This Sunday my husband and I are hopping in the car and heading down to Charlottesville, Virginia, to visit Monticello, the home of Thomas Jefferson. It’s one of my favorite places, if not, so far, my favorite place I’ve ever been. I’m really looking forward to showing my husband Monticello. I’m not expecting him to feel the same as I feel about it, but, as a history major, I’m sure he’ll enjoy being a tourist.
Best part: the gardens. At this time of year the flower garden looks like an organized attack of wildflowers. I’m hoping especially to see love-lies-bleeding, bloodflower, and flowering tobacco, whose flower smells sweet and a little like jasmine, but comes out only in the evening or if it’s a cool part of the day. I was lucky one mid-September afternoon—and probably won’t be this trip since it’s going to be hot and we’ll be there in the morning.
If it were allowed, the winding walk flower garden is where I would have gotten married. However, the place is open every day except Christmas, and the Jefferson Foundation doesn’t place weddings on their top ten list of preservation strategies (I asked during one tour; they said no). Perhaps if I could prove myself a direct descendant of Jefferson the idea may have been considered? I thought about a secret elopement in the corner of the garden, but if I were going to get married at Monticello there were going to be guests and pictures. I’ll ask again this trip, and if they’ve changed their minds I’ll get a divorce and remarry my husband, just for the wedding. About this I think I’m only 30 percent kidding. In other words, I really like Monticello. I considered working there after college in some capacity, but magic is lost once you go behind the curtain.
It must have something to do with Jefferson himself. Granted, Monticello is genuinely appealing to many people--it's not an ugly place--but I like knowing that Jefferson was there. I share none of his intellect, eloquence, foresight, or taste, so I can't view Monticello or the world as he did, but I like being close to it anyway. What I can relate to is his struggle between ideals and reality, and how he could never really get the two to meet. The hardest person to fight is yourself.
It's peaceful up on the mountain, even with all of the tourists around. I'd love to have it to myself for a morning, but it wouldn't be authentic. Since Monticello was a plantation, in its "glory days" there would have been many, many people moving about the grounds all day as well, just with more purpose. Ideally, had I been able to visit during the "glory days" (the quotes remain due to slavery), James and Dolly Madison would have been there, and the cook would be serving the French dish of noodles with melted cheese that Jefferson liked. Mmm.
Update: I didn't ask about weddings. It's better that way.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Playing psychologist
I've edited many psychology books and journal articles, so many that I sometimes feel certified to open my own practice. I'd probably be more qualified to tell you what words are misspelled most often in the psychology field than the presenting symptoms for a cognitive disorder, but close enough. I also lived for two years with two psychology students diagnosing me for various disorders (some of which I may indeed have), I own the DSM-IV, and I watch Frasier. These are my criteria for my following blog entry.
I can't remember if I've talked about this before, but I would like to introduce a new disorder into the field. You've likely heard of the Peter Pan syndrome. It's not in the DSM; it's a pop psychology term, but awesome nonetheless. It was introduced by psychologist Dan Kiley, who wrote The Peter Pan Syndrome and The Wendy Dilemma. Quick overview: Peter Pan = men who refuse to grow up, and Wendy = inappropriately self-sacrifing woman (does all the work, complains all the time but does nothing to remedy it, "admits" to being wrong when not, full of self-pity, and generally an annoying and unnecessary martyr). Staying on the J. M. Barrie theme, I'd like to introduce to the wonderful world of pop psychology the Tinker Bell Disorder.
I termed this disorder a few years ago during a discussion with a friend. It reoccurred to me this morning due a dream I had last night of an ex (who may have appeared as Sonny Corinthos from General Hospital). In the dream a group of friends and I were staying at a beach house. A hurricane was coming, and my ex had decided to go stand by the ocean. He likely, as in real life, was doing this because he decided I would be better off without him. He loved me, or at least thought he did, and so because he loved me he'd stay away--think Edward Cullen in Twilight and you'll get the picture, minus the vampire part, although sometimes I felt like il suo cantante. Not that this ex ever in real life threatened suicide, by hurricane or any other means--he was never horrible and manipulative--but he did remove himself from my life on multiple occasions under the same premise. (This drama may explain why he appeared in the dream as a soap opera star). Anyway. In the dream I decided that I too would stand out in the hurricane for as long as he did. I woke up before the battle of stubborness could be won.
Ironically, when my ex was trying to be most like an adult--making decisions for me based on what would be best for me--he was behaving his most childish. He didn't really have Peter Pan Syndrome, mostly because of circumstances beyond his control, but it was this childish behavior, and subsequent non-grown-ups I was attracted to/I attracted, that led me to diagnose myself with Tinker Bell Disorder: Women who like men with Peter Pan Syndrome. Different from Wendy. Tinker Bell loves Peter even though (or because) Peter can't love her back. Tinker Bell exists only because someone wills her to be there, and, in fact, she has a very short life in Barrie's novel, because that's the way it's supposed to be. Fairies live (commit) only a short time because to fairies it seems like a long time. By the end of the novel Tinker Bell has died and Peter has forgotten all about her. Disney leaves this out.
Those diagnosed with Tinker Bell Disorder aren't really ready to be adults either. Aren't ready to be adults and aren't ready to love adults. Once Peter decides to leave Neverland Tinker Bell will stay back, or will actually cease existing because Neverland is the only place she can exist. In the movie Hook, where Tinker Bell actually talks, she tells Peter, "Peter, you know that place between asleep and awake? That place you still can remember your dreams? That's were I'll always love you, Peter Pan." Not the real world.
However, it's okay to visit Neverland now and then. (Just not Michael Jackson's.)
I can't remember if I've talked about this before, but I would like to introduce a new disorder into the field. You've likely heard of the Peter Pan syndrome. It's not in the DSM; it's a pop psychology term, but awesome nonetheless. It was introduced by psychologist Dan Kiley, who wrote The Peter Pan Syndrome and The Wendy Dilemma. Quick overview: Peter Pan = men who refuse to grow up, and Wendy = inappropriately self-sacrifing woman (does all the work, complains all the time but does nothing to remedy it, "admits" to being wrong when not, full of self-pity, and generally an annoying and unnecessary martyr). Staying on the J. M. Barrie theme, I'd like to introduce to the wonderful world of pop psychology the Tinker Bell Disorder.
I termed this disorder a few years ago during a discussion with a friend. It reoccurred to me this morning due a dream I had last night of an ex (who may have appeared as Sonny Corinthos from General Hospital). In the dream a group of friends and I were staying at a beach house. A hurricane was coming, and my ex had decided to go stand by the ocean. He likely, as in real life, was doing this because he decided I would be better off without him. He loved me, or at least thought he did, and so because he loved me he'd stay away--think Edward Cullen in Twilight and you'll get the picture, minus the vampire part, although sometimes I felt like il suo cantante. Not that this ex ever in real life threatened suicide, by hurricane or any other means--he was never horrible and manipulative--but he did remove himself from my life on multiple occasions under the same premise. (This drama may explain why he appeared in the dream as a soap opera star). Anyway. In the dream I decided that I too would stand out in the hurricane for as long as he did. I woke up before the battle of stubborness could be won.
Ironically, when my ex was trying to be most like an adult--making decisions for me based on what would be best for me--he was behaving his most childish. He didn't really have Peter Pan Syndrome, mostly because of circumstances beyond his control, but it was this childish behavior, and subsequent non-grown-ups I was attracted to/I attracted, that led me to diagnose myself with Tinker Bell Disorder: Women who like men with Peter Pan Syndrome. Different from Wendy. Tinker Bell loves Peter even though (or because) Peter can't love her back. Tinker Bell exists only because someone wills her to be there, and, in fact, she has a very short life in Barrie's novel, because that's the way it's supposed to be. Fairies live (commit) only a short time because to fairies it seems like a long time. By the end of the novel Tinker Bell has died and Peter has forgotten all about her. Disney leaves this out.
Those diagnosed with Tinker Bell Disorder aren't really ready to be adults either. Aren't ready to be adults and aren't ready to love adults. Once Peter decides to leave Neverland Tinker Bell will stay back, or will actually cease existing because Neverland is the only place she can exist. In the movie Hook, where Tinker Bell actually talks, she tells Peter, "Peter, you know that place between asleep and awake? That place you still can remember your dreams? That's were I'll always love you, Peter Pan." Not the real world.
However, it's okay to visit Neverland now and then. (Just not Michael Jackson's.)
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Summer's end
It's cold today. I started this morning with the window wide open in my office, then cracked, and now I've closed it. I'm not ready for the summer to end, which I can't fault August for, because even if summer lasted until March I still wouldn't be ready for it to end. I know there are places on earth with constant summer, but they also have big cockroaches.
I've finished my work for today, and it looks as though I may have a few days off before my next project. I planned on going to the park today, but going to the park in anything other than a tank top and shorts today would just depress me. It's true. Going in tank top and shorts and being cold would have the same effect. It's things like this that make me so fun to be around.
Summer suits me better than any other season (and so gives sunblock makers reason to exist). If you've known me for more than a few minutes you've probably heard me say that I'd rather be hot than cold, and I really mean it. Yes, in the cold you can warm up, but I enjoy being hot. And I live near trees, under which I can sit. Summer also gives me an excuse to wear as little clothing as possible--I very often consider moving under a pier at a beach just so it would be okay to wear a bikini all the time, in context. Do cockroaches like saltwater?
What I feel now is the foreboding back-to-school weight, which never made sense to me because I liked school, and doesn't make sense now since I'm not going back to school and haven't actually gone back to school in six years. Yet, it still exists. I suppose it's more of having to let summer go, again, like finishing a good book, or the series finale of your favorite television show, or the end of a good concert. Summer means windows open and bonfires and doing regular, everyday activities outside, like cooking, eating, drinking, reading, and watching sports. Summer means road trips and long walks. Summer is an open door. Winter in upstate New York is confining, and often literally traps you right where you are. Physical confinement often agitates my emotional claustrophobia.
You can list for me all of the reasons I should be excited for fall: leaves, football, watching Kiley's soccer games, cider, apples, brown, The Office starting again, and I am excited, but I would gladly delay all of them for a few more months of summer.
I know; get over it. I will. Just let me mope through the last B-Mets homestand of the season and maybe I'll feel a little better.
I've finished my work for today, and it looks as though I may have a few days off before my next project. I planned on going to the park today, but going to the park in anything other than a tank top and shorts today would just depress me. It's true. Going in tank top and shorts and being cold would have the same effect. It's things like this that make me so fun to be around.
Summer suits me better than any other season (and so gives sunblock makers reason to exist). If you've known me for more than a few minutes you've probably heard me say that I'd rather be hot than cold, and I really mean it. Yes, in the cold you can warm up, but I enjoy being hot. And I live near trees, under which I can sit. Summer also gives me an excuse to wear as little clothing as possible--I very often consider moving under a pier at a beach just so it would be okay to wear a bikini all the time, in context. Do cockroaches like saltwater?
What I feel now is the foreboding back-to-school weight, which never made sense to me because I liked school, and doesn't make sense now since I'm not going back to school and haven't actually gone back to school in six years. Yet, it still exists. I suppose it's more of having to let summer go, again, like finishing a good book, or the series finale of your favorite television show, or the end of a good concert. Summer means windows open and bonfires and doing regular, everyday activities outside, like cooking, eating, drinking, reading, and watching sports. Summer means road trips and long walks. Summer is an open door. Winter in upstate New York is confining, and often literally traps you right where you are. Physical confinement often agitates my emotional claustrophobia.
You can list for me all of the reasons I should be excited for fall: leaves, football, watching Kiley's soccer games, cider, apples, brown, The Office starting again, and I am excited, but I would gladly delay all of them for a few more months of summer.
I know; get over it. I will. Just let me mope through the last B-Mets homestand of the season and maybe I'll feel a little better.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Reason #4763 why I'm lucky
I'm very blessed to not only have pastors who are friends, but friends who are pastors. Thank you, Sara, for renewing our vows.
Reason #4762 why I'm lucky
Tuesday night, for our anniversary, my husband and I went out to dinner at a fancy restaurant. When we arrived the hostess looked at our name on the reservations list, then told us, "this tells me to see Mike [the manager]." My first thought: we've been blacklisted. But then she sat us at our table. Once the wine list and food came out I forgot all about our "see Mike" status. We splurged. Bottle of wine, clam sauce, dessert, etc. When the bill came our waiter said, "Your meal has been taken care of." Tim and I looked at each other in shock. Did the manager think he knew us? Should we tell him otherwise? Then our waiter said, "By a James Davis." Signature: "phone."
My parents completely surprised us by paying our bill. It was a really, really great gift. Thanks Mom and Dad.
My parents completely surprised us by paying our bill. It was a really, really great gift. Thanks Mom and Dad.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Another update
My [adjectives deleted] upstairs neighbors have FINALLY moved out. They were supposed to move out in May. They finally moved out a few days ago. I'm very happy about this.
In a previous entry I mentioned taking sleeping pills with the hopes that (1) they'd work and (2) they would produce interesting dreams. Neither (1) or (2) occurred (and you were all left with a very lame dream-theme month). So, in April, we actually started sleeping in our guest bedroom so I could sleep. We were guests in our own home. But, I was able to get some sleep.
If you've talked to me at all in real life since November you know how I felt about my upstairs neighbors. I didn't and don't like how I felt about them, the things I said about them, and that I was incapable of changing anything about their situation or mine. Instead of hating them I could have at least tried helping them, somehow. It wouldn't have worked, of course, but I could have tried. My ideal self I have not been lately.
Combined with losing my job and my disruptive upstairs neighbors moving in, I've not only not been my ideal self, I haven't been myself. I'm working on this. I'm sharing this mostly to say sorry to those of you who have had to talk to me in real life. Hopefully it will get better.
In a previous entry I mentioned taking sleeping pills with the hopes that (1) they'd work and (2) they would produce interesting dreams. Neither (1) or (2) occurred (and you were all left with a very lame dream-theme month). So, in April, we actually started sleeping in our guest bedroom so I could sleep. We were guests in our own home. But, I was able to get some sleep.
If you've talked to me at all in real life since November you know how I felt about my upstairs neighbors. I didn't and don't like how I felt about them, the things I said about them, and that I was incapable of changing anything about their situation or mine. Instead of hating them I could have at least tried helping them, somehow. It wouldn't have worked, of course, but I could have tried. My ideal self I have not been lately.
Combined with losing my job and my disruptive upstairs neighbors moving in, I've not only not been my ideal self, I haven't been myself. I'm working on this. I'm sharing this mostly to say sorry to those of you who have had to talk to me in real life. Hopefully it will get better.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Finally, a new post
Yes, it's been kind of a long time since I've posted anything. To update you, since my last post the following things have happened (well, that have affected my life):
I became a year older.
Baseball season started.
My husband got inducted into the National Honor Society for History. The same one I'm in, from, um, many years ago.
I earned my second pint glass from the Ale House.
I agreed to counsel two camps at Sky Lake.
I went to my first doctor's and dentist's visits without health insurance.
As the previous occurrence may indicate, I became officially self-employed (and very busy).
I survived numerous youth group events and fund-raisers, church meetings, Annual Conference, and polite suggestions.
I left a church service early so that I wouldn't miss the LOST season finale.
I watched the LOST season finale.
I've worn a lot of sunblock and bug spray.
I've worked at the park.
I've watched a lot of Home Improvement. It's on during my lunch break. I love this.
I've climbed rocks, hiked to the top of Wittenberg mountain, and survived a large-bird attack while on the aforementioned rocks.
And, I gave up a pretty big grudge, which I may blog about later. So stay tuned, sports fans. I'll try to be a better blogger, again.
I became a year older.
Baseball season started.
My husband got inducted into the National Honor Society for History. The same one I'm in, from, um, many years ago.
I earned my second pint glass from the Ale House.
I agreed to counsel two camps at Sky Lake.
I went to my first doctor's and dentist's visits without health insurance.
As the previous occurrence may indicate, I became officially self-employed (and very busy).
I survived numerous youth group events and fund-raisers, church meetings, Annual Conference, and polite suggestions.
I left a church service early so that I wouldn't miss the LOST season finale.
I watched the LOST season finale.
I've worn a lot of sunblock and bug spray.
I've worked at the park.
I've watched a lot of Home Improvement. It's on during my lunch break. I love this.
I've climbed rocks, hiked to the top of Wittenberg mountain, and survived a large-bird attack while on the aforementioned rocks.
And, I gave up a pretty big grudge, which I may blog about later. So stay tuned, sports fans. I'll try to be a better blogger, again.
Monday, April 07, 2008
What's more disruptive?
A group of students being silent in class, or a group of children skipping class?
April 25 is National Day of Silence, a day during which students remain silent to bring attention to anti-LGBT name-calling, bullying, and harrassment by representing those who no longer have a voice. Students hand out cards to others to explain why they aren't speaking. When I was in high school my SADD club held a similar day. Every eight minutes a student was tapped on the shoulder and thus "killed" by a drunk driver. This student left class, dressed in black, "killed" another student, and went back to their day completely silent. Nobody protested this event, and it was very effective.
Binghamton High School participates in the Day of Silence, which, like the SADD day, is a very effective in nonintrusive way to raise awareness, a day with aims to stop bullying of all kinds and protect students of all orientations. However, the kind and loving and Christlike groups Mission:America and the American Family Association think participation in this group will ruin the world. Yes, I was dumb enough to read an article in my local paper titled "Day of Silence at BHS Draws Protest." (I highly suggest that, if you believe in anything good and holy, you avoid the reader comments if you dare to read this article at all.)
Apparently, these two unfortunantly enormous national groups feel the need to speak out against the Binghamton High School gay-straight alliance, which has a whopping 20 members. They want Binghamton parents to write the school and threaten to keep their children home from school on April 25 if the administration allows student to be--huh!--silent. Day of Silence disrupts learning, they argue. But keeping your child home from school entirely doesn't.
It's not really the silence they are protesting, but the reason for silence. (The argument that the day is "disruptive" is grasping at straws.) In their well-practiced way, these conservative "Christian" groups are playing the victim. According to Buddy, yes Buddy, Smith of the American Family Association, "'Day of Silence' is about coercing students to repudiate traditional morality." Founder and Chairman of American Family Association's ActionAlerts Donald E. Wildmon says "DOS is a nationwide push to promote the homosexual lifestyle in public schools."
I don't mean to give venue to these men's ridiculous and hate-filled exaggerations, but I wanted to put up their definitions of Day of Silence versus the official Day of Silence purpose: to bring attention to anti-LGBT name-calling, bullying, and harrassment, as I said previously. These "Christian" groups have taken the Gay, Lesbian, and Straight Education Network's request that LGBT students not be harrassed and have twisted it into being an attack on straight people, a recruitment to the "gay lifestyle." Protesting Day of Silence is supporting hate and bullying, it's as simple as that.
Wherever you stand on the "gay issue" (which I can't believe is still an "issue"), decent human beings in general don't want to see kids harrassed and in some cases killed simply because they are gay. Even if you don't "believe" in the "gay agenda," do you really want to go on record as telling a gay youth he/she deserves to bullied? Maybe you do, but I like to think most people don't. Go about expressing your beliefs in a different way, and aim your views at adults, not children.
No person straight or gay should be bullied or harrassed, but Day of Silence is to bring attention to the constant use of the words "dyke" and "fag," the constant teasing and bullying of those who appear gay (both straight and gay), and the commonplace and accepted violence against LGBT individuals, especially in schools. Please don't make the argument that LGBT individuals shouldn't have "special" protection from hate crimes; it makes you sound dumb. LGBT individuals need special protection because they receive special hate. There are plenty of laws for everyone else. The punishment for assaulting an LGBT individual is the same punishment for assualting a non-LGBT individual; specific laws need to be on the books to PREVENT such violence. It's not about the punishment.
By protecting LGBT students from bullying, it protects all students from bullying. Please Mission:America and American Family Association and similar groups, please use all of your money and organization for actions that are really Christlike, that promote love, that help the poor, that represent the minority. I can give you a list of ideas if you'd like. Your resources could be much better used than attacking 20 students at Binghamton High School.
April 25 is National Day of Silence, a day during which students remain silent to bring attention to anti-LGBT name-calling, bullying, and harrassment by representing those who no longer have a voice. Students hand out cards to others to explain why they aren't speaking. When I was in high school my SADD club held a similar day. Every eight minutes a student was tapped on the shoulder and thus "killed" by a drunk driver. This student left class, dressed in black, "killed" another student, and went back to their day completely silent. Nobody protested this event, and it was very effective.
Binghamton High School participates in the Day of Silence, which, like the SADD day, is a very effective in nonintrusive way to raise awareness, a day with aims to stop bullying of all kinds and protect students of all orientations. However, the kind and loving and Christlike groups Mission:America and the American Family Association think participation in this group will ruin the world. Yes, I was dumb enough to read an article in my local paper titled "Day of Silence at BHS Draws Protest." (I highly suggest that, if you believe in anything good and holy, you avoid the reader comments if you dare to read this article at all.)
Apparently, these two unfortunantly enormous national groups feel the need to speak out against the Binghamton High School gay-straight alliance, which has a whopping 20 members. They want Binghamton parents to write the school and threaten to keep their children home from school on April 25 if the administration allows student to be--huh!--silent. Day of Silence disrupts learning, they argue. But keeping your child home from school entirely doesn't.
It's not really the silence they are protesting, but the reason for silence. (The argument that the day is "disruptive" is grasping at straws.) In their well-practiced way, these conservative "Christian" groups are playing the victim. According to Buddy, yes Buddy, Smith of the American Family Association, "'Day of Silence' is about coercing students to repudiate traditional morality." Founder and Chairman of American Family Association's ActionAlerts Donald E. Wildmon says "DOS is a nationwide push to promote the homosexual lifestyle in public schools."
I don't mean to give venue to these men's ridiculous and hate-filled exaggerations, but I wanted to put up their definitions of Day of Silence versus the official Day of Silence purpose: to bring attention to anti-LGBT name-calling, bullying, and harrassment, as I said previously. These "Christian" groups have taken the Gay, Lesbian, and Straight Education Network's request that LGBT students not be harrassed and have twisted it into being an attack on straight people, a recruitment to the "gay lifestyle." Protesting Day of Silence is supporting hate and bullying, it's as simple as that.
Wherever you stand on the "gay issue" (which I can't believe is still an "issue"), decent human beings in general don't want to see kids harrassed and in some cases killed simply because they are gay. Even if you don't "believe" in the "gay agenda," do you really want to go on record as telling a gay youth he/she deserves to bullied? Maybe you do, but I like to think most people don't. Go about expressing your beliefs in a different way, and aim your views at adults, not children.
No person straight or gay should be bullied or harrassed, but Day of Silence is to bring attention to the constant use of the words "dyke" and "fag," the constant teasing and bullying of those who appear gay (both straight and gay), and the commonplace and accepted violence against LGBT individuals, especially in schools. Please don't make the argument that LGBT individuals shouldn't have "special" protection from hate crimes; it makes you sound dumb. LGBT individuals need special protection because they receive special hate. There are plenty of laws for everyone else. The punishment for assaulting an LGBT individual is the same punishment for assualting a non-LGBT individual; specific laws need to be on the books to PREVENT such violence. It's not about the punishment.
By protecting LGBT students from bullying, it protects all students from bullying. Please Mission:America and American Family Association and similar groups, please use all of your money and organization for actions that are really Christlike, that promote love, that help the poor, that represent the minority. I can give you a list of ideas if you'd like. Your resources could be much better used than attacking 20 students at Binghamton High School.
Friday, April 04, 2008
Help fight cancer!
If you yourself haven't had cancer, you know or have lost someone who has. This sucks. So I am once again participating the American Cancer Society's Relay for Life this summer. Relay for Life is an all-night event held to raise money and awareness with the goal of eliminating cancer. Teams camp out on a track and must have one person on the track at all times--yes, even at 3:00 a.m., rain or moon. Most important, the teams raise money before and during the event.
Most cancers are preventable. Most cancers can be detected early. Most cancers can be treated. I Relay for education, better detection methods, and better treatment methods, but what I Relay most for is a CURE. Scientists and researchers get closer every day--but they need funding to be able to do so. So give me money (to give to the American Cancer Society)!
How? Visit my Relay for Life page here. There is a secure online donation form you can use to donate to me or to my team, the PT Cruisers. Please consider donating a dollar or two or fifty. If enough people donate just a dollar we can reach our team fund-raising goal, and help stop this stupid disease. My Web site also has instructions for donating offline as well.
Thank you in advance.
Most cancers are preventable. Most cancers can be detected early. Most cancers can be treated. I Relay for education, better detection methods, and better treatment methods, but what I Relay most for is a CURE. Scientists and researchers get closer every day--but they need funding to be able to do so. So give me money (to give to the American Cancer Society)!
How? Visit my Relay for Life page here. There is a secure online donation form you can use to donate to me or to my team, the PT Cruisers. Please consider donating a dollar or two or fifty. If enough people donate just a dollar we can reach our team fund-raising goal, and help stop this stupid disease. My Web site also has instructions for donating offline as well.
Thank you in advance.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
You've got bad bells, Phil.
Last night Phil Donahue tried to teach me to play the bells. They wouldn't ring. I think I was holding them wrong.
P.S. I've started taking OTC sleeping pills in an attempt to fall back asleep after (or, if I'm very lucky, not be woken up at all by) my inconsiderate and very loud upstairs neighbors who stay up until 4:00 a.m. every night. No, they don't have jobs. The lovely Tylenol sleep aid could enhance or construe my celebrity dreams, or bring about a whole new dream theme. Stress = celebrities, sleeping pills = odder celebrities than usual/something else altogether? I've never dreamed of Phil Donahue before. I will likely be using these pills until my neighbors' lease is up at the end of April. (Please cross your fingers for me that the landlord does not renew their lease.) So, whether or not next month's blog is a "theme month," I will inform you of any sleeping-pill induced celebrity dreams. Don't worry.
P.S. I've started taking OTC sleeping pills in an attempt to fall back asleep after (or, if I'm very lucky, not be woken up at all by) my inconsiderate and very loud upstairs neighbors who stay up until 4:00 a.m. every night. No, they don't have jobs. The lovely Tylenol sleep aid could enhance or construe my celebrity dreams, or bring about a whole new dream theme. Stress = celebrities, sleeping pills = odder celebrities than usual/something else altogether? I've never dreamed of Phil Donahue before. I will likely be using these pills until my neighbors' lease is up at the end of April. (Please cross your fingers for me that the landlord does not renew their lease.) So, whether or not next month's blog is a "theme month," I will inform you of any sleeping-pill induced celebrity dreams. Don't worry.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Thanks but no thanks, Jerry.
I was walking through New York City one afternoon when Jerry Seinfeld pulled over to see if I wanted a ride. He was driving a semitrailer. I said no thanks. He said he understood.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Fa IS a long, long way to run
Last night I was governess to the Von Trapp children, the movie children of course. We went fishing, then had a picnic of our fish, which tasted really, really bad. I was hoping we'd sing a song about bad-tasting fish, but we did not. I must not have taught them to sing yet.
And no Captain Von Trapp, movie or otherwise.
I love Christopher Plummer.
And no Captain Von Trapp, movie or otherwise.
I love Christopher Plummer.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
No John Tesh, I will not play in your band.
I promised to make March's blog entries a theme month as well, and have now gone halfway through the month without posting anything. I'd say I am ashamed, but I'd be lying. I was just lazy. But I'll keep you in suspense no longer.
When I am stressed, I have dreams about celebritities. I saw a lot of Al Gore in college. With my publishing company recently closing, some friends and I assumed this would be prime time for celebrity dreams. Fortunately (though unfortunately for this blog), I haven't been as stressed out as I assumed I would be. Since February 15 I've had celebrity dreams only of Jim Carrey being a member of my youth group and of John Tesh asking me to be in his band. But don't worry, I will post about other celebrity dreams I've had that I remember, and will likely never forget.
By the way, when John Tesh asked me to join his band, I told him no, because he pronounced "diabetes" as "diabeetus." I think it's a valid reason. The first, thus correct, pronunciation of "diabetes" given in Webster's is "dye-a-beet-eez" (though using other pronunciation guide symbols of course). And while we're on the subject, "syrup" is correctly pronounces as "sir up" and "caramel" as "car mell." I hope I don't have to correct Al Gore.
When I am stressed, I have dreams about celebritities. I saw a lot of Al Gore in college. With my publishing company recently closing, some friends and I assumed this would be prime time for celebrity dreams. Fortunately (though unfortunately for this blog), I haven't been as stressed out as I assumed I would be. Since February 15 I've had celebrity dreams only of Jim Carrey being a member of my youth group and of John Tesh asking me to be in his band. But don't worry, I will post about other celebrity dreams I've had that I remember, and will likely never forget.
By the way, when John Tesh asked me to join his band, I told him no, because he pronounced "diabetes" as "diabeetus." I think it's a valid reason. The first, thus correct, pronunciation of "diabetes" given in Webster's is "dye-a-beet-eez" (though using other pronunciation guide symbols of course). And while we're on the subject, "syrup" is correctly pronounces as "sir up" and "caramel" as "car mell." I hope I don't have to correct Al Gore.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Love Letter #8
Dear B-Mets "Name That Bobblehead" promotion,
Give a raise to whoever came up with you. I'm very happy that Richard "Captain America" Tylicki is an option. Robert Ford should also be on the list. Maybe next year. But really, it doesn't matter, because I will be voting for Stacy Wickham. As will everyone who reads this blog entry. See below.
Dear everyone reading this blog entry,
Go here. Scroll down to the voting apparatus on the left. In the "Other" option, write in "Stacy Wickham." Do this multiple times a day. If one of the mascots win I will boo loudly. Then mascots public shame will be on your heads.
P.S. Don't vote for the mascots just because you want me to boo them. There will be other opportunities.
Give a raise to whoever came up with you. I'm very happy that Richard "Captain America" Tylicki is an option. Robert Ford should also be on the list. Maybe next year. But really, it doesn't matter, because I will be voting for Stacy Wickham. As will everyone who reads this blog entry. See below.
Dear everyone reading this blog entry,
Go here. Scroll down to the voting apparatus on the left. In the "Other" option, write in "Stacy Wickham." Do this multiple times a day. If one of the mascots win I will boo loudly. Then mascots public shame will be on your heads.
P.S. Don't vote for the mascots just because you want me to boo them. There will be other opportunities.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Love Letter #7
Dear Annie's Bunny Grahams,
No offense to Teddy, but you are way better. And because you are organic, natural, and believe in community and sustainability I get to pat myself on the back while overindulging on your tasty snacks. I guess I should maybe pat you on the back too, for your good ethics, but mostly for your good grahams. Chocolate is my favorite.
Love,
Tara
P.S. Your macaroni and cheese is super too.
No offense to Teddy, but you are way better. And because you are organic, natural, and believe in community and sustainability I get to pat myself on the back while overindulging on your tasty snacks. I guess I should maybe pat you on the back too, for your good ethics, but mostly for your good grahams. Chocolate is my favorite.
Love,
Tara
P.S. Your macaroni and cheese is super too.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Love Letter #6
Dear faith,
Relying on you sometimes sucks, and sometimes doesn't. I'm daily residing at both extremes. But thank you for being an option for me. I couldn't do it without you.
Love,
Tara
Relying on you sometimes sucks, and sometimes doesn't. I'm daily residing at both extremes. But thank you for being an option for me. I couldn't do it without you.
Love,
Tara
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Love Letter #5
Dear little clothes dryer that fits in our bedroom,
You are useful, warm, and soothing. You not only warm up my bedroom for me when it's frickin' freezing, you help cover up the noise coming from the aforementioned upstairs neighbors with your lilting hum. And on top of all of this, you dry my clothes! Thank you for all the purposes you serve in my life. I love you.
(Little washing machine in the kitchen, you're not so bad either.)
(Earth: I still air dry some clothes. When my upstairs neighbors move out, I'll use the dryer much less.)
You are useful, warm, and soothing. You not only warm up my bedroom for me when it's frickin' freezing, you help cover up the noise coming from the aforementioned upstairs neighbors with your lilting hum. And on top of all of this, you dry my clothes! Thank you for all the purposes you serve in my life. I love you.
(Little washing machine in the kitchen, you're not so bad either.)
(Earth: I still air dry some clothes. When my upstairs neighbors move out, I'll use the dryer much less.)
Friday, February 08, 2008
Love Letter #4
Dear authors who don't use an ampersand for "and,"
You are practical and sensible and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Ampersands may have their place in APA references and proper titles, but that's it. You, like me, realize the asininity of pressing "shift" "7" instead of typing three letters that can be easily typed without having to move your hands from the designated typing position. You do not waste my time by making me change all of your annoying and purposeless "&" to "and." You probably never realized how much this means to me. It's the little things.
Love,
Tara
You are practical and sensible and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Ampersands may have their place in APA references and proper titles, but that's it. You, like me, realize the asininity of pressing "shift" "7" instead of typing three letters that can be easily typed without having to move your hands from the designated typing position. You do not waste my time by making me change all of your annoying and purposeless "&" to "and." You probably never realized how much this means to me. It's the little things.
Love,
Tara
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Love Letter #3
Dear sleep,
I know I sometimes spurn your advances. I'm sorry. And now my loud-video-game-playing upstairs neighbors who like to yell the f-word and smoke pot are trying to keep us apart. But you are stronger than some dumb video game. You are stronger than an overused cuss word. You are more legal than pot.Don't give up on me. I promise I'll never abuse you again.
Love,
Tara
I know I sometimes spurn your advances. I'm sorry. And now my loud-video-game-playing upstairs neighbors who like to yell the f-word and smoke pot are trying to keep us apart. But you are stronger than some dumb video game. You are stronger than an overused cuss word. You are more legal than pot.Don't give up on me. I promise I'll never abuse you again.
Love,
Tara
Monday, February 04, 2008
Love Letter #2
Dear camera on my cell phone,
Babies love you and so do I. Without you I could have never documented television station FSN-SW calling Antoine Vermette "Andrew" Vermette, messages on cabin walls that are marked as untrue, Jim Halpert's face when he saw Dwight and Angela making out, Joey Ice Cream (to show Pastor Rob whose picture pops up when he calls me), impressive Wegman's grocery packing, the boy with the unibrow who graduated with Jean Wickham, Mike's New Year's Eve instant message conversation, big hair, disproportionate Jesus hands, guy love when it occurs, and sightings of Topher Grace, Adam Levine, and Peter Quinn. Thank you, cell phone camera, for making my life better.
Love,
Tara
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