20 Questions

The original post I saw of this was on a blog far more artistic than my own, but that doesn't mean I can't do a google image search and take some crappy snapshots anyway!

1. Show us the inside of something cute



2. What's the last homecooking you had?

[Christmas]

3. What do you miss? (no dead people please)



4. What makes you laugh often?



5. What's your favorite word?

[the]

6. What are you trying to quit?



7. What's your favorite commercial right now?


8. Whose style do you dig?



9. Link to a great blog you've discovered lately...

[Color Me Katie]

10. What's the last craft you made?




11. A photo of the last happy mail you got :]



12. Something you've got lately?



13. What are you looking forward to?



[tied with]



14. Post a recent snapshot of yourself.



15. Recent Favorite Movie?



16. Something you're working on right now?



17. If a movie were made about you, who would play you?



18. What gives you goosebumps?



19. Share a new obsession.



20. What's the meaning of your life?





[Original post by Polka Dot Robot]

Creativity Project 2010

I have been muddled and lacking focus; I've come to realize that times I feel I am at my best happen to be times I have a solid, satisfying creative outlet.

SO, call it a New Years resolution, a relevation, or ridiculous; starting now I am making a conscious effort to push myself toward creative pursuits. For example, I am currently writing. I can play my flute. I could learn how to [something cool]. Whatever. I didn't write a novel in November, and I may never write fiction or poetry again but that's okay I guess.

The entire point of sharing all this is in doing so, maybe I'll actually follow through. Here, I have two goals: 1. blog more. 2. get into a good ensemble this fall(?) when I go to Whitewater.

#1 sets the bar pretty low, but #2 is a legitimate, attainable challenge. I did earn a creative writing/english degree on a music scholarship. The least I could do is try to prove it wasn't completely pointless. That would suck.

Ocho

This month my younger brother turns eight. All day I have been asking myself, what do you get for an eight-year-old boy? More specifically, an eight-year-old boy who tires of his toys after a month if they have not broken by then.

Luckily, I did not have to agonize over it for long, as Walgreen's had Wisconsin Badgers wallets and keychains on the cheap. Insert cash, and voila: birthday gift!

But the challenge did not end there; eight-year-olds, for the most part, are not terribly interested in opening cards, and this issue was only complicated further by my bland card stash. Greeting cards are horrendously overpriced, but packets of ten or twelve blank cards are not only reasonable but also force you to write an original message. What's the point of sending a card if you're not going to write anything in it? And what kid enjoys his family forcing him to read each card aloud before ripping into its corresponding gift!? Yes, ours does. Especially when you are learning to read.

Somewhere between selecting a gift box and searching for tissue paper, I had an idea. Here's the thing - I LOVE giving gifts, and I can't stand having to do with a candle or gift card for lack of any better idea. I got to work, and the finished product turned out even better than I ever could have imagined, and I am so EXCITED about it, that (despite how narcissistic it may make me look, this is my blog)- I just have to share. Without further ado:

Many thanks to Google and Wikipedia.

The only problem now? How do I follow THAT with Christmas right around the corner??? Hahahaha!!!

And I Can Breathe In A Small Town

I moved out of my parents' house permanently in 2005. In the time between then and now, my hometown acquired its first set of stoplights, and a mechanical bull.

Not even a week after I'd settled into my first apartment, my remaining belongings were packed up, and my old room became my little brother's room, and his old room became the spare bedroom.

And THEN, my mom painted the bathroom orange. Not a bathroomy pink-orange coral shade, not some kind of dark rustic burnt sienna shade, ORANGE. Like a pumpkin.

Even though I spent my senior year there, I still can not get used to the presence of the "new" high school, and when I attended the homecoming game a couple fridays ago, my Blue Devils played a team that was not even in our conference when I was a student.

They say that after you grow up and move out, you can never actually go "home" and they always say it like it's a bad thing... but... I think it's awesome!

There is a lot to love in Evansville. And the fact that it is so unbelievably different from when I truly lived there makes it possible. I cut a lot of ties, dropped the nostalgia that was beginning to feel like baggage, and I just love that I don't come from a town that never changes. When YOU change, and your old town stays the same, it's depressing. It taints your memories when you realize what a dump you really came from and you see how totally insignificant everything you ever cared about actually is. That sucks so bad...

I don't know if I could ever actually live in a small town, but I am BLESSED to live so close to one as dynamic yet quaint and old-timey and hip all at the same time. I love love LOVE Madison, but I'm also extremely proud of where I've come from. It has taken nearly five years to figure this all out, but it was worth the wait.

Forever Young

It all started on the fail blog, where somebody posted this little gem:

As utterly idiotic as the question was, it made me think. In a few decades, an entire generation will be immortalized through facebook a-la Anne Frank's diary, and I just don't know what to make of it.

I was putzing around on one of my facebook apps (farm town, btw) and I had received an automated message from a facebook friend who recently passed away. My first thought was "UN-FRIEND ASAP," but I went to look at his page, and found that it was filled entirely with stories his close friends would never forget, condolences to his family, and even a few messages TO him from folks whose beliefs promised that was not weird. It was very nice. A virtual memorial, in a sense, so I kept him as a "friend."

This is not about facebook, though, the real story here goes back to livejournal. Livejournal was my best friend from 2001-2009. It helped me keep in touch with old friends who moved away, it was a place I could vent or gush about whatever was happening in my life, and it opened doors to a few quite intimate virtual friendships that opened my eyes to things, helped me, changed me, etc.

There was one girl in particular, whom I added because her profile really grabbed me - a quirky, outspoken bibliophile from Texas who seemed to have quite the unique outlook on life. Her journal drew me in instantly - she was immensely intelligent far beyond her years, and the comments she left on my own journal entries always made me think.

In 2007, she sort of disappeared off the face of the internet - and I worried. Between her accidental pregnancy and toxic boyfriend and everything else in her life it was not too surprising, though very curious. Her sudden absence became as permeating as her effervescent presence, so I searched, though not obsessively, and soon stopped.

I recently had e-mail correspondence with another individual sincerely wondering what had happened. I said I did not know, but hoped he'd let me know if he learned anything. This afternoon my worst fears were confirmed. The only relief lay in the fact that it was not an overdose or suicide or anything else that could have been prevented, but a serious medical condition.

She has been gone for two-and-a-half years, in which time I have mourned her absence, yet I still am completely blown away by her death. I lit a candle and began writing, because that is what I do. Of course I wanted it to be some sort of tribute or memorial, but I just don't know what to say. I'm sure I will publish this, but it is more for me and not you. I was hoping I might make sense of the whole thing through writing, but I can't. I hoped to bring myself to a profound conclusion, but one can not be drawn. It is what it is - life&death - because of the photo he sent me, I will always remember her smille. And so to S: I will miss you forever. Love, Megan (NOT Meghan).

[respectfully added 1/10/10 courtesy of postsecret]

Ikea Fevah

Over the course of the last twenty-five years and seventeen days, I have been to Ikea once. It. Was. Amazing.

Today I found out that my mom hates Ikea. Is that even possible? AND she gets to go tomorrow! The day is actually about spending time with her sister and their friend, and they're wonderful, she would go anywhere with them, so that's what's going on there.

So I tried to be an adult having a conversation with another adult - any adult with whom I can have meaningful conversations (not like, you know, MOM). I told her she would probably have fun if she wasn't so negative about Ikea furniture, that the day isn't really about her, and to try to make the best of it. She goes, yeah yeah... same as I'd say had our roles been reversed.

Since that didn't really ignite a spark, I tried plan B: share MY Ikea experience, which would surely end with some form of "you are so weird." But oh, well. I spent the next few minutes raving about how cool it is that they have sample rooms all set up where all the furniture matches and everything is always perfect and cool-looking and expertly-designed. Here, you play the Ikea game: you go find a nice, sterile example room, sit down, and pretend you live there for a while. When you get sick of it, find another one! Pretty juvenile, but when you are trying to have fun at a store where you don't particularly enjoy shopping, every remotely fun alternative is going to be juvenile. See: 50 things to do at Wal-Mart, a popular e-mail forward back when people actually forwarded that shit.

And here's the part you'll never believe. She totally went along with it. My mom, who thinks I have the STRANGEST sense of humor and an even weirder taste in just about everything - who knows me better than anyone in the world, yet still has some pretty WTF moments with me - she chimed in about camping out on a comfy couch (her favorite way to unwind at the end of the day) and I was all, yeah, maybe they'll turn on some HGTV for you! And we had a moment.

What's the point of this story? For a while, I don't think my mom very well liked who she thought I was becoming. She's always loved me in that mothers'-unconditional-love kind of way, and she's always been good to me. LATELY, however, we talk about stuff and connect and at times ARE just two adults shooting the shit. Like maybe she would enjoy my company, even if she wasn't obligated to. And... cue the sappy soundtrack... it means the WORLD to me.

I'll Take My Swine Flu With a Grain of Salt, Please

I should preface the following paragraphs with a sort of a disclaimer - I am not, nor do I ever claim to be an expert on anything. If there are holes in my theories, flaws in my logic then get in touch because I would LOVE to hear what other people think about this stuff.

Influenza is a big deal, I wouldn't wish it upon anyone. And I mean a knock-down, drag-out, butt-kicking, three-miserable-weeks-in-bed INFLUENZA, not "the flu" which has somehow come to mean a day or two of gastroenteritis; it's not the same thing. If I constructed a "Top Ten Pet Peeves" list, that one would fall somewhere between extra-over-privileged girls who don't understand sidewalk etiquitte and people who don't like to repeat themselves yet don't speak clearly.

Now that I've gotten that off my chest, chew on this: "In the U.S., an estimated 25–50 million cases of the flu are currently reported each year — leading to 150,000 hospitalizations and 30,000–40,000 deaths yearly (via). Okay - so that's just influenza. I would venture to guess these numbers were compiled long before an H1N1 outbreak scare made it onto the radar. And here is the kicker: the total number of reported swine flu/H1N1 cases reported in the U.S. has been a whopping 33,902 with 170 deaths (via). Not to mention it's only such an issue at all because of how easily it spreads, but that's only a problem if you don't wash your hands or you go around licking things or whatever you people who are always sick do.

But I didn't log in to Blogger today to complain about my pet peeves or post inadequately checked facts. No, no, no, I wanted to throw my two cents in about the hysteria. Actually, hysteria is a really misogynistic term, so I'm going to call it PANIC. And please don't.

I just want to point out that the media, be it radio, tv or print runs on ad revenue. If your content is NEWS, then there is great incentive to gain viewers. More viewers means more ad exposure. So now every company wants to have a commercial during YOUR show, and that drives the price up (basic economics, people). ERGO a larger audience = more money in media outlets' pockets. Of course, news outlets really don't have the same kind of creative liberty as a sitcom so they have go figure out other ways to generate viewership. They DO have the ability to exaggerate and/or selectively withhold information. So then information becomes a commodity of sorts and if you don't "watch at 10" you are made to feel as though you are missing out and if you DO watch, you're likely to hear a startling statistic out of context that just might not be so startling IN its proper context. They do this all the time (via).

The whole H1N1/Swine Flu pandemic is a veritable GOLD MINE for news outlets looking to increase viewership to inflate ad prices and make more money. And PLEASE don't get me wrong - WASH YOUR HANDS, wash them ALL the time, and keep that habit long after flu threat subsides. DON'T GO TO WORK SICK! What did the rest of us ever do to you? My fourth grade teacher said that all rules/principles to live by fall into two categories: respect and responsibility. So be responsible for keeping good hygeine habits year-round, and respect your peers by not exposing them to your illness. Can we all just agree on this and let the media go on to their next apocalyptic prediction?

We'll Never Forget You, Brent

Okay... this could very well likely get me into some trouble. OH WELL

To all of you Packer fans who harbor ill feelings toward Brett Favre, I have one question for you: what are you really upset about? And how on EARTH did you develop such a deep, emotional attachment to a professional quarterback you never have and never will meet?

Yes, I'm absolutely a Packer fan. In fact, last Sunday I placed a call to AT&T customer support, and the guy who took my call identified himself as so-and-so out of St. Louis, and I came thisclose to asking him if he was a football fan. But I kind of wanted him to fix my internet, and I am really not that kind of fan. What kind of fan AM I then? How about a passive, laid-back, nostalgic fan. The girl in packer pajamas having a beer on the couch on a Sunday afternoon. I get riled up ("go... go... go go go GO GO GO AHHHHHH!!!!!!) and I may have shead a tear or two, but I will NEVER buy green and gold face paint and even though I have never been to a game, I'd be lying if I said I'd sit in negative-thirty-two-degree conditions to catch the very last play (even though 50% of my genetic make-up comes from somebody who has).

ACTUALLY, Remember in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire when Harry attends the Quiddich Cup with the Weasleys? Everybody WANTS Ireland to win, but they are also fans of Viktor Krum of the other team, and want him to do equally well.

So everybody is rooting for Ireland as a team and Krum as an individual and sure enough, Ireland wins, but Krum catches the snitch. That is what I hope happens tonight. The Packers definitely need to win, no doubt about it. But I do wish Favre a good game - he is a talented athlete and should be celebrated for that.

But I digress.

Favre haters: what's wrong? Is it abandonment issues? Anger issues? Was your high school quarterback just so dreamy your perspective is skewed into projecting your juvenille crush onto Favre? Are you so isolated from social behaviors you have to create a false sense of community with people you will never ever know? You have never been in love with Favre, nor do you dislike him as much as you let on, so what is REALLY going on???

I do not mean this rhetorically, I really mean it, what is the issue really about???

Slacker for LIFE!

Two things happened in the last week: facebook ceased to be "blocked" by the computers at work and I am finally online at home. This is going to make me sound seriously uncool, but I will risk it - I really missed facebook. And yes, you can bet your ass I busted in there like a kid in a freakin' candy store. If there ever was such a thing as spamming your own stupid self, then I did it. And then I replied to it two seconds later.

I feel so much better now that I've gotten that off my chest. I'm not afraid of looking totally lame. I like to stay in. I go to bed early. I kill time being your least hip facebook friend. No longer do I elusively NOT post shit, offering the suggestion that I have something better going on most of the time. I don't, and I really never have. Half my FAMILY is on facebook, and my mom still refuses to participate. So I guess that makes even my MOM cooler than me... I won't sweat it.

And then what do I do when I'm not oversharing all over my stupid facebook? Oh, just finding that most of my old high school classmates have kids. KIDS! And pretty much everybody who doesn't have a kid yet is in graduate school and the rest of them own homes.

That's okay, too. I have become insanely comfortable with my lack of ambition, and I'm not ashamed of the fact that I do not volunteer my time, donate to charities, or even care to seek employment that requires my degree. Take a second and look a few inches to your right ---> I may have zero dollars in my google ad account, but at least I don't have to do anything. Sure, at first I had a total and-what-the-hell-am-I-doing moment... but there is just no sense in keeping score be it through GPA, income, number of healthy offspring or anything else that ranks highly in your value system. I would hope my old buddies feel the same way, but maybe I arrived at that conclusion because being a slacker for life means having GOBS of free time, and that means you get to sit around and justify slackerdom.

As long as I'm laying it on nice and THICK now, I might go so far as to call myself a "late bloomer." There is no sense in denying that trust funds are on the way, and I have thought long and hard about going back to school and actually applying myself a little this time around... Education - and I mean learning, not coming into good-enough grades through pre-existing knowledge and dumb luck - EDUCATION is truly an investment, an incredibly appropriate one, at that. I know I have it in me; some of my college classes were so interesting they compelled me to crack a few spines. Yes, most of my grades are wholly undeserved, but I can still say I have read an entire psychology textbook cover-to-cover AND I really don't have any qualms taking credit for five straight-A semesters of Russian (though I have to admit, the language somehow came easily to me).

So... what I do know is that there is no point in trying to plan out every step of your life, because sometimes the unexpected "problems" that crop up wind up totally necessary detours. There's nothing wrong with setting goals - graduating at the top of your class from Harvard medical school, or simply NOT overdrafting my account for the duration of tomorrow through my next paycheck, whatever. I may be a slacker, but I certainly haven't given up on myself.

If Only Over-Complicating Simple Solutions Were a Marketable Skill

So much for my awesome blog! I still don't have the internet at my apartment. This is mostly my own stupid fault. While home sick from work, my building maintenance knocked on my door to check my phone line. It was something like day three for my ratty pajamas and day two on my shower strike. The living room looked ransacked and the crumbs were slightly embarassing. I turned them away. I turned away building maintenance that, until that moment, I had been skeptical even existed.

It was a monumentally stupid move on my part, considering it would probably be another couple of weeks before my awful landlord would get someone up there to look at it again, but what was I to do? Plus, I had an appointment with AT&T Sunday. ALLLLLLLL day Sunday.

So. Sunday. Convinced AT&T was going to no-show (it was 5:30 at night), I gave up. I reclaimed my time, my space, and resigned to the fact I would not see AT&T. Yeah, they showed. After I reclaimed my time and space and DID NOT WANT to be bothered(!!!)

So that makes two, two monumentally stupid moves, ah ha ha! And still no internet. In a perfect world, building maintenance will ALWAYS show up when I am nowhere near my apartment (if I don't see strangers in my apartment, then it never happened, and it's not creepy) and AT&T tech support will give you an appointment time a little more specific than "Sunday."

So now I have to contact both building maintenance and AT&T and sheepishly explain whatever excuse seems most appropriate (because "getting sketched out" by maintenance workers alone with me in my apt. is going to sound hella stupid). I mean, most women get "sketched out" when strange men enter their apartments... that's reality. But at this point I can't think of a sketchier dude than the one who lived in my apartment for like six months, so there's that.

For the sake of humanity, let's hope I can figure out this mess before my first month's bill arrives. Tonight, I'm going to go down to the creepy basement and see if there are phone jacks hidden in the old laundry room. Or maybe I can convince a neighbor to plug my router into their phone jack, but then I guess that means I'll have to share my bandwith... UGH