling particularly festive, but because I am lazy.  And we have a lot of ornaments on that damn tree.

* I am horrified at the state of parenting and children's behavior in general these days.  I know that makes me a bitter sixty-five-year-old man, but I don't care.  My generation was far from perfect, and I was a bit sheltered as a child, but I honestly don't think that as a whole we were nearly as dreadful as children AS A WHOLE these days.

* I find Ryan Seacrest mysteriously hot this season.  He seems somehow more mature and dignified.  We'll see how long that lasts before the frosted tips and shiny shirts make their come back.

* On a somewhat related note, I haven't been as excited about an American Idol contestant as I am about Alexis Grace in a very long time.  Maybe ever.  This is interesting since I wasn't even planning to watch American Idol this season.  If she makes it to the finals, there is a 57% chance that I might make an actual effort and text in a vote.

* I can't remember the last time I thoroughly cleaned our bathroom.  There is a layer of hairspray and makeup about an inch thick on the counters, and my sink looks like a Jackson Pollack painting.

* Even though know that I drastically cut the number of blogs I read a few months ago and am no longer a terribly consistent commenter, sometimes I get a little sad that I don't get the same number of comments I used to get.  Then I remember that there are far greater problems in the world (see: state of bathroom above), and I get over it.  Until I get a little sad again.

* This has absolutely zero bearing on the amount of my love for Colby, but I would really love to get some fabulous sparkly jewelry from him on romantic holidays.

* I am seriously, hopelessly addicted to Facebook and at a slightly lesser level, Twitter.  As such, I am giving up both for Lent.  Jesus is probably rolling his eyes, like, "I fasted in the desert for 40 days and this twit is worried about her ability to stay away from social networking sites for 46?" but in a nicer way, of course, because he is Jesus.  I have had multiple friends contact me, worried that they will never hear from me again, but have no fear, I will still be blogging and emailing.  But still probably not ever answering my phone.

The Green Eyed Monster

I'm sure by now, pretty much everyone who has turned on the television, listened to the radio, surfed the internet, or read a newspaper has heard about the pre-Grammy's activities in which singers Chris Brown and Rihanna were involved.  For those not in the know, the two have been dating for quite some time, and on the eve of the Grammy's, the two apparently got into some sort of altercation that ended with Brown allegedly beating Rihanna pretty seriously, but neither has released an official statement, so the details are all hazy at this point.

What has piqued my curiosity about this story, more that most celebrity gossip stories, is that the reason witnesses and friends have given for the violent outburst from Brown was that Rihanna was angry with him for flirting at the party they'd attended together and the fight snowballed from there, ending with her in the hospital and Brown turning himself in on domestic violence charges.  Jealousy.  Even celebrities aren't immune.  And jealousy and I have a long and complicated past with one another--one that I'm still working through to this day. 

When I was a freshman in college, I got involved in my first "serious" relationship--if you've been around the blog long enough, you may remember me mentioning Evil Ex and if you know me in real life, you couldn't possibly mistake to whom I am referring.  I trusted him completely, mostly because I was too dumb/naive to do otherwise.  He pushed the relationship along at warp speed, dropping the "L" bomb about a month into the relationship, and I was completely swept off my feet.  However, after a couple of months, things started changing.  If I had plans with friends he wanted to know who they were, where I was going, when I would be back.  Once he'd met all of my friends, he was contantly criticizing them, and he would always manage to find a way to convince me to blow them off and stay at home with him.

When we went out he would harp on my makeup or the clothes I was wearing, and if I so much as spoke to another guy, even if it was a mutual friend of ours, he'd become angry and moody.  At the time, I thought this was normal, that this is just how relationships were.  You started dating someone and they became your life.  I remember that I brought a male study partner who was an old high school friend to Ex's apartment once, as we were all but living together officially at the time, and when he came home and found us reviewing biology terms together, he was furious.  He was icily rude to my study partner and as soon as we were alone, he exploded, yelling and telling me that I had disrespected him and so on and so forth.  I will say, he never laid a hand on me, but he knew the exact words to use to cut me to the quick.  And of course, if you know me, you know that I'm not the meekest, mildest girl in the world, so I would give back as good as I got.

After about a year together I had virtually no friends left, all of my days and nights were spent either at school or with Ex, and my self-image was completely destroyed.  I probably weighed 110-115 pounds at the time, but he had pointed out my saddlebags, buddha belly, and flat chest enough that I saw myself as a hideous cow.  I had completely stopped trying, wearing no makeup, doing nothing with my hair, and dressed in jeans and t-shirts every day.  Even though we did nothing but engage in epic arguments, he had somehow managed to make me feel completely dependent on him and that he was the only person in the world who really wanted me in his life, and I had convinced myself that that was love.  All because of his jealousies and insecurites.

Another thing that had changed about me was my own personal jealousies.  I had never been jealous of any boyfriend in the past, but he taught me to be mistrustful, and when he began spending more and more time with a female friend of ours, my radar went crazy.  Only thing is, my radar was right on target and shortly after it was over between us. 

It was like an atom bomb had been dropped on my life.  God bless my friends, because they were all still there waiting for me and I credit some of them, together with my family, for quite literally saving my life.  The aftermath was that bad.  But still, I had zero self esteem and I didn't know what lesson to take away from what had happened.  Another person's jealousies and insecurities had almost completely destroyed me, but then all of my own jealousies were entirely founded.

Then, years later, it happened again with Colby.  I met one of his female friends at one of his military training programs, and immediately, those exact same alarm bells went off in my head.  Colby told me I was being completely ridiculous, but sure enough, when the February rolled around that he decided to break things off with me, he immediately turned to her and they dated briefly.  I'd been telling him for years that she was after him, and he'd almost convinced me that I was crazy, but then once again, my jealousies were validated

Now, I should say that Colby did eventually see the error of his ways, and I was able to forgive his temporary lapse in judgment, and from the moment that we mended fences and got back together, I have not felt a single smidgen of jealousy, so that's all kinds of awesome. And I also should put in a disclaimer here saying that Ex seems very happy now with the woman he began dating and then married after we broke up, and it is distinctly possible that he treats her like a queen and I just brought out the worst in him, so you know, everything has a way of working out in the end.  I suppose.

But I'd like to put it to you, since my life experiences have done nothing but confuse the issue.  What is your opinion?  Is jealousy always completely unacceptable and a tendency toward it a major character flaw, or is it just your intuition's way of telling you something is really wrong and attention should be paid?  Or does it really just depend on the situation and the people involved?

Freakin' Brrr

Dear Winter,

I'm writing to you in regard to the recent chilly temperatures that have spanned these United States for the past few months.  You see, when I first moved to the Seattle area, I was assured that it was really quite temperate and that the winters weren't too bad.  And of course, to make up for the dreariness that envelops the region from October through March, the summers were absolutely magnificent.  I suppose when I compare the winter weather here to that of say, Fargo, North Dakota, no the winters aren't that terrible.  However, for this southern girl who has been conditioned to begin shivering once temperatures dip below 65 degrees, Washington winters are indeed miserable.  And the summers?  Honestly, they just barely miss being categorized as Spring: The Sequel.

It doesn't help that I was also assured that it practically never snows here, a fact that I am beginning to doubt after spending two winters dealing with snow and ice on the roads in a county that has approximately zero concept of how to deal with such hazards.  And as if ice on the road isn't bad enough, now I have to scrape ice off of a giant 15 passenger bus every morning--and not just on the outside of the windshield.  Oh, no, that would be silly!  The ice coats the inside of the windshield and windows as well.  It's really an interesting discovery when you realize that the reason you just can't scrape that damn ice off of the windshield is because it is INSIDE the windshield.  High-larious!

So, here's the thing, Winter.  I think it would be best for both of us if you would just go ahead and leave now.  This is clearly an unhealthy relationship, and I don't see it getting any better any time soon.  We both just have different interests--you enjoy coating the world in frost and black ice and I just really want to bitch and moan about how hot it is outside.  I really thought that things would be different for us.  When I was a little girl, I dreamed of white Christmases and being able to bundle up in scarves and mittens without breaking a sweat, but I guess I didn't know what I really wanted.  And what I want is just not you.

Know that there are plenty of people out there in the world who are happy to have you in their lives.  People who think I'm crazy to let you go, and would give anything to trade places with me and experience your dismal grey days and constant blustery winds.  So, go to them.  Be well.  I can't say that I'll miss you, but maybe someday, when things are getting a little stale between Summer and I, we can rendezvous for an illicit (and brief) tryst beneath the clouds.

No longer yours,

More Ghostly Occurences

Hey, remember when I was being haunted by a numismatist from the great beyond a few months ago?  I think he (or she) might be back, and this time has more than coins on the mind.  I was just sitting around, minding my own business, bemoaning the fact that Britney apparently did not surprise us all with a VMA performance that hearkened back to the good old days and had decided that while waiting for Mad Men or Army Wives to come on, I might as well get a head start on my homework for next week.  So, I reach over, click on my table lamp and the light bulb sparked momentarily before dying a spectacular death. 

I grumbled about the extreme hardship that now faced me of uprooting myself from the sofa to go in search of another light bulb, and foraged around the house for about fifteen minutes until I finally remembered where I keep my stash.  (This happens to me EVERY TIME I have to change a light bulb--I can NEVER remember where they are and they are ALWAYS in exactly the same place.  Please tell me I'm not the only one with this affliction.)  I discovered them in the top corner shelf of the laundry room (there, now I can check my blog next time I forget), clomped back downstairs, changed the bulb, and sat back down ready to begin my reading.  I reached over to turn on the lamp, and... it sparked momentarily before dying a spectacular death.

GAH!

I repeated the aforementioned process once more, and hey howdy, guess what?  The dadburned light bulb went out AGAIN!  The hell??  Really, the only logical explanation is that my numismatist buddy is hanging out somewhere in the general area of my right shoulder, sucking up all of the energy produced by each light bulb I attempt to turn on.  I'm beginning to think it's time to do some research to find out if our house is built on top of some ancient Indian burial ground or something.  And also, why do these things always happen when Colby is not at home??

Anyway, I'm going to attempt to change the light bulb once more and get to that thrilling reading on the educational psychology of personal, social and emotional development, but assuming that I am not struck dead during the night by my ghostly visitor, I'll be back soon to dish on Disney World, The Hills, my new job, and whatever else might strike my fancy between then and now.

Oh, and if you know of any get exorcised quick techniques, do please feel free to share.

Blogging About Blogging = SO BORING

I've been spending the past week or so mentally composing my goodbye letter to the internet.  I think upon review of my past couple of months of blog posts, it seems more than a little bit apparent that I began reaching blog burnout long before I realized it.  I've been writing sporadically, I've been stressing over comments and page views and return visits to new visitors.  More recently I haven't been able to keep my Reader at a manageable level and feeling guilty about writing on my own blog before reading and commenting on my blog friends'.

At first I blamed it on the fact that I was busy entertaining one set of friends at my house, then visiting another set of friends in San Francisco, then having my parents in town for another full week.  Combined with school my attention was completely diverted from blogging and I spent all of my computer time writing papers or outlines and trying to keep up with email.  But then I was alone again, and once more I had plenty of time to blog.  But then I got caught up in Smallville and I started job hunting and once again, there was always something to do other than blogging--even though I was on the computer practically non-stop.  Anytime I would click over to Google Reader, I would immediately recoil in horror at the absurdly high number of unread items glaring back at me accusingly and then I would just click the X on the tab.

The thing is, I just can't keep up anymore.  Joining 20 Something Blogs was like Dorothy leaving Kansas and landing in the beautiful Technicolor world of Oz.  Prior to that day, I read mostly mommyblogs or infertility blogs, and I LOVED them all--still read them in fact--but I was so envious of the community that those bloggers had that I didn't fit into.  But with the 20 Somethings, I found blog after blog written by amazing women (sorry boys, I'm sure yours are great too!) whom I completely identified with and I promptly began adding one after another to my list of daily reads.  It was so great, but at the same time, the burden of blog interaction got a little heavier.  That unwritten, unspoken social contract that states "I comment on your blog, you comment on mine."

That was fine for the world that I was living in a few months ago.  I had a desk job and reading all of these blogs kept me sane and gave me something to do during those long, horribly boring days.  But then I quit, and I started school.  And it occurred to me that the only job I can really take on right now is an hourly, retail job, and that's not terribly conducive to blog reading throughout the day.  And eventually, I'll hopefully be working as a teacher, in a classroom all day, where I think it would be frowned upon to spend the school day glued to my phone, checking blogs.  All of these realizations have hit over the past week and I figured it was time to just throw in the towel.

But then I realized something else.

I have always loved to write.  I have two partial manuscripts and a whole slew of Word documents filled with story ideas, but every time I sit down to work on them, I am paralyzed by this overwhelming pressure.  Pressure to write something that someone else will want to read.  Pressure to write something that someone else will think is "good".  I write a few pages, and then read over it with a critical eye and I want to cry.  Because oh my God, I suck.  But blogging is writing that I used to do just for me.  Before the page views were in the triple digits, before the comments were in the double digits, I still loved it.  Before I started worrying about writing something that someone else will want to read.  That someone else will think is "good".  And I loved my community, even though it was a small one.  It's not that I don't love all of the new readers and the new blogs that I've discovered over the past year, it's just that I find myself unable to live up to my own expectations.

And so, to make this very long story longer, I'm not giving up blogging.  What I am giving up is that narcissistic hope that I'll ever be an Amalah or a Dooce, or even a Molly or an Isabel.  And I'm okay with that.  I haven't totally wiped my Google Reader slate clean, but I have pruned it back a bit.  And I may not comment on every single one of those blogs that remain, but at least now I'll be able to say that I AM reading every single one.  In a day and age where businesses and schools are focusing on getting back to basics, I'm going to try to do the same thing.  I'm going to try to find that same joy in blogging that I felt even if I didn't get a single comment on my post and my most consistent readers were my parents and a creepy Spam-Bot.  So, for now at least, you're stuck with me.  And honestly, I hope I'll be around for a very long time.  That I'll always have this living document, this story of my life, even if it's of absolutely no interest to anyone else.

Not to mention, have you seen the teaser for the next season of The Hills??  I couldn't live with myself if I didn't have this outlet for my recaps...

Still Looking For a Way to Spend That Stimulus Check?

Why not give me the money?  I'll even give you something in return!

Recently the cash flow into our household has been primarily due to Colby's hard work, while the cash flow OUT of the house has been mostly my territory.  It's funny how decorating a house, enrolling in grad school, and eating three square meals a day really eats into your budget.  So, in an effort to make myself feel a little more worthwhile as I troll the Craigslist part time job listings while watching Army Wives, I decided to clean out our closets and hold a little virtual garage sale with the help of half.com and eBay.

So, if you're in the market for a Marc Jacobs purse, some Aldo shoes, or fetching Pottery Barn decor, amongst other items, please have a look at the oh so fabulous deals you can get over here.

And if seventy five cent books are more your speed, well, Barnes & Noble had better watch out, because have I got the bookstore for you!

Anyway, this is the last weekend Colby and I will have together for quite some time, so I imagine for the next week or so, my posting around here will be rather light.  Not that I think you would be on pins and needles awaiting my next post, but you know, I just didn't want you to think that Friday the 13th had done me in or anything.  So, steer clear of black cats and don't open any umbrellas indoors, and you should have a great weekend!

(PS I've heard that buying things is a good way to ward off the evil spirits of Friday the 13th.  It's probably just an old wives tale... that I just made up... but do you really want to risk it?)

Self Indulgent Whining--Feel Free to Look Away

I've always felt very strongly that blogging should be a two-way conversation, otherwise, we'd all just be writing our thoughts down in spiral bound notebooks or moleskin journals.  I remember commenting on blogs when I first started my own site, almost three years ago, and the excitement I felt when a blogger would then comment back on my blog.  And oftentimes that person would return again and again so that a friendship was forged through all of those wires and hamsters on wheels that make up the internet.  I also remember commenting over and over again on blogs and never getting any sort of response to my words, and how that made me feel a little bit invisible, or not important enough to be recognized.

From that point on, I resolved that if a person took the time to comment on my blog, I would reply, even if it was just to say thank you for taking a few minutes out of your day to share your thoughts.  I would visit their blog in return, and get to know them through their most recent posts.  I would comment or add them to my reader and hopefully, over time, another friendship would be cultivated through nothing but through words typed on a computer screen across the miles.  I just didn't want to become another blogger who was too busy to take the time to let her commenters and readers know how important they were to her.

Since I made that decision, I have done a pretty good job of sticking by my resolution, and I've met so many fantastic bloggers and have made so many great friends through our back and forth emails.  But recently, I've felt that resolve slipping away, and it is beginning to feel like more of a chore to open up Google Reader and see 100+ new posts to read or check my email to see those piles of comments that I've yet to respond to.  I get so excited when I see a new face around here, but then I get a little anxious when I realize it's another person that I'll need to visit that day.

I know, don't I sound like an absolute brat?  The thing is, when I was chained to a desk all day with nothing else to do, there was plenty of time to really enjoy the interaction that comes with blogging.  It didn't feel like a chore, because I really liked all of the "duties" I'd assigned myself.  And who knows, probably I'm just going through a phase right now, and with a little time off, I'll bounce back and be ready for some marathon blog'n'commenting sessions.  But for right now, I need a break.

I'm still reading your blogs daily, I'm still loving that you take a moment to comment on my blog, and I'm still adding you to my reader if you're visiting for the first time.  But for at least a little while, I need to step away from all of my self-imposed blogging rules and not respond to every comment or comment on every blog.  Instead I'm going to actually shut down the computer from time to time and enjoy my last month with my husband before he leaves for his deployment.  I'm going to find the perfect duvet cover and curtains for our bedroom that is STILL unfinished after a year and a half of living here.  I'm going to throw the tennis ball for Ellie a little more often, and scratch Jack's belly while we watch Ellen.  And then, after a little time off to reassess the rules for blogging that I made when I got about 50 page views per day, I'll be back.

I'm curious--how do you all feel about this aspect of blogging?  The part that goes beyond just writing down your thoughts and then pressing "Publish Now".  Do you respond to every comment?  Do you try to add everyone who comments on your blog to your blogroll?  Do you comment on the majority of posts, or just when the spirit moves you?  If you're a lurker, I'm quite curious to hear about your thoughts on commenting and how you feel if you do take a moment to comment and then don't get any sort of response.  Look at me, asking for comments after I just spent six paragraphs whinging on about how I'm so worn out from commenting.  I'm such an asshat!

Update: Not Dead From Ghost Attack

Damn, I seriously suck at blogging regularly when I'm not chained to a desk from 9-5 every week day.

Anyway, I just wanted to dispel any fears that I may have been taken hostage by a ghostly being who is demanding one Morgan dollar minted in 1898 and rights to my computer between the hours of 11:00 pm and 6:00 am in exchange for my release.

No, instead I've just been reveling in the joys of having my favorite guy back home from the deployment he was sent out on two days after we got home from Italy.  Yesterday, we spent the entire day rooted to the couch watching a full day's worth of Torchwood and Doctor Who, but today we got a little more adventurous and tried out a new sushi restaurant before taking the dogs hiking at Point Defiance and then rewarding ourselves for our physical exertion with multiple quarts of Cold Stone Creamery signature blends.

I promise to get my act together next week and knock out those Italy reminiscences and then move on to the always exciting topic of I'm Going to a Wedding At the End of the Month, and Must Look Mind Blowingly Gorgeous Because There Is a High Degree of Possibility That Stupid Jerk Boy Will Be There, So What Should I Wear (Not That It Really Matters, But Come On, Who Doesn't Want to Be The Winner in Life)?

But right now, I am going to go collapse into bed next to the very unstupid, nonjerk boy that is snoring like a chainsaw upstairs, and who agreed, without hesitation, to accompany me to the theater this weekend to see My Fair Lady.  Am I not the luckiest girl in the world?  A bientot!

WTF??

I was planning to write about our time in Rome today, but that has been trumped by a very bizarre incident that has just taken place.  An incident that I'm hoping maybe the internet will be able to explain away so that I am able to sleep tonight.

Because you see, I have just discovered that there is a very strong possibility that I am being haunted by a coin collecting ghost.

I suppose out of all of the different variations of paranormal phenomena to inhabit ones house, the spirit of a numismatist with a penchant for 19th century coinage would probably be one of my safer bets.  But still, y'all, I am more than a little weirded out.

Let me explain.  I spent the early part of the afternoon catching up on season 3 of Weeds on my computer, and when I got to episode six, the video was taking a little longer than usual to load.  Instead of sitting around, watching the percentage bar increase, I decided to do a little much needed housework.  Well, before I knew it, an hour and a half had gone by, it occurred to me that Weeds had probably finished loading.

So, I finished wiping down the counters and then moseyed back over to the sofa to resume my previous Weeds watching position.  Before I hit play I did a quick email and Facebook check, and that's when I saw it--a secondary window hiding behind the Firefox window I was using.  I clicked on the window, mildly curious, but mostly thinking it would just be an ad, and what to my wondering eyes should appear?  No, not an ad--an eBay search results page.

The search term?  Morgan Dollar.  And in case you're wondering, like I was

The Morgan Dollar is a silver United States dollar coin. The dollars were minted from 1878 to 1904 and again for one more year in 1921. The Morgan Dollar is named after its designer, George T. Morgan, who designed the obverse and reverse of the coin. Morgan's monogram appears near Lady Liberty's neck on the obverse. The dollar was authorized by the Bland-Allison Act of 1878. It has a fineness of .900, giving a total silver content of 0.77344 (24.057 grams) per coin.

Thanks Wikipedia!  Also, HUH???

Fortunately, it does seem that my coin loving ghost is not a permanent resident of my house, as he (or she!) set the shipping calculator to a different zip code.  However, if you happen to live in or around Carson City, Nevada, you may want to keep a close eye on your change, or at least any Morgan Dollars that you happen to have lying around.

Thank God Colby is coming home tonight and I won't have to go to bed alone, because for the next few days, every single noise I hear in the dead of night will have me convinced that a being from another world has come to raid our change bowl or use my computer.  And I mean, I know that my shiny white MacBook is very pretty, but seriously ghost, use some of that change you love so much to buy your own!

The Geeky Fun Never Ends!

Update:  Okay, so feed readers are having problems picking up on the domain change.  Prepare yourself for some technical speak while I explain what I think is the issue.  Currently katiescarlett36.com and wickedlyscarlett.com are both mapped to katiescarlett36.typepad.com.  I think because I have two domains mapped to the same blog, the feed readers are seeing both of those URLs as one and the same, so when you try to update, it's telling you that you're already subscribed.  The domain forwarding has gone into effect, so now when you type in katiescarlett36.com, you are automatically forwarded to wickedlyscarlett.com.  The only solution I can come up with is to deactivate katiescarlett36.com next week, and hopefully at that point everyone's readers will still pick up the feed for the blog.  If not, well, I don't know.  As Ashley put it, the internet is hard.

So, I think we're pretty close to being in business with this whole domain switch over thing!  Thanks to a person who is far more intelligent in the ways of the internet than I, www.wickedlyscarlett.com has been whipped into shape and now seems to work properly as a URL for my site.  Permalinks are still defaulting to katiescarlett36.com, but within the next few days the website forwarding should be all updated, and wickedlyscarlett.com will be the main link.

I'll keep katiescarlett36.com up and running for a little while longer, however, I would just love, love, love it if you could all start switching over your linky loos and feed readers to www.wickedlyscarlett.com, please, please cheddar cheese with a cherry on top.

Strangely enough, while www.wickedlyscarlett.com appears to work beautifully, wickedlyscarlett.com does not.  I (read: my far more intelligent friend) am working on getting this straightened out, but in the meantime, please let me know if you're running into any broken links or having problems commenting or just gazing upon my beauteous page.

Finally, I have noticed that a rather larger number of Angela's have begun popping up around internetland than in days of yore, and there is nothing that feels stranger than writing a comment as "Angela" when two other Angelas have commented before me.  It makes me feel like I'm suffering from some kind of multiple personality disorder.  So, I am toying with the idea of commenting under the name "Wickedly Scarlett".  1) To set myself apart and 2) Because it sounds freaking awesome.

Anywhozit, I'm hoping that when I hit publish, everything will go smoothly and the internet won't blow up in my face.  I am remaining cautiously optimistic.

I Hope I'm Still Here Tomorrow

Oh good God, I am so technologically inept.  Trying to manage a blog is so very humbling, and it's resulting in a case of severe Internet Multiple Personality Disorder.  Seriously, knowing how to check your voice mail, set a DVR to record multiple shows at the same time, and forward your email to your phone all make you think that you are totally technology savvy, but then you attempt to change domain names and the internet just blows up in your face.

I feel a little bit like Tom Hanks in Castaway, just floating all alone on a sea of endless internet waters that I have no clue how to navigate, on the tiny little raft created from the four things I know about how the internet works.  I'm a little bit afraid that I'm going to break the whole internet.  One false move and the entire thing is going to come tumbling down around my ears.

Anyway, what I am trying (so far unsuccessfully) to do is move my blog over to a new URL--www.wickedlyscarlett.com.  (My dear mother won that contest that we'd all forgotten about, and I'm hoping that I'm not going to be slammed with numerous nepotism lawsuits now.)  I also contemplated moving over to Wordpress because hello, it is FREE.  So, I exported my blog, bought the new domain name and started setting up shop... and I did not like it.  Typepad is so easy for the less than advanced internet user and with Wordpress I felt like I really couldn't make all of the customizations that I wanted to without knowing how to actually build a website.

I'm only one chapter into my web design textbook, and quite frankly, I'm already confused, so I've got a long way to go before I'm diving into the deep end of the CSS pool.

So I think I'm rejecting Wordpress, even though it is free (sob!) and now I'm trying to get my Typepad blog to redirect to both katiescarlett36.com AND wickedlyscarlett.com until my claim on the former URL runs out in August.  I'm not sure how this is going to work.  I'm afraid to delete my Wordpress blog because I bought the domain through them, and I'm worried that might delete my claim on the domain.  And yet I'm skeptical as to whether or not Typepad will be able to redirect to wickedlyscarlett.com because the Wordpress blog is already hanging out at that URL.  So now my blog can apparently be found at three, maybe four different URLs, and I don't think that any of them are completely correct.

My head hurts, and I'm at that point where I don't even really understand the questions I'm asking.  I think I finally understand that saying about a little knowledge being a very dangerous thing.

Ultimately, what it has taken me seven paragraphs to say, is that I am in the midst of a lot of technical internet crap, and if my blog disappears or looks weird over the next few days, that is why.  Please, send chocolate.  And a web designer.

This Weekend I...

...Finally finished writing and addressing all of our wedding gift thank you notes!  Today I have to go buy stamps, but by tomorrow, those suckers will be in the mail and winging their way to our patient and generous friends and family!

... Had a fun filled movie night courtesy of On Demand and my evil DVR.  At least it managed to record all of Pride & Prejudice without chopping off the last half.  And is it just me, or would it have been all that difficult to find a somewhat more smoldering Mr. Darcy?  I know Colin Firth really made the role his own, but Matthew Macfayden's portrayal really is just a pale imitation.

... Managed to beat Colby at Scrabulous even while thousands of miles apart.  I will have the grace to admit that it was indeed a very close game.  He's a worthy opponent, although I still reign as the undefeated champion in our household.

... Broke in our lovely new elliptical machine with two 30 minute workouts that left me sweaty, breathless, and with the realization of how horrifically out of shape I've gotten in the past few months.  I've got a long way to go if I want to be a svelte, elegant American in Italy in just a few more weeks!

... Watched six episodes of that classic 90's television series, Party of Five, again, courtesy of On Demand.  I spent most of the nineties watching Nick at Nite, ABC's TGIF lineup, and The X-Files, so all of those favorites of my peers such as Party of Five, Beverly Hills 90210, and My So Called Life are a whole new world to me now.  I really had no idea that Matthew Fox existed before Lost, and I'm loving him with his long flowing locks.   And this was probably giggled about 15 years ago, but does anyone else find it amusing that the surnames of two of the leading actors are "Fox" and "Wolf"?

... Made two decisions regarding The Great Shoe Quest!  The results really will be coming this week, I promise!  I know I said the same thing last week, unfortunately, Zappos' new shipping policy has made reorders a bit difficult, and apparently Privo shoes have a HUGE disparity in size compared to the rest of the shoes in my closet.  Watch this space--results coming SOON!!

I've reached the conclusion that it's a really good thing I married Colby, so that I'm forced out of the house from time to time.  If I had my way, I'd never change out of my pajamas and cross the threshold unless we were running low on dog food.  How was your weekend?  I hope you managed to leave the house at least once!

A Contest and Some Housecleaning

I am sick.  (Warning:  This next sentence is not for the faint of heart.)  This morning, when I was brushing my teeth I discovered that my mouth was bleeding profusely, and I know not from where.  My gums seemed fine, but my throat was exceedingly sore, and I decided that must be the source of the Carrie reenactment going on in my sink.  I don't know if this is actually true or not, but I do know that every time I swallow, it feels like a thousand knives are fighting their way down my esophagus.  The result of this mysterious throat Ebola is that I'm going to be a big old slacker about posting today, and leave most of the work up to you guys.

1. You may have noticed that I turned off the captchas that used to come on when you would submit your comment for approval.  I feel like they're a giant pain in the arse, but I've started having some spam issues again, so I may turn them back on just so I can stop deleted comments about penis enlargements and online casinos.  So, tell me honestly, just how much of a hassle are those things?  (The captchas, not the penis enlargements.)
2. I've found this really spiffy program called Blurb that will turn your blog into a book.  I'm not going to tell you how much of my time is spent worrying that I'm going to wake up one morning to find that Typepad has been hijacked by terrorists, with Jack Bauer nowhere to be found until 2009, and all of my years of drivel will be held at gunpoint and then destroyed before my very eyes.  Also, I would like to think that maybe someday I'll have kids who will want to read about my life before they were even a glimmer in my eye, and I think they would be more likely to read something in book form than a sprawling website.
3. My domain name registration will be expiring in August, and I think the time has come to maybe relocate to a little more high class neighborhood on the internet.  When I first signed up for a domain name, I wasn't really thinking about what I was doing, and I just entered in my email address at the time, thus giving birth to the dumbest URL ever--katiescarlett36.com--how great is that?  It's my favorite character in literature combined with my old BRA SIZE.  Brilliant.  Anyway, this is where the contest comes in to play.

THE CONTEST!!

I suck at titles.  I think that has been made very clear over the course of the past few years on this here website as well as in my own personal writing.  I mean, come on, the one thing I've had published was titled... wait for it... WORKING TITLE!!!  It makes sense in context, but still, come on!  I've always sucked at titles, and am so envious of people that have really clever, catchy URLs.  I thought about using my name, but for some reason, that freaks me out a little bit.  I know I'm not anonymous, and I splash my picture all over this joint, but having my name just blazing away up there in the address bar kind of unnerves me.  I thought about tomorrowisanotherday.com or fiddledeedee.com, alas, both of those are already taken.  And that's it, I'm pretty much spent.

So, I am thinking that with all of the clever, witty bloggers, friends, and family that read here on a regular basis (or semi-regular, that's fine too!), maybe someone would have a great idea for a catchy URL.  There really aren't any rules.  You can throw out any ideas, and at the end of an arbitrarily set date, lets say... the last day of March, I'll choose one of the ideas and the winner will get a $15 gift card to the retailer of their choice--Target, Starbucks, Barnes & Noble... it's up to you!

Interview with a Blogger

Oh, dear readers.  Be grateful that today's scheduled blog post is an interview with Erin of The State That I Am In, because otherwise, you would be subjected to a very long sob fest about how I woke up this morning, not with crows feet around my eyes, but PTERODACTYL feet.  It is true.  Lines so deep and so large, I actually thought for a moment that I had been tricked into some kind of hundred year sleep by a crew of spritely elves only to wake up and find that the world had been taken over by Daleks and I was a shriveled old version of myself.  Then I would whinge on about how ooooold I am, which depending on your own age, you would either completely agree with or have to resist the urge to sucker punch me, and how much it sucks to live in a society controlled by evil mutants without emotions.

Sigh.

Anyway, I had the pleasure of interviewing Erin for The Great Interview Experiment that I participated in last week, and I must admit, after the time I spent reading her blog to get ideas for my questions, I kind of love her.  She's a fan of Harry Potter, Project Runway, shoes, and books, and on top of all that, she is a teacher, which I happen to think is just about the noblest profession.  I had a great time reading her answers, and hope you all enjoy this little glimpse into the life of a fellow blogger.

1) Are there any specific experiences you've had that inspired you to work as a teacher to young children with special needs?  Which of your own childhood teachers has left the most lasting impression on you?
I first read about Helen Keller when I was in 2nd grade. I found her story absolutely fascinating, and I really consider that the beginning of my interest in people who have different abilities. I taught myself to fingerspell and to identify braille letters by the time I was in 3rd grade. My friend Heather and I played Anne Sullivan and Helen Keller in a play in 3rd grade. In fifth grade I wrote a speech about a great American Invention, and I chose American Sign Language. I guess my point is, that the education of people with different abilities was a passion of mine that started very early in life. I can't imagine doing anything else.

Growing up, I was always very inspired by my teachers. I always thought about what it would be like to teach the grade I was in. However, one teacher always stands out in my mind -- Martha, my teacher at the Montessori school I attended. Yes, I called her by her first name. In Martha's classroom, I felt free to explore my interests, supported in the areas I struggled with, and valued as a person and as a learner. I try each and every day to create that supportive type of environment for my students.

2) Rufus and Kaya are adorable.  What is your favorite story to tell about each of them?
Let's see, my favorite Rufus story?  That's tricky, there are so many good stories.  Rufus is a short little dog, but he thinks he is the big dog on campus. I always get a laugh when we go to the dog park. "What a cute little puppy!" Yes, he's short, but he's tough! Rufus always goes charging up to the biggest dog in the park to make sure that they know he's the boss! All the other dog owners get worried that Rufus is going to get hurt, but Rufus is a super-dog. He can take on any dog in the park, and he does so quite willingly!

As for Kaya, we haven't had her for that long, but I still love to think about how she learned to cuddle with us. Kaya is a high-strung and anxious dog. She always wants to be close to us, but she has a hard time slowing down. When we first got her, Kaya wanted to sit on the couch with us all the time. Trouble was, when she would get on the couch, she just couldn't stop moving...I don't mean shifting positions either. Kaya couldn't stop walking in circles all over us. Not comfortable for anyone involved. Eventually, after we held her still a few times, she started to get the hang of laying down on the couch. Now she's a couch laying pro, even if she does crush us a bit!

3)  You're a Project Runway fan!  Which designer this season would you choose to design your own personal wardrobe and why?
This is a tough question! I think that I would have Jillian design my everyday wardrobe. She is meticulous and has great attention to detail. Her designs aren't always my favorite, but I think I could talk her into making me some stylish, yet functional, teacher clothes. However, if I ever had the need for fancy evening wear, I'd call on Rami. I love his draped dresses....although I do wish he'd come up with something new once in a while!

4) If you could travel anywhere in the world, for as long as you wanted, where would you go and who would you want to bring with you?
Well, I'd bring my husband, of course. There's no one I'd rather travel the world with. And if we could travel anywhere, I really think we'd travel everywhere. However, the places I'd be most excited to visit are: England, Ireland, Spain, France, Italy, India, Australia, and my beloved Africa. I think we would spend the most time visiting as much of the continent of Africa as we possibly could. It might make up for the Peace Corps stringing us along and then rejecting us right before we were supposed to leave (I swear, I'm over the bitterness. Really!).

5) You've made the life-changing decision to try for a baby this year, congratulations!  What traits of yours do you hope your baby inherits? Which of your husband's?
I hope the baby inherits both of our love of reading. That baby is going to be awfully out of place in a house full of books if he isn't a reader! As for my husband's traits, I'd like the baby to inherit his creativity, his musical talent, and his cooking skills...oh, and his curly hair. I'd like the baby to inherit my paper writing skills (I can't stand to watch Ted write a paper), my organizational skills, and my crazy sense of humor....oh, and the ability of my hair NOT to fall out!

6) If you were to receive that very special invitation to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, into which house would you hope to be sorted?
I would have to be sorted into Gryffindor.  How else would I get close enough to Ron for him to fall in love with and marry me?

7)  How long have you been blogging, and what made you decide not to blog anonymously?  Do you ever regret that decision?
I started blogging in 2004, shortly after my wedding. Someone I knew at the time had a blog, and I thought it looked like fun, so I started my own. In the past year, I have become a much more dedicated blogger. It helps that my computer is now in a room that I actually use, rather than tucked back in the scary office of our old apartment.

I feel like I blog semi-anonymously. I use my first name and photograph....but if you google me using my full name, my blog doesn't come up. Since I started blogging before I was an actual teacher, it never occurred to me at the time to use a pseudonym. Now that I blog about work, I feel like I have to be very careful about what I say on my blog. I have actually considered password-protecting my "teacher" posts....wonder how my readers would feel about that? So, no I don't really regret not being more anonymous, but there are days when I would like to tell a teacher story that I just don't feel comfortable telling....more to protect my students and families than myself.

8) The writer's strike is over now, joy of joys!  Did you find that you missed your tv shows, or was it surprisingly easy to entertain yourself in other ways?  What show are you most excited about returning to the airwaves?
I missed my tv shows a lot less than I expected to. There was plenty of crap on tv for my to rot my brain with. Plus, the writer's strike allowed me to go to bed early without worrying about missing shows. I am waiting for Pushing Daisies to come back. It was the only show that I really missed watching, and now I've got to wait until next fall to see it again! Lost is on now, so I don't have to wait for it to return. The only other show I kind of missed was Grey's Anatomy...and the truth is, the longer it was gone, the less I missed it.

9)  What is your favorite wedding day memory?
Well, besides the whole getting married part, I think my favorite wedding day memory is of my own personal paparazzi. We got married on a large charter boat, and we rented out the top deck of the boat for our reception. The lower deck was rented out by an Korean tourist group....and the lower deck was also the location of the bathroom and dance floor. Let me tell you, those Koreans couldn't have been more excited that we were getting married. I think my picture was taken at least nine million times.....including when I was trying to go to the bathroom. It was fun, and I felt like a celebrity for the day!

10) You also love shoes and books--it's like you're my kindred spirit! What is your favorite pair of shoes and your favorite book?  How many times have you read it?
Is it lame that my favorite book is the Harry Potter series? I've read those books more times than I've read anything else...I've read each book at least twice, and many of the books I've read at least 5 times.  The story is great, the characters are memorable, and I just plain can't get enough of it!

I just bought these shoes, and, even though it's been too snowy for me to actually wear them....well, I declare them my favorite anyway! Not only are they cute and comfortable....but I only paid $20 for them!

Homeless in Seattle

When I was growing up, my two experiences with the homeless population consisted of trying to avoid eye contact with the bedraggled men and women who would stand at busy intersections or interstate exit ramps, holding poorly spelled signs begging for money, and the handful of times that my church youth group went to serve food at one of the local shelters.  Aside from that, I didn't really think about the plight of the homeless very much and when I did it was just to say with a dismissing wave, "Well, they should just get a job!"

Now that I live near and work in Seattle, I'm faced with homelessness on a near daily basis, and over the past few months I've begun to feel a great deal more compassion for them now than I did in my earlier years.  The first day I made the journey from the train station to my office building, I was more than a little terrified of the rows of bodies, tucked under their shelter distributed blankets, and the straggly haired men who would leer at me and shout obscenities or ask for spare change.  But as the months passed, the nights became colder and the rain began to fall far more frequently, and my annoyance and fear started to change to sadness and helplessness.  Clearly these people had nowhere else to go, the shelters were full, and so they turned to awnings and bus shelters to help protect them from the elements.

I'm not a total innocent.  I know that a lot of these people are probably where they are because they can't hold a job--whether it's due to alcohol, drug use, or laziness.  But I really believe that there are a large percentage of people who are there because life won't give them a break.  I could guess a million different reasons that all of these people are living on the streets, but the truth of the matter is that we can never really know what has happened in a person's past to bring them to the life they're currently living.

Of course, I still get annoyed when I see someone simultaneously begging for money and chatting on their cell phone, and I would be lying if I said I didn't feel a little dart of fear when someone screams at me unintelligibly or glowers at me from their street corner.  And yes, I do find it a little irritating that it's impossible to sit on one of the benches on the water and enjoy the beautiful view, because they're all taken up by homeless people.  But I've had two encounters over the past few months that have really made me see the situation in a totally different light.

The first time a homeless man approached me from behind and walked with me the last few blocks to work, I'll admit, I was more than a little frightened.  It was broad daylight, we were surrounded by people on a busy road, and it seemed that he just wanted a little morning conversation.  But as I responded to his words with monosyllables and half-smiles, I still felt a tinge of apprehension.  Then, just before we reached the place where I split off to cross the street, he said something that really affected me.  He was talking about his shelter breakfast of Eggos and juice, and how much he would love a big plate of eggs and bacon, but then he said with a sardonic grin, "But beggars can't be choosers!"

As I stood there, watching him walk down the street, his flannel pajama pants flapping in the wind and a jacket pulled tightly around his body, I couldn't stop thinking about what he'd said.  It was the first time I'd ever heard the old saying spoken with such a literal meaning, and I couldn't get the self-mocking look on his face when he'd said it out of my head.

Last week there was a terrible grey day when the wind was whipping mercilessly, and there was a cold dampness in the air that penetrated to my bones.  It had been a long day at work, and I was walking with my head down, my cheeks were stinging from the wind.  All I wanted was to be sitting on the train, reading about Rhett and Scarlett for the nine thousandth time, on my way home.  As I stood at the corner, waiting for the light to change, someone walked up behind me and turned to me with a brilliant smile, the kind you can't help but return with a smile of your own.

He asked me how my day was, and as we were walking he related his story to me.  He'd been in Seattle for two years, trying to make it as a musician.  Over the holidays, he'd been playing the piano in department stores, but once January rolled around he'd been released from his job and had spent the past month trying to make it playing at dueling piano bars.  He'd just found out that his 96 year old grandmother in Australia was dying, and his parents were sending him a plane ticket and telling him to come back home.  Until the ticket arrived, he was selling the homeless newspaper, just trying to make it through these final cold, winter days on the street.  He was probably in his late thirties, but he looked at least fifty.  He could have been lying through his teeth for all I know, but he was kind, funny, a little sad, but incredibly positive, smiling during our entire walk together.  As he broke off to go into a corner market, he thanked me for talking to him.  I wish now that I had gone in with him and bought him a coffee and a sandwich.

Because you see, that's where the trouble lies.  I feel so incredibly helpless when faced with these hordes of homeless people, because really, what is there that I can do?  I could give them money, but it would be a fleeting solution to a permanent problem, and I can't afford to be passing out dollar bills on the way to and from work every morning.  I could help direct them to a shelter, but the vast majority of them are already sitting across the street from a shelter, so that seems a little pointless. 

So all I'm left with is smiling at them when they make eye contact, speaking to them as though they're the human beings that they are and not just an anonymous being on the side of the road, and hoping against hope that they make it through another night. 

Blogging is Kind of Like Match.com For Friends

A couple of months ago, Colby and I decided to use some of our wedding gift card money to buy new bedding for the master bedroom.  We have almost the entire house finished now, with the typical exception of our own room.  The walls are painted, and while I hate the blah, neutral color we decided on, it does provide quite the blank slate for decorating.  So, we ordered bedding from Pottery Barn, and then sat back and awaited its arrival while I dreamed up window treatment ideas.

Eventually the package arrived at our doorstep, but unfortunately, the duvet cover was too large and so back in the box it went for the exchange.  The box then sat on my counter for about a week until I remembered to bring it with me to work, where it then resided under my desk while I worked up the energy to take the elevator ALL THE WAY downstairs and then make the brutal trek next door to the UPS Store.

Finally, a couple of weeks ago, I bundled up, tucked the box under my arm and made the long journey next door.  I filled out the shipping paperwork, and then zoned out while waiting for the woman in front of me to go through every possible shipping option available for three different packages all going to different locations.  I was staring off into middle distance, quite possibly slack-jawed when a voice floated into my consciousness:

"Are you... Angela?"

I turned around, trying not to look totally dazed and saw a pretty, and oddly familiar brunette standing behind me in line.  I immediately started flipping through the mental Rolodex, trying to place the face...  A wife or girlfriend of someone in Colby's squadron?  Someone I had met through work?  An old school friend that had relocated to the Northwest?

Thankfully, once I had answered in the affirmative, she was kind enough to identify herself as Ashley, one of my more recently acquired blog friends.  Of course, as soon as she said her name, I immediately recognized her from her picture, and we spent the next few minute laughing about the surreal meeting that had just taken place.  On top of randomly deciding to visit the same UPS Store at the same time, it was revealed that we actually work in the same building.

My world just keeps getting smaller, and smaller.

Last week, after a bit of back and forth emailing, we scheduled lunch together along with another long-time blog friend, Dawn, who has recently relocated to Seattle from Chicago.  I had a great time meeting them "in real life", and as always was taken aback by how very much it felt like I'd already known them for ages.  This weekend, Ashley and I got together again, with one of her incredibly sweet and funny friends and one of my friends, and went for drinks and a movie downtown.

It's a little crazy how many of my friends have come from the world of the internet--be it the long distance relationship message board that sustained me through my trials and tribulations while dating Colby from across the country, or the people who have shared their lives with me through their blogs from across the world.  I have trouble opening up to people in real life--I form lots of friendly acquaintances with really wonderful people, but very rarely do I let people get too far beyond that level of friendship.  I have a small and wonderful group of extremely close friends--most of whom run in very separate circles themselves--and I cherish them with all of my heart.  They are the people that you can live 2,000 miles away from and talk to on the phone once a month and still feel just as close to them as you did when you were next door neighbors, or roommates, or international travel buddies.  But by blogging, and letting you all into my life in a very private way, there's a sort of bond that is formed that can often translate into real life friendship very easily, but unfortunately not nearly as often as it should.

Anyway, I guess this is just a big thank you to all of you who have let me have a peek into your life and have supported me and laughed with me and cried with me throughout the years.  It's very easy at times to get overwhelmed by the feed reader, to open up Typepad and wonder why on earth I do this.  And then I randomly run into a lovely person at the UPS Store that I probably never would have spoken to if it weren't for our penchant for sharing our thoughts with the internet, and I'm reminded why I keep coming back day after day.  I could very easily keep a private diary, or password protect my posts, but then I wouldn't know all of YOU.  And where's the fun in that!

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Well, actually, gone day before yesterday.

BEFORE

(This was the most recent photo I could find where I was wearing my hair down, and it was taken almost two months ago, so try to imagine it about an inch longer.)

AFTER

Horrible self portraiture aside, I really quite like the new hair.  It took about half as long to dry, and now I just have to figure out the perfect combination of styling products.  I really want to try this volumizer to see if it will give my hair a bit more lift, but since I've hit my $300 limit for the month, I'll have to wait until February to test it out.  For now I'll have to make do with the various root sprays, mousses, and serums currently residing in my hair drawer.

I can tell my hair is having trouble hanging on to the color, probably because it's been so blonde for so long.  I usually try to space my hair appointments out to 8 weeks rather than the recommended 6, but I think for the next few months I'll have to go in more frequently than I like until the color builds up enough to not wash out within the first week.

While I'm still working out the styling kinks, overall I'm really happy with how the cut and color turned out.  I really felt like my stylist listened to what I was asking for rather than nodding her head and then doing whatever she pleased.  It took me almost 8 months, but I think I can finally say I've found my perfect Washington hair dresser--YAY!! 

A Sunny Disposition

Yes, there are still clouds in the forecast, yes, there's still a chance of rain, but people, I can SEE the SUN!!  I haven't seen the sun since New Year's Eve and I was seriously beginning to consider doing a visit to a tanning bed, which goes against all of the preaching I do about the evils of UV rays and skin cancer.  But look at that forecast!  Three days in a row with the sunshine peeking out from behind the clouds!  How can I look at that and not smile?

I can't wait for this weekend.  I don't have any wild and crazy plans, but I do have an appointment scheduled to get my hair cut and colored tomorrow.  I've been looking forward to this day for months now, and I feel a giddy combination of nervousness and excitement.  I still don't have a solid idea in my mind of exactly what I want, but I have a few pictures to bring in and a lot of trust in my stylists coloring opinions.  I still want to go darker, but it's going to be just as much a surprise to me as it will be for you to see what I end up with.  I just can't wait to be able to wear my hair down without it just hanging there, mocking me with its limpness and split ends.

And last night I started writing.  It's something so different from what I thought I would want to write, but I have these people that have been inside my brain now for a few weeks and I want to see what they'll do when I put them down on paper.  I'm not sure what will come of it.  Maybe it will end up in the same folder as my other half finished novel, but I'm interested to see where I can take it and where it will take me.  Colby and I have discussed instituting some "writing time" into my weekends.  It was actually his idea to set aside a couple of hours each Sunday when I can close myself in the office with nothing but my computer and my words.  Maybe I'll end up staring at the wall for two hours, but maybe something will come of it.  I don't know.  But I want to try.

Also, thank you to those of you who came out of "lurkdom" yesterday!  I always pore over my SiteMeter, enthralled by all of the different countries, states, and cities that my visitors come from, and I always wish I knew more about who you all are.  Please, feel free to continue to come out of hiding over the weekend, and if you do continue to read in silence, just know that I thank you for your presence anyway.  I hope you all have amazing weekends, and I'll be back on Monday with my hair Before and After shots!
 

Hey, Let's Talk About My Faults Some More!

Lest you think I sat around for the rest of the day yesterday preening after the compliment hit-and-run, my head growing exponentially larger with each preen (Digression:  Don't you just love the word preen?  I like to say it... preen, preen, preen... it just sounds so perfect!), let me assure you, that was not the case.  In fact, I do not take compliments well in the slightest.  I'm surprised that I was able to accept the remark from the gentleman without stuttering or bumbling my disagreement.  When someone compliments me, I typically suspect that they either want something from me or that they're blind.

So, while I felt all good about myself for about an hour, I eventually managed to burst my bubble by thinking of all of the other pretty ladies in the world with whom I have the pleasure of being acquainted.  And classy?  Since I spend about 95% of my time on the morning train sound asleep with my mouth hanging open, I'm not really sure where I'm exuding class and/or elegance.  Perhaps it's the way I politely close my mouth each time I wake up for a moment when the train stops at each station.  That's pretty classy.

Here's the thing about me and my level of self-confidence.  It's not terrible.  I mean, people don't run and hide when they see me coming, and I've never frightened a small child with my visage, but I definitely don't consider myself to be an Uber Hottie First Class.  I think I clean up rather well, and when looked at from the proper angle, I think I am even passably pretty, but lately every time I look in the mirror I kind of want to scream.

I've never had a glowing peaches and cream, English rose complexion.  I'm pale, but not in that alabaster, romance novel heroine kind of way.  I'm pale in that Casper the Ghost, oh my God, check to see if she's breathing kind of way.  But even with the paleness and the irritating red patches, I was never the kid with the terrible complexion.  I had my fair share of pimples, but in the past couple of years--years that I thought would be spectacularly blemish free--I've inherited the face of a fourteen year old.  On a regular basis I have at least six or seven blemishes on my face, and it's even spread to the dreaded bacne--THE HORROR!!!  I have no idea if it's stress related, hormone related, or if my face just hates me, but whatever it is, it's incredibly annoying and painful.  Many of the pimples aren't even your typical run of the mill type--they're those awful below the skin cystic kind that stick around for weeks and sometimes month.  I manage to cover it up fairly well with foundation, but I won't be caught dead in public without at least a heavy dose of concealer.

Oh my God, that paragraph was so gross.  You can go throw up now if you want, but then come back, because my next paragraph contains a hair question and I NEED YOU.

I'm so sick of my hair.  I was growing it out for the wedding, and now that the wedding is over and the holidays are here I haven't been able to fit in the time or budget for a hair cut.  I love my hair stylist, but the girl ain't cheap.  I can't wear my hair down anymore because it just hangs there looking all limp and thin, and I'm running out of cute ideas for wearing it up--I've done the ponytail, side ponytail, low braid, buns--any tips?  However, in the next few weeks I will be making a visit to the salon, and I'm ready for a big change.  I'm thinking Lexie Grey but without relinquishing my precious side swept bangs.

So what do you think?  I've had short hair before, and it makes my hair look much thicker and healthier, but I don't want to go any shorter than this.  And I'm so tired of being a blonde--it's wreaking havoc on my hair and it's been a few years now, time for a change.  Of course, I've also gone the brown route before, and while it started out kind of lovely, it mutated over time and ended rather horrifically when I woke up one morning and realized, oh my God, black hair does NOT WORK on you.  Although it is a testament to my relationship with Colby that he started dating me in my era of hideous hair and apparently seemed to like me anyway.  So, now, the voting, the opinions--I need the internet to tell me what to do!  I am incapable of making decisions without you!  Do you think there's anyway that my hairdresser could give me Chyler Leigh's cheekbones and jawline!

Um, right.

But seriously, do your part, let your voice be heard:

What should I do with my hair?
	Definitely Lexie Grey--chocolate brown and chin length
	I like the Lexie Grey cut, but a lighter color
	Other.  I'll leave a comment with my opinion on your misguided hair choices
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Random Acts of Kindness

This morning, the alarm goes off at 6:00, again at 6:15, and at 6:30, when I finally drag myself out of bed, still exhausted from our late night of Christmas wrapping and box packing, and I'm shivering and irritated at the sound of rain hitting the window pane.  I leave the house at ten after seven, drive to the train station and have to park closer to a curb than I would have liked given the two parking violations I've already received in the past two months.  I trudge to the station, still shivering, and grumbling about the lack of available parking.  I already dread the small, yellow slip of paper that might be tucked underneath my windshield wiper when I return in 11 hours and that would be added to the slowly growing collection on my passenger's seat.

I stand in line for the train with my head down, tucking myself tightly into my coat to attempt a feeling of warmth.  The train arrives and the man with the bicycle gets on first, just after the friendly station security guard informs him that he will need to get on with his bike last.  I grumble internally a bit more about how rude people are as I board the train and go to my customary top row, forward facing seat.  I make myself as comfortable as possible in the seat, and doze for the next 50 minutes as the train heads toward Seattle.

At 8:18 we pull into the Seattle station and I get off the train, unhappily reaching for my umbrella when I see that it has begun to rain again.  I walk down the street, groggy from the past 50 minutes of terrible sleep, and keep my head down once again, shielding my face from the biting cold wind.  As I near the halfway point in my walk, someone approaches from behind, and I sigh heavily, not in the mood to deal with the constant barrage of remarks or requests from the homeless men that heavily populate my route to work.

"Excuse me, miss."

I contemplate ignoring him and just increasing my pace, but he's already even with me on my right and so I'm forced to look at him or feel like a heartless bitch.  I'm surprised to see that it's a handsome, older gentleman wearing a nice beige overcoat and a dashing fedora cocked at ever so slight an angle. 

He smiles at me congenially when he says, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you, and I'm not trying to "hit on you" or be overly aggressive.  But I just have to tell you--I see you on the train every morning and I just think you are one of the classiest, prettiest ladies I've ever seen."

I'm in shock for a moment, and then I feel a smile breaking over my face, and I giggle as I tell him, "You've just made my day!"

He laughs and nods politely as we part ways, and suddenly my head is up and I feel a bounce in my step that hasn't been there in weeks.  It's a small reminder that a little bit of human interaction can change the course of a day.  I hold the door for the person behind me as I walk into my office building and I smile at the person with whom I share the elevator. 

Tomorrow, maybe I'll be grumbling about the rain, or the parking, or the cold, but today?  Today, I'm smiling because of one person who went a little bit out of their way to be kind.

Lots of Books Just Got Added to My "Read on the Train" List

Ah, Sunday, what a perfect day for a mindless post!  I have a book buying obsession, so many of these books are already on my bookshelf to be read at some point in the future.  After going through this list, I'm a bit ashamed at how many f these books I've never read and am ready to get started.  If you'd like to play along consider yourself tagged, and if not, just come back tomorrow for a real post!

What you do is take the following list of books (the top 106 marked most often as "unread" by LibraryThing’s users) bold the ones you've read, italicize the ones you started but couldn't finish, strike through the ones you really sort of hated, put an asterisk next to the ones you've read more than once, and underline the ones on your own personal To Be Read list.

Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell
Anna Karenina
Crime and Punishment
Catch-22
One Hundred Years of Solitude
Wuthering Heights**
The Silmarillion
Life of Pi
The Name of the Rose
Don Quixote
Moby Dick
Ulysses
Madame Bovary
The Odyssey
Pride and Prejudice**
Jane Eyre
A Tale of Two Cities
The Brothers Karamazov
Guns, Germs, and Steel: the fates of human societies
War and Peace
Vanity Fair
The Time Traveler’s Wife
The Iliad
Emma**
The Blind Assassin
The Kite Runner
Mrs Dalloway
Great Expectations
American Gods
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius
Atlas Shrugged
Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books
Memoirs of a Geisha
Middlesex
Quicksilver
Wicked : The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West
The Canterbury Tales
The Historian : A Novel**
A Portrait of the Artist As A Young Man
Love In the Time of Cholera
Brave New World
The Fountainhead
Foucault’s Pendulum
Middlemarch
Frankenstein
The Count of Monte Cristo
Dracula**
A Clockwork Orange
Anansi Boys
The Once and Future King
The Grapes of Wrath
The Poisonwood Bible
1984
Angels & Demons
The Inferno
The Satanic Verses
Sense and Sensibility**
The Picture of Dorian Gray
Mansfield Park
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
To the Lighthouse
Tess of the D’Urbervilles
Oliver Twist
Gulliver’s travels
Les Misérables
The Corrections
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay
The curious incident of the dog in the night-time
Dune
The Prince
The Sound and the Fury
Angela’s Ashes
The god of small things
A people’s history of the United States : 1492-present
Cryptonomicon
Neverwhere
A confederacy of dunces
A short history of nearly everything
Dubliners
The unbearable lightness of being
Beloved
Slaughterhouse-five
The Scarlet Letter
Eats, Shoots & Leaves
The Mists of Avalon
Oryx and Crake
Collapse : how societies choose to fail or succeed
Cloud Atlas
The Confusion
Lolita**
Persuasion
Northanger Abbey
The Catcher in the Rye
On the Road
The Hunchback of Notre Dame
Freakonomics : a Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
The Aeneid
Watership Down
Gravity’s Rainbow
The Hobbit
In Cold Blood : A True Account of A Multiple Murder and Its Consequence
White teeth
Treasure Island
David Copperfield
The Three Musketeers

We Are Now Entering the No-Judging Zone

I've been contemplating something for a couple of years now, and it's been on my mind more and more often in the past few months.  It's something that I don't really feel comfortable talking to most people about because I've heard the judgment and even passed judgment myself on this particular decision when other people make it.  I've been doing research online and talking to a few select friends about it, constantly weighing the pros and cons, but I still don't feel any closer to a decision than I did two years ago when I first started thinking about it.  So, enough with the hedging, I'll just come out and say it.

I think I want to get breast implants.

Now, I know everything that you're probably screaming at your computer monitor right now--I've said it all myself and I can vouch for the fact that this is not an easy decision to make.

I know the health risks, I know that it becomes more difficult to detect the lumps that can be early warning signs for cancer, I know about the possible numbing effects the surgery can have, I know that an implant can explode and make you extremely sick, I know that if I do this I'll be another one of those girls that so many people target for mockery and silicone jokes, I know that I'll have to do maintenance every ten years or so to ensure that I don't look like I stuck softballs in my chest.  I know that there are people who will tell me that that I'm beautiful just the way I am and there are those who think I'm doing this for "my man" or because I'm not secure with my own body image.

The truth is, if I ever decide to take the plunge and get implants, it would be completely and entirely for me and for no one else.  Ever since I was 12 years old and started to see the chests blossoming on my friends and the beautiful bras they wore while I still had trouble filling out my training bras, I've waited for my own "blossoming" to occur.  When I was eighteen and still no larger than I had been 5 years earlier I searched and read with great relief all of the articles that said that many women still developed into their early 20s.  I kept holding out hope, but now at 24, rapidly approaching 25 (oh my God!), I think it's safe to say that I've done just about all of the developing that nature intended.

I think that there are many, MANY beautiful small-breasted women.  I mean, Audrey Hepburn, Kate Hudson, Debra Messing just to name a few--gorgeous, style icons, incredibly sexy bodies and amazing confidence.  My problem is that I feel like Audrey Hepburn on top and Jennifer Lopez on the bottom.  For the briefest moment in time I wore the smallest B cup possible, but that was when my weight was much higher than I liked it, and now that I'm back in my preferred weight zone I struggle to fill out an A.  I bet there are a bunch of you out there saying, "Hey, I understand, I'm flat as a board too," but no, seriously, my girls have got nothing on a mosquito bite.  I really just want to make my top proportional to my bottom.  I don't want to have a Playboy Playmate rack, I just don't want to look like a Weeble anymore.

I know that Colby is perfectly fine with me just the way I am, and he's told me many times that there is nothing that I need to change about myself to make him happy.  And I believe him entirely.  And truthfully, if I never do go ahead with an augmentation, I will still be happy with myself.  I love that I've got a rocking booty, I think my arms are pretty fabulous, and I know that my eyes are a great feature.  Over the past few years I feel like I've finally developed my own style and really become comfortable with my appearance, and even consider myself to clean up pretty darn well.  I suppose I just feel like this could be the icing on the cake of me.

So the two things stopping me are the health concerns and the fear of society's judgment, because, let's face it, if I suddenly go from a small A to a C in my mid 20s, there is just no way I can blame that on growing into womanhood.  That is going to be obvious and people are going to talk, it's just a fact.  Beyond that, I know that there's a history of breast cancer in my family--although my mom did have genetic testing done and now we know that my sister and I did not inherit that gene from her--still, more and more women are finding lumps these days, and the disease has already hit close enough to home for me to take it extremely seriously.

I've also considered waiting until after we have children to get any work done, in hopes of staving off any potential breast feeding issues, but I really don't know what I think about that either.   Colby and I both know that we want to wait another four or five years until we start a family (assuming that everything goes to plan of course--I know that I came as something as a surprised to my parents, so I realize that you can't necessarily plan it down to the hour), and do I really want to wait that long to do something that is just for me?  And then after we have kids, will I still be able to justify shelling out the money for myself rather than putting it toward a college fund or a new crib?  And the biggest question, will I even WANT to breastfeed?  I just don't know.

What I do know is that every friend I have who has had the surgery done has been nothing but thrilled with the results.  Have they had them for ten years yet?  No.  So I don't know what their opinion will be down the road.  But I can sense the increased confidence they have, I see them really owning their clothes and their bodies, and I see them finally excited to buy a dress or top that they never could have pulled off before.  I can see the pros so clearly, but the hazy cons of all the "what ifs" always float up in front of me just when I think I have my decision made. 

Anyway, this is all something that wouldn't happen for at least another year--I want to focus on the wedding right now and then get our honeymoon paid for.  But next year will be the last of my car payments, and I'll  have begun working full time again and finally have steady income.  And maybe by then I'll have reached some clarity about where I should go with this.  In the meantime I'll just grin and bear it each time I have to stick a chicken cutlet into my padded bra so I can fill out a top and pray for the day when bust minimizers come back in fashion and I can finally feel superior to all of you lucky gals with naturally fabulous cleavage!

New Business

First of all, don't forget to "bid" on the shoes if there are any that interest you--there's still time!  All you people with feet too big and too small, I'm sorry, might I recommend newspaper stuffed in the toes or a brief encounter with a chainsaw?  No?  Really then--your loss!  And if you're here from Baggage's, welcome!  Hope you enjoy--I love checking out new blogs, so be sure to leave me a comment and I'll come visit!

In other, terribly exciting, news I am attempting to kick things up a notch around here.  I spent about 3 hours putzing around the internet trying to figure out how to make a custom banner, and I think I may have been successful.  I'm not sure if it's totally centered and I have no idea if it will work in any browser other than Firefox, but it's a start.  Maybe eventually I'll learn a little more about how this all works, but I'm kind of pleased with how it has turned out for my first time.  I've wanted to customize my blog a little more for a while now, seeing as this blogging thing is apparently here to stay, and I feel like I've accomplished that now.

And finally, can I tell you how much I want this dress?

Why is it so pretty?  Why is it almost four hundred dollars?  Why can't I be a millionaire and think that four hundred dollars is chump change?  Sigh.  I curse BCBG MaxAzria and its infiltration of my email inbox.

However, rather than spending money, tomorrow I will be returning things to the store.  And in one last shameless plug, I really think that you should consider acquiring some spiffy new shoes from the famed closet of Angela--come on you fabulous being, you've earned them!  And some day when I'm on the top of the New York Times bestsellers list, you can bring those shoes to E! and give an interview about how you knew me when.  And maybe they'll even pay you!  And you know, I happen to think that's a pretty darn good return on your investment.

Unfinished Thoughts

Hello!  Well, I'm still working through my relationship-existential crisis, but honestly, I'm doing much better, I just haven't thought of anything uplifting enough to update you all with.  And yet, why should I continue to depress all of you with that miserable drivel up there everytime you check in?  "Please!" you cry. "Please stop moaning and whinging on about your sad, sad life where you have food and money and cute shoes and far too much spare time to mope around and overthink things.  We know that it is sooo hard for you to be so unlucky in life, and yet?  Shut the hell up!  Also, please recognize our pronounced use of sarcasm in this instance."

So, here are a few random bits that I've plucked from my brain for your consumption (I apologize in advance for what you are about to read):

* There is a Salvation Army commercial on the radio--I suppose preparing you for their oncoming blitz on shoppers during the holiday season.  Anyway, there is someone talking about how great the SA is or something like that, and in the background there is a little bell ringing.  This bell has a very lifelike ring--a ring that somehow transcends the fourth wall of the television and enters your home.  When I first heard the commercial, I was in the kitchen washing dishes.  Can I tell you, with all honesty, I spent the duration of the commercial trying to figure out where on earth that strange ringing was coming from before I put all of the clues together in my little pea-brain.

* If only I were single.  I receive a great many tempting offers from gentlemen of all different ages, races, and types on MySpace.  It's hard to delete each of their poorly spelled, grammatically horrifying missives, and yet, I've made my choice and must say goodbye to the chance of possible romance with these Casanovas.  This charming note however, from the aptly named "Mr. Incredible", nearly changed my mind:
"sexy u stay on base if so get atme like 2 meet u my names joey single love to make luv going to the movies.."
It hurts me so to say no, Joey, it hurts me more than it hurts you.

* I have immense respect for Kirstie Alley appearing on national television in a bikini and stripper hose.  I think she is a stunningly gorgeous woman, and I'm glad that she's gotten to a healthy weight, and she is an inspiration to women everywhere who are frustrated by weight loss.  However.  There is no way that woman is 145 pounds.  She says that at her heaviest she was 220 pounds, and she has now lost 75 of them, which is AWESOME.  And yet, I think she had to have been stretching the truth a bit about that beginning number.  Guys, it pains me to say it, but I have BEEN 145 pounds, and my 145 pounds didn't look anything like Kirstie's.  Anyway, it doesn't matter--she's still beautiful and she's made great strides in her weight loss, it's just that I'd think that in all of her openness and honesty about her struggle with her weight she would have been honest about her original weight.

* Does anyone else get really confused when trying to remember which one is Sasha Cohen and which is Sacha Baron Cohen?  Every time I hear anyone discussing the brilliant mind behind Ali G and Borat I can't help but giggle helplessly imagining him in a darling, sparkly leotard with a flattering ruffle just skimming his bum.  Hee!  See, there I go again!

* On the TiVo, there are three speeds to the fast forward option.  Each time you push the button it makes a different "bloop" noise, indicating the speed you are fast forwarding.  Whenever I push it three times, to go to the fastest speed, it sounds like the beginning of "All Around the Mulberry Bush".  Has anyone else ever noticed this strange phenomenon?  No?  Just me, then?  Alright.  But now you've got that song stuck in your head, don't you?  Ha.

* I've been featured on Heather B's world famous Blog Her blog--does it have a name?  I don't know, I am very confused by that.  But what I do know is that it's a fantastically interesting look at the life of a young careerwoman (not me specifically--the universal careerwoman), and I've especially enjoyed her weekly interviews with other women bloggers.  Now it is my turn to have my name up in lights, and you should all go check it out since I have nothing else very interesting to add, and have probably wasted enough of your time anyway.  Here, go, look!!

Hi, My Name Is Angela, and I'm an Ebay Vulture

I've spent the past week cleaning out my clothes, shoes, purses, and movie collection, making a desperate attempt to reduce the number of things in my posession that I haven't used in many, many years.  Case in point?  The formal that I wore to my high school sophomore homecoming dance.  I really don't know why I even have it anymore--it's a very distant and unlikely dream that I could possibly fit into anything dating from before approximately 2003.

Anyway, I promptly burst my bubble by researching minimum bid prices on Ebay and seeing lots and lots of gorgeous prom and wedding gowns listed with ZERO bids.  So, the cashflow that I was imagining these items generated was pretty promptly stomped on and smashed back into my little dream killer box.  However, I did find a gorgeous pair of Christian Louboutins listed at $24.99 with no reserve.  Holy mother of God, that's rarer than a teensy droplet from the Fountain of Youth!

So, I added them to my watch list and decided to take a look at what else the sellers were offering.  I discovered a fabulous red Iceberg dress, thinking ahead to next year when I'll have no money but will need a formal for the Air Force ball.  I happily watched my items over the next few days--the dress stayed down at an incredibly reasonable price, but I watched in dismay as people placed bids left and right on the Louboutins.

People, I had gone to great lengths to ascertain their credibility as REAL Louboutins--comparing pictures, reviewing the sellers feedback, communicating with the sellers.  I had the potential to get these fabulous $700+ shoes for under $100.  But apparently people have zero idea about how Ebay works.  Here's the thing guys.  Just because you bid $200 on day 2 of a 6 day auction DOES NOT MEAN THAT YOU WILL WIN THE AUCTION.  Can I explain to you how it works?  Great.

An item is listed for X amount of money for X amount of time.  The winner of said item is the person who has bid the most by the time the last second has ticked away.  It's not like a real auction where after a few moments of silence following your bid, you are the lucky winner.  So, my MO on ebay is to always put the item on my watch list, and then if I still really want it I swoop in at the last 2 minutes, place my maximum bid, and typically win it after some poor sods have spent the last 5 hours fighting back and forth over who is going to be the highest bidder.  That is just STUPID!!  And quite frankly, if that's the way you've carefully crafted your winning strategy, I don't think you DESERVE to win!

So I'd like to introduce you to my most recent Ebay conquests:

 

And consider this a PSA on Ebay bidding--I swear, having babies and bidding on Ebay... they'll let just anyone do it!

Just Rip My Heart Out Why Don't Ya!!

I did a difficult thing yesterday.  A very difficult, very prolonged, very painful thing.  There's a hole in my heart that I'm not sure will ever fully heal.  There's a feeling of emptiness... loss... longing...

I went through my shoe collection and decided to bid farewell to eight lovely, beautiful, hardly worn pairs of shoes.

SOB.  SNIFFLE.  WHIMPER.

It's something I've known I needed to do for quite some time now, but have been putting off.  My shoe collection has been maturing and growing and there is simply not room for all of my little children to peacefully coexist in one closet.  So, I went through all of my boxes and pulled the shoes that 1) I have never worn after having owned for at least one year and 2) I haven't even considered wearing in the past two years.

I ended up with six pairs that are still new in the box--three of which I've worn once, maybe twice, and the other three I've never worn--and three pairs that were worn fairly frequently in their day, but have fallen into disuse and were covered in a fine layer of dust on their shelf.  One of the new in the box shoes I ended up reinstating on the shelf for one more chance to gain my undying love and affection, but the others were bagged up and I'm bringing them to a friend for possible resale.  The shoes still new in the box will go for $10 and the slightly broken in will be $5.  Any that she doesn't want will go to Ebay and those that don't sell will be dropped off at The Airman's Attic.

I do hope that they can find good homes.  They're really quite lovely shoes, they were just overshadowed by other more exciting and, to me, slightly more lovely shoes.  But still, I know that I'll miss them.  And I know that the moment they've been shipped off I will put together an outfit that would look absolutely PERFECT with the red peep toe heels, or my black and white polka dot high heel sandals, or even, dare I say it, the somewhat matronly brown alligator pumps.  But that's just the way life is.  You never realize what you have until it's gone, do you?

(Also!  We've set the date and location for the wedding!!  SQUEEEEE!!  So, if you are stalking me and would like an easy way to target me for a dreadful murder, I will most definitely be found at this location at 7:00 pm on Saturday, November 24, 2007.  Save the date!)

*Edited to add:  An addendum from the second party involved in the possible double murder plot to take place on 24 November.

"I believe that's my cue... we aren't 'officially' engaged yet. Due to the fact that one of us has her..ahem 'their' (editors note:  Hey, you agreed to that date too, this is a team decision!) heart set on a certain date, to make that work the planning needs to start this xmas. Now you're asking, "if the planning needs to start now, why the hell can't that guy get his shit together and seal the deal?" Since about the time that the serious wedding talk has been going on, said guy has been working through the details of buying a house, and getting ready to go on a 4 month vacation that ends in "...stan". Since that serious wedding talk, he has seen Angela for 4 days during which he still wasn't sure of the type/details of the ring she wanted. While the method may not be the norm, the end result will be top notch.

"PS, in my defense, I told her we are going to have a big two car garage, she didn't really need to get rid of said shoes."

Isn't he cute when he's defensive??

Why You Should Think Before You Speak

I really try to be a compassionate, caring friend.  I think it's incredibly important that my friends know that I'm always here for them when they need a shoulder to cry on or just need someone to listen, whether they're going through good times or bad.  I'm just super awesome like that.  Of course, I also realize that I need to make up for the times when I call them sobbing incoherently over some drama or another that has taken place at 2 o'clock in the morning--the time when all of the best dramas occur.

With that being said, it is always extremely important to self-edit and to think through what you're about to say from all angles, lest something you say be taken completely out of context.  Which you know it always is, and doesn't really help with the mature, caring image you are trying to project--and actually live up to.  Like say, for example, you tell a friend who is going through something of a rough patch at the moment:

"You know, it's totally okay if you want to dump on me.  I do it all the time and it really helps me feel better--I really don't mind!"

Anyway, at that point, said friend apparently \had his only laugh of the day, at my expense. 

But hey, like I said, I'm always there for my friends.

You're On Notice!!

 

Now go make your own and vent your frustration!!

File Under: Lesson Learned

So, I finally got around to dropping my computer off to be fixed.  I've been putting this off for quite some time now, because I knew that it was going to be pretty pricey and I'm also more than a little terrified that they're going to try to recover my deceased hard drive (harddrive?...  hardrive?...how the hell do you spell that?) but not be able to get anything off of it.

Also, I procrastinate about everything so why stop now?  I can just stop later...

Question # 7 on the Geek Squad computer service questionairre:  Should we add capes to our Geek Squad uniform?

Anyway.  I'll admit that I fell more than a little bit in love with the Geek Squad member who came to my rescue.  I was worried that the whole "Geek Squad" persona was just for advertisement and when I got to the store I would be terribly let down.  But no!  My Geek was beyond satisfactorily geeky, and seemed to work magic on my computer that I simply can't explain.  I won't know if they've been able to recover any data until tomorrow, but he made the computer load from the recovery disk which neither me or my dad could manage to do.  And if you know my dad, you know that he can do ANYTHING, so this was quite a feat of great proportions in my eyes.

Geek Squad Guy:  30ish word documents??  ::laughs::

Me:  Well!  I don't know!  I don't go home and count my word documents every day.

GSG:  Well you should have!

Me:  Yes, well, I should also have backed up my drive, but let's try not to live in the past, shall we?

I was right to be afraid of the price though.  Don't you love how every time you say, "Really, I'm going to start saving money now!" something comes up and just throws a dart right through that pretty bubble?  Well, that dart came in the form of a $228 charge to my credit card which will be followed up by the stinger of an external backup drive for my computer, so that hopefully this won't have to happen again in the future.  Apparently, if you don't backup your files, they go away when your hard drive crashes!  Huh!  Who knew??

GSG: That'll be $228 dollars, Angela.

Me:  Man... I could have bought some really cute shoes with that much money...

Please Don't Expect Any Sort of Narrative Thread Today

I was just reading another post where the blogger was boasting of her quite cute aqua blue jelly shoes, including a link from her entry to a photo of said shoes.  I clicked through to the link and agreed that they were exceedingly special shoes, and also was immediately transported back to my six year old self prancing around in silver glittery jelly shoes in our backyard in Virginia.  Those were fantastic shoes and I think I'd like to own a pair of jelly shoes now.  Though perhaps not boots... Those would probably leave funny tan lines.

Last night I was going through my Tivo listing and realized that I had a BRAND NEW EPISODE of The Girls Next Door recorded!  Oh joy!  Oh rapture!  I hadn't realized how much I missed my little blonde space cadets until I had them back on my television set.  I've decided that my favorite is Holly--I think if I were going to fill out a quiz in a fangirl magazine about which Girl You're Most Like I would probably try to answer all of the questions the way that Holly would so that I would end up with her as The Girl I Am Most Like.  This is also how, when I was in the ninth grade, I ended up with Kevin as The Backstreet Boy With Whom I Would Be Most Compatible.  (I also just reworded that sentence so that I wouldn't end it with a preposition--That was just for you Wordnerd!)

Last night as I was going through my Tivo listing I also realized that I watch far too much reality tv for my appreciation of it to be entirely ironic.

I met my new boss on Sunday night when we were frantically working until midnight, accepting separation packages and faxing them to the Air Force Personnel Center.  She seems exceedingly lovely, funny, and not at all the frightening, overbearing Type A personality that the personnel careerfield seems to attract.  Of course, this is just first impressions alone, and I've yet to actually work with her, but it seems as though my (hopefully) last few months in the Air Force won't be entirely miserable.

I've recently discovered the hilarious comedy of Jennifer Saunders and Dawn French.  You may know Jennifer Saunders from the British comedy series "Absolutely Fabulous" and Dawn French from "The Vicar of Dibley"--both very funny shows as well.  Originally the two were partners with a sketch comedy show on the BBC parodying movies, tv shows, celebrities, music--pretty much anything pop culture is up for grabs.  So I've been going through everything that Netflix has to offer on these two and they absolutely slay me.  I will warn you that it's definitely very British comedy and you'll probably either love it or just completely not get it at all, but I think it's certainly worth a try if you're looking for a good laugh.

(In a parody of "Gone With the Wind"' Jennifer is affecting a Southern accent)
Jennifer: Oh, whatever will I wear to the party tonight, Mammy?
Dawn: (In her normal English accent) I thought you were going to wear this frock.
Jennifer: (Grabs the dress) Oh fiddle-dee-dee!
Dawn: Should I have that dry-cleaned then?
Jennifer: (reverts to her English accent) What??
Dawn: The dress... Do you want me to go and drop it at the dry cleaners?
Jennifer: Maybe you should just go and beat it on a rock!
Dawn: What?  Why??
Jennifer: Because you're my SLAVE!!