i don't want to join your facebook group

One of my managers started a facebook group for a work community I’m in and sent an email telling people to join. I do not want to join. But of course, by not joining - they [work people] will notice. I know it’s not a mandatory thing. I could probably speak to my manager about it and explain why I don’t want to join this group on facebook. She’s an awesome person and totally understanding. And yet, I have a feeling it would only end up with me looking like a complete jerk or a weirdo with something to hide. Which is not really it.

Except, it kinda is. I’m hiding my personal life, kinda. Something people have been doing for ages. I’m guessing that 20 years ago, before the internet, work colleagues never knew their coworker’s favorite movies, number one song, and which bars they were at last weekend. I’d sort of like to maintain the old way for now.

I’ve already removed links to my blogs and hid most of my photos on facebook because of the growing number of work contacts I have on my ‘friends’ list. This limited profile shite that facebook has doesn't really work, in the social sense. I mean, yes- technically, I can hide the stuff. However, people who have your limited profile KNOW that they have the limited version, methinks. And it probably offends them.

One day I’d like to think that my work life and my personal life will be friends. That everything I say here can be heard there. But right now, I’d like to keep them separate. Work people do not need to see my angsty blog posts about dumb boys or the 10 million pictures of graffiti that I’ve accumulated on my flickr. They don't need to know if I got drunk last weekend or had a fight with my parents or stubbed my toe on a closet door.

Really.

Of course, I guess it doesn't make much sense to ask for a facebook exclusion, as I throw all these details of my life on the internet anyways. It’s not like they're hidden in my secret diary or in a box under my bed. But still, I don't know. For my friends, yes - of course they should be able to see my pictures and read my rants. That's part of the reason I document everything- to share it with them; I keep everyone in the loop while documenting our hijinks. I just wish it wasn't so easy for my professional contacts to also be able to see all my internet secrets so easily.

There Will Be Change

Today while planning some dinner dates with girlfriends and checking for flights to London in between a boat load of meetings and review sessions, I realized what a spoiled, self-centered brat I am and how unhappy I am in spite of it all.

I mean, I already knew that I have a good setup in life. Just this weekend I was telling my mother how on the whole, I generally dislike most people as they are apathetic and self-centered. I also acknowledged that I am one of these people I dislike. My mom’s response – not everyone’s like that, and if I’m not happy with who I am – then change.

This of course, made me think of one of my all time most inspirational quotes from Gandhi, “Be the change you wish to see in the world.”

I feel like a few years ago I was on that path, being the change. But in recent years I’ve definitely slipped, slacked off my course. Now a significant amount of my non-work time is spent alone being antisocial, with friends being negative or with family, eating. And my work days are spent in a cubicle of a huge corporation doing work that I am nothing near passionate about.

This is not the path for me.

I’ve been out of college for three years. I’ve just hit the quarter century mark. I’m feeling overly angsty and frustrated with where I am right now, life wise. I expected more out of myself. Growing up I predicted that by the age of 25 I’d be firmly on the path to adulthood. Working at a job I loved or at least ready to go back to school and dive into a career I could be passionate about. Settling into a city I love and surrounded by good friends, family and a significant other. Spending my spare time making a difference and helping others through volunteer work.

Instead, I’m living in three cities, seeing friends or family only once or twice a week and generally not in passionate love with anyone or anything.

It’s unsettling and upsetting. I need to make a change. Lots of changes, actually.

I’m not ready to start a new career search just yet. And logistically, my multi-city life will have to continue for a bit longer. Cupid has yet to shoot his arrow my way and no dates are on the near horizon.

But volunteering, something that used to be one of my favorite activities but has dropped of my life radar in recent years, is something I can definitely control and jump into at this point in my life. I’ve just signed up for a few information sessions and filled out applications for a few non-profits. I need to try some things out, test the waters again. This is my start at fixing things. At finding the right path and getting on track to living the life I want.

I hear you, Gandhi, and as of today I can once again say, “I’m working on it.”

It feels good.

finding art on your street

williamsburg
Originally uploaded by florajasmine

one of my favorite parts about my graffiti photography hobby is when i help other people take a second look at the world around them.

i know my friends are definitely more aware now than they were before about the streets they walk down. they're used to me pointing out little pieces high and low as we walk along in our cities, sometimes they even spot things first and point them out to me.

this weekend, when i was walking around brooklyn, snapping shots of some street art in decay - i occasionally caused a traffic jam while people stopped to look at me and figure out what exactly i was shooting. it was good though, making people stop in the midst of their afternoon errands. as i would walk away from a particularly interesting piece, i saw a few people take time and look at the art as well, pointing out special details or commenting on the subject to their friends.

it makes me happy, seeing other people appreciate street art in their/our/it's element.

why are people jerks to strangers

i hate that every time i start to feel good about humanity, something happens to remind me that people can be real jerks.

yesterday my mom had not one but TWO rude/prejudiced comments thrown at her while in and around my apartment building. my mom who is one of the nicest people i've ever known (and not just cos she gave birth to me) does not deserve anything rude to happen to her.

• she noticed some people coming towards the elevator right as the door was closing so she held the door for them. the older man (with wife and grandchild in tow) told her to go ahead without them. then as the door was closing, my mom heard the man say, "besides, why would she think we'd want to ride the elevator with her." wtf did that guy mean?!?! why wouldn't you want to ride the elevator with a smiling lady? jerk.
• she was waiting to cross the street to the art store across from my building. next to her at the corner was a group of three people speaking in spanish. (which, duh, my mom understands.) in spanish they talked about what they thought my mom was (what ethnicity), critiquing what she was wearing (tshirt and capris ) and whether or not she understood them talking about her. talking about her loudly AS THEY STOOD RIGHT NEXT TO HER. my mom said she ignored them but i told her she should have said, 'si, yo entiendo, groseros.' (or something more scathing as she actually speaks spanish well and i do not.)
  

my mom didn't even mention either of these things to me until late into last night when i brought up the fact that maybe boston isn't so bad as i originally thought it was. maybe it was a nice city with nice people in it. but APPARENTLY NOT. although, i'm guessing in both cases based on location of where i live, these people were not from boston. just jerks from somewhere else on our great globe.

i like me

off of the quote i saw yesterday, "“I am a straight woman, and I am confident about my appearance and happy with my body,” i had a quick chat about it with one of my female cousins. we both can say this affirmation without question, but also we understand that it is not the norm for other girls and women to be so confident in their selves.

we were raised similarly - first born children with amazingly supportive parents with tex-mex family values and moms who came of age in the 60's and 70's. to our parents, as little girls, we were basically the greatest thing since sliced bread. or big red. we've been doted upon all of our lives and only told that we are beautiful, intelligent, fantastic, awesome, etc, etc by all of our family.

of course, my cousin and i have had a few periods where we thought we were too skinny or too fat or something. cos all teenagers do. and when every other chick in your freshman class is freaking out about her body, you start to think something might be wrong with yours as well.

now as an adult, i exercise so that i don't die of a heart attack at age 35. i try to eat healthy cos i'm afraid of high cholesterol and diabetes. i wear high heels and cute dresses cos sometimes i want to be tall and i like feeling extra girly.

on the whole, we're probably two of the most well adjusted, self-loving, 20somethings i know. and i really think it goes back to how we were raised - by borderline overbearing families with never-ending affirmations.

i know all kids aren't raised this way. and it sucks. a number of my girlfriends have whined about bathing suits and body hugging tops and eating ice cream twice in one day, all largely things i barely give a second thought to. there is a problem with our society that causes women to think they're not as great as they could be. it's in advertising and media and elementary school textbooks. lucky for me, i had family that went against this and had a strong enough message repeated to me so often that i was able to tune-out the body-conscious lines i was being fed from all directions and instead was raised to think, hey, i'm pretty a-ok.

i think all little girls, awkward teenage girls, and half-grown 20something women should definitely be made aware of their awesomeness to fight off the still prevalent message that females need to fit into some sort of crazy idealized box. boys are generally raised by society to think they are fine as they are, girls still need to be reminded by people that care about them. it's stupid that the world works this way, in the year 2008, but in fact - it does.

leaving gram's nest?

so today my mom called to say my grandma was upset about my new house in san antonio. she's nervous because it's kind of across town.

since the age of 5 i've lived about 4 miles away from my grandma [minus being away in new england]. she picked my brother and i up from elementary, middle and high schools for the majority of our time there. even since i've moved up north and my brother's started college, we're always in the neighborhood on weekends that we're home. the church we go to is directly across the street from her neighborhood so its a guarantee we'll be nearby on sundays. if we were ever locked out or in need of a ride, grams has always been 5 minutes away.

now me, my mom and bro are packing up and moving west. we're staying in san antonio but definitely switching zipcodes a bit.

i think grams thought our move was partly to get out of the family net [never mind the fact that the majority of time i'm thousands of miles outside the family net]. that was totally not it at all. we just found a nice house that met all the requirements for a great deal.

it's cute and sad that grams was upset about the move. i know she loves us a ton, and this just emphasizes that. but also sad that she thought we were leaving her with our minor move across town. she's worried she'll see us less. oh gram.

[yes. my family is far closer than most other families i know. considering i talk to my brother, parents, cousins, and grandparents on a daily to weekly basis and see everyone at least once a month - we are special.]

stay tuned

i really do mean to write here more frequently, i just keep getting distracted.
there's so much going on in my life right now, and i want to document it all but sometimes i'm just too busy or too tired or too lazy to put it all into words.

i'm buying a house, with my mom, in san antonio.
i'm renting an apartment, with maria, in new york.
i'm working a LOT, at the same place i've been for the past 2.5 years. i never thought i'd stick around this long.
i have so many places i want to travel to, friends i want to visit. but. BUT. now i have two new homes to settle into. i don't want to neglect anything. i feel like every minute is packed and i'm already being torn.
i'm about to hit my quarter-of-a-century mark. i feel like the angst will start to hit me pretty soon. there's already a trickle of impending freak-out.

i guess this is growing up.

business casual has a lot of interpretations

when i decide to wear inappropriate clothing to work and lean heavily on the 'casual' part of business casual i usually am dressed with aims at comfort, as i am today in wide leg khakis and boat shoes. it's as close as i felt like pushing it without actually showing up in sneakers and sweat pants- and getting told to go home.

when certain other people  wear inappropriate work clothes and instead of aims of comfort, they seem to be aiming for a 'clubbing' look. i passed a girl in the hall wearing a silk tank top, tight jeans, and white peep toe heels. yesterday i saw a woman wearing neon pink stilletos that matched her neon pink belt.

like, highlighter pink.

the pink stilletos were cool. but i really like running up and down office stairs in my boat shoes.

so that was my weekend. things i did:

• had a stack of wheat pancakes and met a waitress who gained 68 lbs when she was preggers. (she looks to weigh about 100 now) decided pregnancy might not be for me.
• tried to play with a cat like i would with a dog. he wasn't having it.
• read about a million craigslist apt ads. was sold on apts ranging in rent from 1200 to 5200. dangerous. also found one that looked like a cabana/jungle gym.
• spilled scrambled eggs and water all over maria's futon
  
• went to ad hoc gallery and saw a great show. also saw tags of people i love and people i hate on the street outside.
• convinced maria that it would be ok to live in bushwick. was told we would not be living on knickerbocker no matter how cute the name.
• tried to visit murakami exhibit at BMA but the line was 10 miles long and we didn't have much time. so all i have is a pic of me standing in entrance hall. i.e. i'm lame. whatevs, i'll be back.
• went to concert in park slope. listened to a bunch of old people and thought i was in some sort of pretentious film. also heard maria toot on her clarinet and it was nice. yay mozart.
• went to zanzibar while dressed like a 9 year old in chucks, celtics shirt and a hoodie. all the other girls were dressed cute. good thing i'm ok w/ myself.
  
• used the word 'fance' about a million times. instead of fancy. i think its my new thing.
• ate a giant slice of apple pie around 2am. deliciously dumb idea. got sick about 10 min later.
• ate lunch in central park by myself. worked on my tan. decided i love nyc and want to live there, but def not in manhattan.
• wandered around some shops buying things i don't need. cos i just love to throw money away.
• ate at maison which is like the fake parisian place we ate at in vegas. so its a double fake. was good though.
• saw g.r.l. flick at the moma. cracked up multiple times. also was moved by art. cos i'm weird. made plans to make some stuff for maria's b-day. saw panel. more love for the grl crew. went to after party and dug javelin but didn't dig the smelly hipsters all around.
• fell into bed at 11p, woke up at 530a, took long long train ride into manhattan, ate two krispy kreme donuts, got on acela and am now headed back to boston.

Never a Skinny Minnie

My parents raised me with a pretty good self body image. I was a skinny kid. Then I puberty hit and I moved into dorms with an unlimited meal plan at the age of 16. Obviously, I gained some weight. Freshman 15 hit about 2 years early. I don’t think I’ve ever been fat. Or even ‘chubby’. Maybe for a few months sometime at BC when I hated everything and wanted to be in Texas. But other than that, I’m about the same. Normal.

I know that my body type and appetite will prevent me from ever being one of those skinny-minnie girls. I’d love to have thin thighs and a flat stomach. Who wouldn’t? But yeah. I also like to have ice cream when I feel like it and a few beers on the weekends. Flat stomach they do not make. And I’m okay with this. If I stuck to a diet or actually went outside and ran a few miles on a regular basis, I could probably get closer to the universal ideal. But eh, it’s really not that important to me. I only exercise now on a less-than-regular basis because I’m kind of scared of getting heart disease or diabetes in the future, particularly considering the shite I put into my body on a regular basis, i.e. the ramen I had for dinner.

So yeah. I’m me. I’m short, not fat, and not skinny. 99% of the time I like my body because I own it and I control it.

Only there are some occassions when I kind of wish for something else. Like last night, when I was out at a bar with a few girls from work, who all happen to be a few inches taller than me, have longer and straighter hair than me, and probably weigh a few pounds less.

Yes, confession- I’d like to have longer legs, straighter hair and be skinnier. But sometimes I don’t feel like wearing heels, ironing my hair out, or skipping dessert or fries. And my Tex-Mex genes don’t really lend themselves to statuesque slimness a la Kate Moss. At all. Eva Longoria is probably the skinniest Tex-Mex and I’m pretty sure she never eats and works out 4 hours a day. I, on the other hand, have an appetite and have a regular job to attend to, so her plan’s out for me. I’ll never be like those girls I was jealous of last night.

I do know that I can work out a little bit more often and see pretty good results. I can get muscle definition and feel stronger, I can run farther and feel healthier – when I take control. I’ve had bouts of extreme-healthiness in my life so I know that results are possible. When I get these twinges of jealousy of girls with other body types, it’s sort of like the kick in the butt that I need. I can’t make myself taller or wicked thin, but I can be more fit.

So thanks girls, I’ll be working on that a little harder now… for a while. I’ll aim to frequent the gym more often and will be eating a bit healthier and maybe even wearing heels more often. Because I want to. All the same, stronger or not, I will always be cool with how I look and my hamburger intake. It’s all good.

y'all come back now

I'm South Texas born and raised. I lived there full time until i was 18 and part-time since leaving for college 6.5 years ago. I don't have any real southern accent that people notice. The only Texan thing people catch is that i say y'all. A LOT. Of course, I also now say wicked. A lot.

But yeah, no one in my family really has a big southern drawl. None of my friends either. We just all sound... the same. Like we're from San Antonio or Austin or Houston. Somewhere normal.

In contrast, I work with someone who is North Texas born and raised down there and moved up to Boston last year after college. She has a SUPER country accent.

It seems so weird every time I hear her talk. I expect her to be from like Georgia or Mississippi or some southern place. Not Texas, not my homeland. Because I don't consider Texas 'the South' culturally. Maybe North Texas is part of 'the South' and South Texas is not. In North Texas they talk country and make bad mexican food. blah. North Texas, no me gusta. South Central Texas, me gusta mucho.

Anyways. Just something I was thinking about this afternoon. Random, I know.

just a girl. with some scabs.

my mother has always advised me to pick out my outfits the night before. saves time, saves thinking, etc, etc. sometimes i do this, sometimes i do not. today i checked the weather and obvs know that spring has hit new england. so i think a knee length skirt and some flats will be perfect.

only there's a little problem that has recently come to my attention/been bothering me a bit.

background: i'm a little bit clumsy. and a little bit, shall we say, active for someone my age. flat out, i'm 24 years old and i still climb trees when i feel like it. and i hike, and i do cartwheels, and sometimes i wander around at night without turning on a light. eventually i trip and bump into things. all of these factors result in me having at least one or two bruises and/or cuts somewhere on my body (usually legs) most of the time.

i'm mostly ok with this. i've outgrown the gross habit of picking at my scabs and i heal pretty quickly. and sometimes i get cool scars out of the deal. (i love the thing on my right foot.) but still. they kind of look out of place on my semi-adult legs. and its awkward if someone asks how i got that mark and i say, "climbing into a dusty cave in a park by my house."

which brings me to my current predicament- i want to wear a skirt tomorrow. without the protection of tights or anything to hide the 'real me.' i currently have 2 scratches (1 kinda big) and a bruise 0n my gams. hmm. not so professional. not so adult.

blah. oh well. 'tis me. but maybe i'll try to be a little more careful during the warm months when more skin is shown in the office. maybe.

fiesta shoebox float parade

what i can only assume are confused/worried/loving parents have been furiously googling the words, "fiesta, shoebox, float, parade" and keep ending up at this post from last spring. which, honestly, does not give much detail regarding how to build a miniature fiesta float out of a shoebox. i feel bad about that. you, the googling parents, are probably very confused. so i'm writing this post, one week before the big fiesta kickoff to hopefully help out a few of yall out there furiously googling.

the shoebox fiesta parade a longstanding san antonio tradition. i was in elementary school almost 20 years ago doing the same thing. i guess that for non-native parents now living in san antonio, this is probably a weird phenomenon that the teachers are requesting parent participation in.

basically, all schools have a mini parade. and in this parade instead of the giant trucks bearing flowers or animatronic robots on top of flat bead trucks like in the macy's or rose bowl parades, what san antonian children produce is tissue paper and action figure decorated shoe boxes which they drag on strings through the hallways of the school.

sometimes schools have themes (like make it based on a book u read or a historical period) but usually the parade is straight up 'fiesta' themed and anything colorful or fun goes. supplies for this include a shoebox, construction or tissue paper, and whatever toys your kid feels like gluing to the top of this shoebox (transformers, barbie, spiderman, dinosaurs, etc). they can set up the shoebox to look like a car toting the grand marshall or fiesta princess or you can help your kid fashion a construction paper skyscraper and have spiderman swing off it. whatever.

dinosaur wetlands, mini alamos, rocket ships and knights on horseback - all been done before and totally cool if your kid is into it. basically, make a mini float. (ha! so descriptive!) but you know, make little tissue paper skirt around it, snip some green construction paper for fake grass, fold the bright colored paper to make a few flowers. whatever. its all good.

i wish i had pictures to offer for suggestions, but i don't. oh well. kids are creative. they'll think of something. just make sure they don't cut their f ingers with scissors or burn something with a glue gun.

happy early fiesta, everyone!

i do dress nice on the weekends. usually...

i use fashion (clothing, shoes, bags) as a way calm down when i'm stressed. its weird and superficial but it works for me. whenever i'm freaking out about something serious like work or family or the future of the universe- i take a step back and start to take inventory of my wardrobe, plan outfits, dream up the things i'd love to buy, and re-dress others in my head - and after a few minutes i can usually breath easy again.

anyways.

unfortch, my office is in the 'burbs and i see the same middle-age boring office people everyday and i rarely get excited about dressing for work. most days i throw my hair in a bun, push up my glasses, and wear whatever mildly presentable pants and sweater i can grab each morning.

sometimes, when i wake up more than 30 minutes before i have to be out the door- i spend a little bit of time putting together a cute outfit and maybe even brushing my hair. whenever i actually bother trying to look more than presentable i get compliments. which i appreciate.

but at the same time, ugh. that probs means i look like a complete disaster 90% of the time i'm in the office. whoops.

anyways. today i kinda tried (cos i'm flying home this afternoon and it really throws my parents off when i look nice). and i totally got compliments on my springy flower printed peep-toe heels i found for $20 and the $6 pair of wide leg khakis i found in a clearance rack last time i was home. (we don't need to talk about how much my sweater cost. too much. sometimes i splurge.) yeah, i'm a super bargain shopper. if only i wasn't so lazy as to be a super dresser on such rare occassions. blah.

Why I Suck, Where I'm Ignorant

So I'm pretty sure I've never been in love. I'm getting too old for this. I know people that have been in love 2 or 3 times by my age. (Some of them might be confused and or lying) But even so, I do believe that most people I know have been in love at least once.

Me? Never. I've crushed and lusted after a long list of boys and men. But never anything all consuming and long lasting. Sometimes I think I might be an asexual robot, but no. I do have extreme love for my family and friends, I've just yet to meet the person who will tap into my romantic love pot. I'm assuming one day this will happen.

But in the meantime, I still am a blank slate with only the purest, analytical understandings of true love. And when people come to me with their stories and problems dealing with their OTL (one true love) I have problems understanding and sympathizing. I give lots of great relationship advice that makes perfect sense to me. They're a jerkface? Drop them. They're far away? Move there, deal with it, or drop them. They love someone else that's not you? Screw that, drop them and find someone to love you and then love them. In like with someone that loves you? Drop them, you won't grow to love them.

Eh. My advice is probably skewed and lacking in complete romantic OTL sensibility. I'm far too logical, black and white, yes or no with regards to OTLs and how to deal with the inevitable, numerous situations and problems that arise. These answers all make perfect sense to me and yet I'm learning that people in actual deep true love really can't function this way. It's not all black and white and yes or no.

Well, damn.

Sorry folks.

I know how or can figure out how to get around any major city within 2 hours.

I can find almost any random fact on the internet regarding just about anything.

I am not scared of anything in real life except actual murderers and rollercoasters.

I can offer advice on what camera to buy, what websites to use, what book to read, which fund to invest in, what music to listen to, and what shoes would go great with that outfit.

But helping you out with dealing with all the drama around your OTL, your pain and heartache and infinite longing. Um. I'm probably not the best resource. I have no experience here. It's not something you can read a book about or google on the internet. I think its completely and deeply personal. And I've never felt it, so I don't know how to help. I'm blank here. I can offer ancedotes and dumb jokes, but I think that's it for right now.

I'm sorry.

Maybe this is the area where I really need someone to help me. It's something I definitely cannot figure out on my own. I've tried.

musings of a singleton

I want a guy to go with me to an indie rock concert not only because he likes me, but also because he loves the band. I need a boy who likes hiking and laying in the grass. The perfect guy will be the one to ask me to go to basketball games and art shows and hip-hop clubs because they’re his thing and he knows I’ll enjoy it. I want a boy who reccomends good books to read and appreciates the lit I can throw in his direction.

I think its mildly easy to find a boyfriend who will accompany you to events and tolerate the things you like, even feigning interest by asking questions from time to time. But I don’t want someone to tolerate my interests, I need someone who shares them. We don’t need to be twins and love all the same things. But in my dream relationship we’d have a lot of overlap.

There's a lot more thought behind this post, but I'll just give you this for now… and I'll add links later.

I'm one of the pickiest people alive when it comes to finding a mate. And yet, the ones I pick for myself seem to be the worst. Whatever. I like writing out all the criteria I'm looking for in a man, as if it's a checklist I can use on my next night out. Oh, if only it was all so easy as filling out a form and having the perfect man be returned to you on a plate. Alas, the world does not yet have that technology. Actually, match.com probably has the process locked down, its just the narrowness of my search that is preventing this from actually working. That and my individual weirdness which would prevent me from matching someone, per se. Probs, since I haven't tried match, I'm guessing here...

So, with regards to my various 'man requirement' lists, height, personality, and of course- always important to me – interests are included. Looks are never high on my list because I have weird taste and it varies so much (black/white/brown – skinny/normal/fit – rocker/baller/nerd, etc). Basically the only standard aspect of looks is moderately tall (5'10" +), not overly muscular, more thin than fat, and not ugly. And my definition of ugly is probably different than other people's.

So anyways, on to today's list. These are all things that I myself love and think are interesting/attractive/awesome enough that any decent man should also love. -->

My ideal guy must like at least 15 of the following 20 things:

1. Amelie or Trainspotting (overplayed flicks I love)
2. Basketball (watch or play)
3. Good Beer (i.e. not budlight)
4. Converse or Vans (canvas sneaks)
5. Dude Ranch or Dookie or Morning Glory (influential albums from my youth)
6. English Humor (it's particular)
7. Gandhi (from India or clone high)
8. Graffiti (aka Streetart)
9. Interpol (wardrobe and their beats)
10. Jean-Paul Sartre (philosophy killa)
11. Kanye West (persona and his raps)
12. Lion King (circle of life)
13. Mother Teresa (if you don't, you're evil)
14. Meat (like, from cows)
15. Michael Jackson (he is the king of pop)
16. Nick Hornby or Dave Eggers (their books)
17. Ray Charles (the man, the myth, the legend)
18. Signs or Boondock Saints (religious flicks)
19. Stand by me or The Sandlot (band of bros movies)
20. Tamales or Big Red (tex-mex goodness)

"the game"

the other night, before i passed out at like 930, i was clicking through the telly and happened upon this whack show that i've seen before called the game. its basically about american football W.A.G.s (wives and girlfriends) .in the 5 min i saw this episode, the blonde chick from sweetvalleyhigh told her hubby (hot guy from some cop show) that she married him for his money and then stayed with him for years cos she felt bad about it.

it was one of the meanest things ever, on this dumb sitcom show. the hot hubby stormed out of the room and i promptly got disinterested and fell asleep.

unfortch, i totally know couples who are like this. 'the game' isnt really the football bit, its all the stupid relationship bits. it happens to obscenely (and even moderately) rich/famous boys and girls all the time. people attach themselves out of self-interest rather than something legitimate like love and attraction. of course the rich kids aren't always completely oblivious in this game. often they pick their counterparts based on some other superficial thing like looks or connections.

so its a wagering balance, this game. i bring this to the table and you bring that. hmmm.

i don't like that game. i don't ever want to play that way. i want to play the true love game. ah, yes- ever the romantic.

p.s. kelsey grammer is the exec producer on this show. random. but props dude. for making me think real deep for about 15 min.

whoops

I went over to my aunt's house last night with my mom. One of my younger cousin was passed out on the couch and grunted a hello before rolling over into a pillow.

After playing 'fashion show' for a bit with my aunt, I realized the evening was going to take a decidedly middle-age mommy turn. Which is, obviously, not really my scene. So while my mom sat in the kitchen with two of my aunts chatting about what i can only assume to be mommy type stuff, I wandered off to the den and plopped down next to my cousin. Slipping in and out of that comfortable nap/tv-mode that usually only occurs when you're an angsty teenager (or me), we watched South Park or something. We probably only spoke about 10 sentences the whole night. After getting a few calls, eventually he rolled off the couch, got dressed and went out to dinner with his friends.

A [long] while later the mommys were done chatting and someone poked me (I was still sprawled on the couch, by this point curled up in a wool blanket) and told me to wake up. While walking out the front door i noticed a giant birthday balloon by the front door. Giant. Like 2 feet across.

Oh yeah. My baby cousin had just turned 18 last Saturday. Which i remembered last Thursday (partially due to fb reminders)- and then forgot about... until i saw the balloon.

I'm such a bad cousin.

(but. he is recovering from pink eye. so i'm thinking if he gave me pinkeye last night, i have nothing to be sorry about. and actually i can be very mad at him.)

----

I always think its interesting and sad that I slip so easily into angsty teenager habits when I'm home for more than 2 days. I sleep a lot, I crave weird food at random times. I graze the fridge. Basically, being at home makes me too comfortable and all my icky habits rise to the surface, I think.

i feel bad

cos i haven't written here in ages. my blogspot is looking so abandoned and dusty. it's just that my new digs are so convenient/easy/quick. and i'm so busy/short-attention-spanned/lame.

excuses, excuses.

i do actually have tons of things i want to take some quality time to write about. to wax on about for paragraphs and paragraphs like the self-indulgent fool that i am.

only. i am, 'le tired.'

deadline for myself: 2 new posts a week. substantial content. starting NOW.

in preparation

tomorrow is mardis gras. lent starts on wednesday. ash wednesday. i'll need to make it to a church sometime.

this year i think i'm going to abstain from beer and soda. i'm also trying to think of some sort of reflective obligation to give myself for the duration of lent... but i haven't decided on on yet. so for now, the plan is to skip out on the carbonated fat-makers in my life for at least 40 days.

i don't really drink soda much anymore. so that won't be so hard. however beer is all around me when i'm out having fun, so this one will be a bit tougher. which is good. that's the point isn't it? to actually sacrifice something. good.