good mood interrupted...

(from MetaFilter via Alas, A Blog)

Charlie Russell and Maureen Enns - authors of a popular book and the subject of a fascinating and well-recieved documentary - have been living for months at a time with bears in Kamchatka, demonstrating that man and grizzly can, in fact, inhabit the same landscape without violence - at least, no violence on the part of the bears... Their work has been brought to a tragic and all too human end...


I read this and I thought I would splinter. I am so sick of heartless, moronic, selfish, destructive, stupid fuckers like these guys (and you know I don't use the f-word on here). It just made tears roll down my cheeks.

Ahhhhh-h-h-h-h...

My mood has changed substantially for the better today. Number one: I don't have to be back at work until Tuesday of next week after 11:25 a.m. today. Hot damn. Number two: I got a lot of good work done last night. I sewed tags into my hats, got the mannequin heads painted with a dark grey faux stone paint (looks cool) and got most of my scarf-hanging apparatus constructed. Number three: I don't have to deliver my artwork to the Candy Factory until Monday morning, which takes a tremendous amount of pressure off of me. Now I will get to test the scarf hanger and get some more figure pieces finished up. I can take my stuff over to the Guild this afternoon for judging and relax a little. Today is also my older niece's birthday! Happy birthday, sweet'ums!

AND, I'm having a good hair day. Can you beat that?! The only thing that would be better is spontaneously losing 20 pounds. Oh well, you can't have it all!!

meowsings

Just when you are feeling down, some wacky friend sends you something funny:

Warning to all dog owners : Watch your dog!
Dogs are being picked off one at a time. They are falling in great numbers. Police in the area advise all dog owners to "Watch your Dog."

insert title here...

Tired. Grumpy. Depressed. Maybe I need vitamins. I did run out last week.

Tomorrow I'm taking a half-day off so I can deliver my pieces to the ETACA show in the Candy Factory. I got some bases painted and finished last night and worked on completing another couple of figures I have let set around for a while. I'm also taking some felted pieces to the Foothills Craft Guild for judging. It would be a very good thing to get accepted into that guild.

Tonight I have to spray paint all my Styrofoam mannequin heads to display my hats. I guess I'll run out at lunch and get that---maybe a textured black spray paint. Actually I need several things. I have a lot to do tonight to get ready for tomorrow. Blergghhh. At least it's stuff I enjoy doing. I have GOT to clean out my "creative room"--it's too small to be called a studio. It's in such a mess that even I can't stand it--and I am a horrendous slob.

I hope my mood improves. There's just so much change and financial pressure right now that it cloaks all the good stuff in a cloud of worry. Sorry to be cryptic, but that's the way it is. I have to keep my eyes on the silver lining.

something about this building...

Apparently my office is made like a WWII bunker or something. I only get the absolute worst radio stations (oldies or elevator music or smokin' weed tunes), which makes me kind of freakin' irritable. Coming to work makes me irritable to begin with. Now, the building doesn't let anything in, but you can hear every single word co-workers are saying within the building. I swear, it's worse than cubicles. In cubicles the sound waves junk up and confuse your little tympanic membrane. But not in here. No. It's like coming to work in your underwear. My voice is PIPED into the offices around me. It would be ok if I were an EXTROVERT, but I'm not, I'm an INTROVERT. And I probably wouldn't care if I loved my job, but I DON'T--not anymore. Ugh. I feel like I've strapped my head to an electric sander, "Yes, that feels fine. No, please don't stop...I DO appreciate this. I WOULD like a spontaneous lobotomy. I DO like rigor mortis. Yes, please embalm me with boring, listless juice." Why can't I be one of those people who are just happy to have A job?

silver linings...

I had two things I wanted to do at lunch, get a package to the post office and pick up at veggie sandwich at Subway. On my way to my first destination, a little pick-up truck pulled out in front of me. I was going about 55 mph and slowed down a bit to let him get his speed up. Irritating. No, not really, because the next thing he did was stop DEAD in the road and wave out an 18-wheeler onto the road. Now I'm laying down rubber, honking the horn and watching the contents of my purse fly all over the car. I said some f-words...lots of 'em. And I hope he was looking in his rear-view mirror. I had to follow that human turdhead all the way to the post office. I gritted my teeth and clenched the steering wheel the whole way. But then, when I parked at the P.O. and gathered up my purse from the floor I saw something...my favorite sunglasses I thought I had lost! It made prying my hands from steering wheel a little less painful. My husband often remarks that it's a miracle there's not more people killed on the road...I second that one. I think it's a miracle anyone survives the road.

from the bowels of academia...

Well, I've commandeered a computer between classes and before I hit the snack machine for my fair and balanced dinner. Psychopathology (the class I just came from) always holds my interest. It's fascinating how we are all are plotted on a continuum of behavior. We were talking about when do you decide someone has crossed the line between what's "normal" and what's "dysfunctional?" Unfortunately, it's a grey line and subjective. Diagnosing with labels is more for the insurance company than it is for helping. I know plenty of "normal" people I could diagnose with something, but their behavior causes no disruption in their lives. Aren't you glad to have an accountant who is obsessive-compulsive? Of course. Now, if that accountant can't get out of the house for days because there are wrinkles in the bedcover, well, that's a different story. I wish everyone could take these classes because human behavior is greatly demystified in them, which, as you know, KNOWLEDGE takes away stigma. Of course, I feel like an old fart, but there are a few of us running amok on campus, so, I guess I'll just get over it. Onward.

you silly narcissist...

Weblog Indexes Help Journalists Track Stories -- and Boost Their Egos

dreaming of...republicans?

I had a weird dream just before I woke up this morning. I was at my mother's house and I heard singing outside. I thought, "What the hell is that?" I parted the curtains and saw all these people dressed up and marching down the street singing some song. It wasn't Onward Christian Soldiers, but it was close to that in style. I thought they were religious fanatics at first because as they sang they pointed at people like they were saying, "Yes, YOU, need to repent." But then I saw them trampling down my yard signs for Madeline Rogero, the democratic mayoral candidate for Knoxville. Then I knew they were militant republicans. One very tall man stomped down one of the signs and I banged on the window and motioned that he'd better put it back up. He ignored me. So I ran outside in my robe and pulled the damaged signs upright. They had all but dispersed by that time, but I yelled "immature imbeciles!" at a few of them. I screamed a bunch of other stuff too, but I can't remember what I said. What a nightmare...my first political dream. YECHHK.

I've lost my mo-jo...

Oh, Mo-Jo, where did you go? I'm blah. I'm unmotivated. I'm ka-put. I'm having a hard time getting anything done anywhere...work, art, home stuff...everything. Someone unplugged me. Someone stole my Mo-Jo. I bought new underwear...nothing. I ate cookies...nothing. I ate cheese ravioli...nothing. I slept in over the weekend...nothing. I blogged...nothing. I private-journaled...nothing. Next stop, beer.

By the way, how do you add "Link Cosmos" for your individual entries? I went to Technorati.com and couldn't find any instructions for such a thing. I need a geek, quick.

blue Monday...

I found out today one of the nicest people I have ever met died of cancer on Saturday. Her name was Penny and she worked tirelessly to help people affected by mental illness. She was a selfless, enthusiastic and dedicated advocate for the mentally ill. She had some physical problems, but that never stopped her from being incredibly cheerful and sweet. I worked with her on Habitat House projects and many other volunteer projects our company put together. I always enjoyed talking to her. Penny was only in her 40's and was diagnosed with cancer only last year. Unfortunately it had spread to her liver and that's never very good news. She was plucked too soon. She had so much to give. One thing is for sure--she gave everything she had while she was here. It reminds me how precious life is.

"Live not as though there were a thousand years ahead of you. Fate is at your elbow; make yourself good while life and power are still yours." --Marcus Aurelius

welcome to little Hattie...

My friend in Nashville just got a new puppy. Welcome to little Hattie...you found a good home!

Baghdad Burning

Must read--the blog of a professional Iraqi female: Baghdad Burning

hat tip to Driving with Dawn

"oh boy, now I'm a WRITER..."

Way back in 1989 I started a job with the marketing department of a local hospital. Cool, I thought, I will get to do some "real" writing. Previously, I had been doing copywriting for a retail company which was horrifyingly boring:
"Mockneck, long-sleeve ribbed pullover. S,M,L 19.00"
Woo-hoo. So, anyway, I was really excited about this new job where I could write about "important" stuff. I had my own office, my own computer, desk--the works. I got DRESSED UP to come to this job.

So, one of the guys in the office needed help with a brochure. I thought, "Great, I'm up for this. Wonder what it is?" He came in with a brochure that needed to be redone and said he needed it spruced up--you know, make it sound better.

It was a BARIUM ENEMA patient education brochure.

Uh. My cheerful little balloon didn't deflate; it was rudely blasted with a shotgun.

BARIUM ENEMA? How do I make THIS sound good? After reading the procedure, I just wanted to write, "Listen, this is going to be the most humiliating hour of your life. They're going to stick a garden hose up your ass, inflate a stopper so it won't pop out, pump you full of radioactive stuff that looks like caulk and make you squirm around so they can see the goop rumbling around in your intestines. Then you're going to run like hell to the bathroom and poop this stuff out. YOU ARE GOING TO EXPLODE. It will be LOUD and you will hear people snickering through the airvents."

But, I didn't. I tried to write the steps out at clearly as possible--as if I were writing it for my mother and I turned the copy in. I neither asked to see the finished printed product, nor did I ask if my writing had fit the bill. I just didn't want to know.

dirt diggers

Ahhhnold, you just thought the paparazzi was bad...
Let's see if I were running for governor in California, something like this headline would show up:
"News correspondents uncovered today brown streaks of fecal matter in the shorts of Hatamaran's father. See full coverage of the story that has darkened her campaign efforts tonight at 11." A real smear campaign, eh?
Leave Ahhhnold alone.

"ohmygawd, I'm in numbers..."

First of all, the person who said that should be exterminated like a nasty little roach. With that said, here's the story:

A former co-worker and good friend of mine decided to work at a department store cosmetic counter for a while after adopting a baby boy. She wanted more time with him. Some of the gals she worked with were really cool. I would stop by the counter when I was in the mall to see if my friend was working and I would meet her fellow frou-frous.

One chick really stuck in my mind though--what there was of her. She ate slim-fast with ice (like the ice was the added treat?) and popcorn. As far as I know that was it. When they had a lunch on the company, she brought her slim-fast. One day, my friend said she was mortified because she had gotten so fat that she was, *gasp,* "IN NUMBERS NOW." That's right, she had moved up from the toddlers' section to the pre-teens. She had crossed the threshold of no value to some value. She was no longer zero--she was one. I wish I had been there because I would have screamed, "Oh my God, I'm in mother-effin'-double-digits. What should I DO?!!"

First of all, she might think straight if she would eat something. Second of all, her husband, an athlete who should know better, put tremendous pressure on her to stay painfully thin. How many therapists does it take to...?

Girls, eat something. If you have to be thin to catch a man, I guarantee you the one you just caught is the wrong one. Be healthy. Laugh. Be happy. Be with someone who can be happy with you like you are.

This whole issue gets all up in my cornflakes (thanks M). I went through it when I was a teenager and I still get irritated when "ideal" female physiques are presented to us in magazines...bodies that are tiny. These are not bodies for everyone to strive for, they are body TYPES. I mean, my god, my BONES weigh more than some of these gals. They could shimmy inside my bone structure and have room to move.

Oh well...just be yourself. I promise you are a total bore if you aren't.

the evils of procrastinating…

All week I’ve been lazy—such is the life of a procrastinator. I procrastinated on making the figure (Gabrielle) and I mustered super-human tenacity to get it done, was pleased, then collapsed. I wish I would stop doing that. I pour out the entirety of my creative juices all at once; then I’m good for nothing for several days. The thing is, I don’t have several days to spend doing nothing with so many shows coming up. I bought a book once about overcoming procrastination. I started it, but guess what? I never finished it.

There’s no use in going to a procrastination support group because no one would show up on time, or they would show up and not say anything until the last 15 minutes of the session. The only group that would be worse is one for people with paranoia. Can you imagine? They would all clam up and stare at each other, formulating terrible stories about who the other people were and why they were really there. It would be funny except for the fact my father suffers from severe paranoia. Living with a really angry, paranoid person is very scary.

Back to procrastination. I’m not a severe procrastinator, but it’s bad enough to be non-conducive to the things I want to accomplish. I go through cycles of tremendous effort and tremendous exhaustion. I think I’m addicted to the feeling of being totally immersed in something—to the extent that the world falls away and doesn’t exist. It’s just you and your project and the glory of intense concentration. The thing is, I can only maintain this level of intensity for a short period of time before crashing. Once the project is finished, I turn into an idiot-savant without the savant part. Then, I build up energy again and soon I start to make sense—and start to produce.

If I didn’t feel so guilty about the lulls in-between the productive times, I guess it wouldn’t be a big deal, but I envy people who just steadily peck away at things, joyfully checking off each little item from their to-do lists. If you analyze me in day-to-day behavior, I’m very inconsistent, but on a larger scale my actions are all consistent with my larger goals in life. So, I guess I erratically peck away at my to-do list. I know exactly where I’m going, but the journey to get there always seems to include a bit of chaos theory. It drives my poor husband crazy.

back to the 80's

My husband just sent me this link. Enjoy!
Games of the 80's

I'm no Einstein...

I just started reading a wonderful biography of Albert Einstein...a book I have been meaning to read for a couple of years now. The book is about 860 pages long and I don't want to skim anything. So, I started this book less than a week before I start two graduate level classes with heavy reading (plus I work full-time and am working on pieces for three art shows before the first of the year). What is wrong with me? It will take me months to finish it now. Like I said, I'm no Einstein. I am in love with two Alberts: Albert Einstein and Albert Schweitzer, the latter being my very favorite.

True confessions: I broke down and ordered an egg and cheese biscuit at McD's this morning. Oops. But, what I saw when I drove up to order made me scoff. The promotional poster for the Big Mac was a teenage girl, who looked to be all of 85 pounds, holding up the giant triple-decker sandwich. She wore a big smile on her emaciated face. I guess they couldn't really put a big fat guy on the poster, but it just reminds me why I want out of advertising and marketing. Our society sends out so many ridiculous messages. It's no wonder people are so confused about themselves.

I am a feminist...

Ah, stop rolling your eyes. After reading some of the stuff at Dean's World**and various blogs of others, I thought it would be good to remind people what feminism is, straight from the dictionary's inky bowels:

fem·i·nism
(fm-nzm)
n.

Belief in the social, political, and economic equality of the sexes.

The movement organized around this belief.

That's it. I believe in equality. Shoo away the stereotypes. Some feminists are assholes; some aren't. It's doesn't have to do with being a feminist. I hear a lot of people use expressions like "a bunch of feminist crap," etc. If you say that, you are saying you don't believe in equality and I think there are actually precious few who would agree with that. You could assert that someone is using bad statistics in order to further feminist argument, but that has nothing to do with feminism, that has to do with a person who is either dishonest or a bad researcher. I do wish people would separate the two. Feminism itself is good. A feminist is someone who believes in equality of the sexes. Whether or not a particular person identifies herself (or himself) as a feminist is brilliant or dumb as shit is beside the point. Feminism still reads the same in the dictionary every time--equality of the sexes.

And really, a note on statistics here. For those of you who have taken college-level statistics, you know that there are FEW good studies of anything out there. To really state statistics, you have to know the source, read the study, understand how it was set up, whether control groups were used, a random sample, a statistically valid sample size, etc. We all have to be careful when quoting statistics, because even a good study can be spun around to look like something other than what it really is. Crafty use of graphic charting can completely distort results from any study.

Unfortunately, we don't all have the time to bury ourselves in research journals to see if we can reliably quote something or not. And, most people do not know how to interpret statistics or know what questions to ask when they hear something that sounds outlandish.

Just something to think about...
**Note: I wasn't trying to pounce on Dean on this issue. I am merely commenting on the fact that when people argue about feminists and feminism, they forget what those terms really mean.