Ahem

Ok, so there were a lovely bunch of you who requested directions to the new place, back before I had decided where to go.
However.
Not a one of ya left an email address.
This I discovered after crafting the following email to send to you:

Hi everyone!

Sorry I took so long to get this out to you, I just wasn’t really sure what the final decision was going to be. Hell, I’m still not sure. But for now, Lucky Star is it. Thank you all so much for wanting to continue on this rollercoaster-on-crack journey of mine! I wish I had more time to read blogs…there are so many of you that I don’t read enough and I miss you.

Feel free to link me; I’m not hiding so much as finding some breathing room. ?

Be well.
Party on, Wayne.

Starsarelucky.blogspot.com

You guys are a bunch of dumbasses.
Good thing I'm one, too!!!
Love ya.
I guess I'll have to work to get the word out, and that's never a good thing for me.
Lay
Zee.
...kinda like Jay-Z...but less motivated and mogul-esque.

Ok, then.
I'm off.
Like your MOM's prom dress!

seahorse 

I have moved.

Snow!

Snow!

If you're looking for ME, click here.

Sober.

And not in a "clean and--" manner.
More like...somber and serious.
For the first time in nearly 4 years, I am ready to shut down this blog.
(That sounded a lot more dramatic than I intended...)
I will start a new one and give the address to anyone who is on my sidebar,
or has made multiple comments.
It's probably time to shed the "bored housewife" skin, anyway,
since I am far from bored and barely even a housewife these days.
I am a student and a shitty-but-hoping-to-improve journalist.

I wish I knew how to disable comments for a while or to hide all my posts without deleting them.

I am floating in the thickness of air which lies somewhere between "Humble" and "Humiliated".
Not a bad place to hang out, all things considered, but I'd like to find the door.

Everyone be on your best behavior, if you please.
I did indeed open up the Pandora('s-dorky-cousin)'s Box of a blog and invite...
somewhere near all of the other writers at the newspaper into it.
As I said, before I realized how scathing my newspaper-related blog posts were, they really are more than welcome here.
This is me.
Well...part of me.
I am much more mouthy on here...

--Back to your regularly scheduled program--

Parents due to arrive in about 48 hours.
I have forgotten to even feel excited about this, so I will take a moment to do so.
---
-
--
Ok.
Consider me stoked.
Once a year is not often enough.
I will be thankful for this additional visit, even though it's short.

Will continue pondering the change of venue, and keep you all posted.
I have a really cool domain name that I've been wanting to use full-time,
so maybe I will.
Maybe I'll let go of something before it kills me...
for once.
Eh, maybe not.

Well.
I think I'll go cook dinner, and pretend that none of the dear, sweet kids from the paper have ever seen this page or any of its...dubious contents.
Ack.

p.s. after receiving a bunch of "wait for me!" comments, let me add: I will share the URL with any- and everyone who asks.
And...now that I've had time to calm down, I think I'll go ahead with the move--
but I'll do it because it's time to shake things up, and not because I feel naked and exposed in front of a bunch of people who I'll see in real life but who don't actually know me...that's a freaky-fucking feeling, in case any of you haven't experienced it.

Here's what I need: Someone who knows how to transfer archives from here to another site...anyone...?

p.p.s. I realized that I should probably explaina little bit about what happened.
To summarize: I was extremely stressed out about, well, about life in general and specifically about the new expectations associated to my job at my school newspaper. I have no excuse for venting so ruthlessly here, but I hope the bigger picture can be understood. I am a giant lame-o who doesn't deal well with change--takes me a minute to adjust to new ideas and expectations. I was emotionally drained and attempting to drag myself and my two unrulier-by-the-second 6 year olds into Back To School Mode after a long and...unruly-making summer. I know, poor me. I am a baby, I guess. Anyway, it was just a lot for me to wrap my head around--I was scared of trying to switch my focus from reviews to previews and I began doubting that I was even doing a good enough job for it to be worth it to continue. I began wondering if I had the energy to do what it would take to be good at this job and its new responsibilities. All I wanted to do was sit in the cab of an abandoned truck and listen to CDs that don't belong to anyone anymore and cry for all the unspoken conversations, all the days I could have hugged but never did. But I couldn't wallow forever and we had to clean out more of his stuff from the garage this weekend and the truck is gone. Gone. I hate that I finally get my privacy back at this cost--I didn't mind, I really didn't. But I feel guilty for being happy to shower with the door open, and I feel guilty for being glad to have a guest room to offer my parents tomorrow...yes, in a house this size, we really only had one extra bedroom. Fuck, how did this turn into this? I guess...it's still heavy on my mind and in my heart and I don't care who I'm talking to right now. However. I wish I had expressed my concerns to my editor instead of trying to sort through it all first. I wish he knew how highly I really think of him.

September Eleventh

The first thing that struck me about the day was the date.
9/11
911
It was surreal,
and sad in such a large and encompassing way that it was almost too much to fold it into me.
I am so sorry for the thousands of people out there who lost someone (or more) close to them that day.
I am so sorry for the thousands of people who are still afraid to fly because of it.
I am so sorry for the people who believed with all their hearts that they are right and we are wrong.

***********

Now.

My brain is on fire.
I guess I should watch who I mind-fuck.

Yes, yes, I know--
I'm hilarious.
Actually, I wouldn't know how to mind-fuck if you gave me a Mensa Kama Sutra step-by-step manual.
Unless you're talking about dirty thoughts, cuz I have plenty of those,
and I know how to share them.
But.
that's not what mind fucking is.
Why am I stuck on this subject???

Odd...I am so accustomed to being flighty that talking about one thing for more than 2 seconds make me feel stuck in a rut.
I'm a weirdo.

A weirdo who would like very much to be asleep right now.
I think I have had too many late nights and not enough late mornings recently.
I shall work to rectify that.
I took down a couple of posts today, because I fear I may have opened the door and ushered in some newspaper-related guests.
That's ok.
They are actually more than welcome here, but I am sure you know the posts I am referencing.
Ugh.
I was just venting...

How about if I stop being such a self-centered bitch?
How are YOU GUYS doing?
What's new with you?
I want to know.
Tell me what you did over the weekend, and make it good--
we can have a little round of, "Lie or Lay",
and you can either tell a lie or get laid.
er.
No, back up.
You can tell a lie or tell a truth...and I'm not sure what "lay" has to do with that, but I like the way it sounds.
And feels.
And...
uh...

Ready, Set, Go!!

edit:
Um. It's official...
If I would have read my horoscope today, it would have said, "You're an ass. Stop talking."
Or something like that.
I should write horoscopes.
Or be a "Dear Abby" impersonator.
Or just crawl back in my hole and revel in my creativity...
where did it go?
I had some once, I know.
Back...
so long ago.

Domestic Goddess: I have far less on my plate than you do, which is why I have time to blog...it does little to explain why I weigh twice as much as you, though.
Who's the third founding father??
I watched Bowling for Columbine today and blushed.
And...this project is amazing...You are truly a Goddess.
Why am I answering comments in an addendum to my blog post?
Why am I sitting here at all, when I have Astronomy homework to finish and a tooth-aching husband to hang out with??
Ok, I'm off.
Like a prom dress.

I logged in because I had something to say

But that was an hour ago...
really?
I think my time stamp is off.
It feels like it was at least 3 hours ago.
Hm.
Whatever.

The point is, I am marginally "over" my tantrum from yesterday.
I realized I can't quit, because I have a 3 credit class which is tied into working for the paper.
Bah.
So much for my "I don't think I'm what you're looking for" speech.
Besides, that's bullshit.
I'm not sure what's going on, but I know he (editor) knows I can write,
and I know he knows I can do this job.
What I don't know is why the fuck I'm having such a hard time interviewing people.
Ok, so I've only had a few tries, and really no idea what the hell I'm looking for when I go into it, and that couldn't be good.
I guess I am just going to have to try to get by on reviews and a few opinion pieces...

Ok, I'm finished with that rant.
For now.

I have a much more exciting and creative project underway, anyway.
Outweigh,
Thatway
Yourway?
Whatever.
I'm brainstorming and will let you know if/when it turns into anything.
All that matters is that it's going to be fun and hard.
My favorite...
ha.

I am glad it's Saturday night, because that means the chances of anyone reading this drivel are very slim.
I cannot promise a better post next time, but I will sure try.

Whoever mentioned doing a story on my dentist did not have a bad suggestion--
he IS an alumnus, after all!
And a former Chronicle reader, to boot.

I also loved amusing's suggestion for a story, but...
since I'm supposed to be doing theatre previews, articles, and reviews, I don't think that'll really fly.
And it's precisely why I have no desire to be a journalist.
The news has always frightened and baffled me--
the collection of it, the presentation of it.
Shut up.
I'm serious.
I'm pretty sure it was just last week that I was proudly declaring that I should change my major to journalism because it was my true calling,
so....
seriously, who's slipping me the Crazy Pills?
Is it the same person who's giving me Memory Loss and Weight Gain Pills????
Fuckers!!!!!

Ok, well, that was my hot date on the phone.
She'll be here shortly, to escort me to tonight's play.
Do not let the fact that she's a former lesbian influence your interpretation of those statements.
Unless your name starts with a....
Heh.

Oh, I suppose I should mention how I've spent my day:
luxuriously swaddled in high thread-count sheets, in enough positions to make your head spin.
Well, they made MY head spin.
Seriously.
Almost blacked out at one point.
there were also movies and breakfast-in-bed and a bath for me/nap for him.
Very
very
Nice.
We haven't had a gooood lazy day in a while,
and we needed it.

I got home yesterday and the truck was not in the driveway.
I was slammed in the gut with a brief urge to puke, but it passed as soon as I realized hubby had probably just taken it for some cargo-related errand, but...
gah.
This morning we were watching VH1 Classic and Quiet Riot, "Cum on Feel the Noise" came on.
I didn't cry, but I was sucked into reminiscing about the funeral.
I guess I shouldn't be surprised that I am so emotional about this...
I'm a deep-feeler.
And it's strange but I really like crying.
It's when I think about him without feeling sad that I get freaked out.
I panic--"why doesn't it feel like he's gone?"
Oh, I also took the opportunity of a long drive last night to cry loudly.
Hadn't done that before.
It felt good to let out the barking sobs and suspiciously wail-like sounds.
And meanwhile I keep putting off sending an email to all the brothers to ask them for (content) contributions to the book I'm making.
Blah.

Hey, you're welcome!
If I can bring anyone down on a Saturday night, that just makes my day.
I think I need to start a blog for my thoughts on him.
Ok, maybe I already started one...
I just need to get un-lazy and use it.
Do you even know how hard it is to post to more than one blog????
Jesus.
it's like...so crazy, that you have to add extra syllables--
Cuh
ray
zeeeeeeeeee.
Trust me, it's nearly impossible.
I have like 8 with this account, and I
nev
er
use them.
I don't want to hear your success stories, so keep 'em.
In fact, keep the damn things
AND
fuck riiiight
off.
Or on, I dont' really care.

Ok, see?
I'm cheerful.
Be cheerful, too.
I'm going to go enjoy a super fun play with a super fun friend.

It's a grey day

And I'm feeling a little frustrated.
Hopefully I can do better next time.
Hopefully I can learn how to interview people...
Fuck.
So, that restaurant I was supposed to write about?
Turns out it wasn't supposed to be a review after all.
I don't know how much more of this I'm willing to put up with, honestly.
I was not told it wasn't a review--
I was told to interview the guy and see what I could find for a story.
Guess what this SEASONED, 2-interview journalist found from a couple of guys who only wanted to talk about the restaurant?
Nada.
Not a damn thing.
I will share in the blame:
as I said, I am new to interviewing.
Not only that, but I never read newspapers, so I don't even have the feel of what a "good" news story is.
I also didn't know I was supposed to be WRITING a news story.
I thought it was supposed to be an overview of the place, with some history/background info.
No mention was ever made of "Hey, make sure you're not writing a review."
Bah.
I know, D-man, I kow--
that's what writing for a paper is all about.
Journalism sucks balls.
No, I take that back.
I would rather suck just about anyone's (freshly washed and disease-/cootie-free) balls than do this.
And the great news is that I have 2 more interviews to arrange and collect for an article due by Wednesday, and 2 plays to watch this weekend to review--
and then probably get told I am not allowed to review them.
I'll give it a couple of weeks, but after that, I'm hitting the road.
It is sucking my will to write, and I don't really need that.
I do know that I wouldn't want to write for a newspaper again, though.
I need to be my own boss...
("Oh, dear dad, can you see me now? I am myself like you somehow...")

Sorry for the whiney rant...
I should probably have breakfast before reading my stories.
Ok, so not only did I write a pretty great review (well, it had some funny lines, at least) which then got stripped down to the facts of the interview, but THAT got cut just about in half and is left dry and lifeless.
It sucks--hard and with teeth.
I am thinking that maybe the editorial process could be changed.
I don't know.
Maybe he wants me to quit.
Maybe he's trying to get me to quit by making all my articles look like shit.
Maybe someone's paranoid...
It's really a bad article, though.
And I wrote a pretty decent one.
I feel terrible...and this is why I'm ranting.
Do I care if my words are fucked with?
Eh, not that much.
I'm an egotistical writer, sure, but the main reason this is pissing me off is that I looked those guys in the eye (the restaurant owners, and yes, they share an eye, what of it??) and told them I would write a good article.
Because I know how to write.
I forgot the tiny little part about the editor and his axe.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I feel like I let them down.
And I tried hard not to, but they aren't going to know that.
I'm half-tempted to take in a copy of what I originally wrote, just so they know I tried...but all that does is make the paper look bad.

I hate it.

I have a dentist appointment at 9, shit! I better fucking go shower!! Dammit.
And then...
the gym.
And then...
kids home from school and go pick up babysitter so I can go to my Chronicle class.
Fuck.
I am far too emotional at the moment to talk to the editor, but I really should.
I should also not be writnig about newspaper stuff on here, in case someone finds me.
Oh well.
Fuck it.
I just need to ask him what the hell he wants from me.
It sounds like I missed the greatest year to be on the staff--
last year they had restaurant reviews,
last year they had hilarious, great columns.
For some stupid ass reason, the head editor has said, "No more columns in A&E".
what the fuck???
Those are the best part!!
Siiiiiiiiiiiiigh.
What do I know?

Ok, like I said, I gotta run.
I have precisely 35 minutes to eat, shower, and dress, so I better run.

Wish me happy teeth cleaning!



Where I would rather be... 



More from Hawaii... 

Goooood morning, world wide web!!

One thing I love about being wrenched from my bed at the christless hour of 7:00
(yeah, shut up...I know it's not very early)
is that I now I have the
entire
day
spread out before me.
I have a bunch of homework and an interview with a restaurant owner,
but it feels great knowing I haven't procrastinated
(yet).

Guess what else feels good?
No, not my hands down your pants, but that's a good guess.
Also not your hands up my shirt--
although, I should clarify...
both of those examples would
actually
feel good.
Verrrrrrrry (purr-ifically) good.
However.
My point was that that's not what I'm talking about!
But look at that--I ended up talking about it anyway!!!
ha.
Shows where MY head is, eh?
Ok, so back to the subject...
Well.
Maybe not.
See....I don't remember what the Heff I was going to say!
"was that a typo?" you may be wondering.
Nope.
It's my new curse word.
I mean, shit, Hugh Hefner is an important man in the history of our nation's skewed perception of beauty, and I should think that earns him the right to be a swear word.
He really is a bit of a god...
I mean, how many other octogenarians can live polygamously with two insanely beautiful women??
Sweet.
I probably sounded contradictory just then, but I can't help it.
I'm in awe of the man, fer Hefsake!
Also, if you're not watching "Sexual Healing" on Showtime, then you should be.
It's my current favorite show.
Although..."Weeds" is right up there, and "House" just started a fresh season, so...
wow, it's gonna be tough to get homework done with all those great choices!

Ok, so the original "other" reason it's a good day
(or the object of the "feeling good")
is that I finally found the cable to connet my camera to the computer for purposes of
PICTURE
UPLOAD-a-rama.
Yipppeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!

And I just remembered that I have a whole bowl full of ripe avocados....
and another full of ripe peaches....
I love good produce.
It makes me almost as giddy as good wine.
Ha.

Ok, so without further ado, here is the famed
Green
Traverse City Film Festival
T-Shirt!!!
Sent by the lovely and fabulous-in-87-different-ways Domestic Goddess,
signed by the boss-man himself
AND a NYT Bestselling author---
I give you---
MY TA-TAs!


Voila! 

p.s. Blogger photo isn't taking my calls and Hello couldn't get Blogger to pick up for a while, either, but finally we tricked the dirty ole coot by using *69. Ha! Gotcha, Bloger, GOTCHA.

Sleepy afternoons are for....

doing homework and tying up odds and ends.
Which is too bad, because I was hoping a sleepy afternoon could be
slept
in.
Like a freshly made bed.

And now I'm being summoned and I have not the energy to return to blogging
upon completion of the task I'm about to perform.
oh, it's a big one:
walk up one set of stairs
find game on computer
See?
Tough stuff.

Happy Labor Day!

Hiking, pastries and beer, oh my!

Weather like this,

or whether like that...
ha.
But seriously--
weather like this makes me want to stand up and shout.
Sing, dance, etc.
Will have to think of something fun to do with the kiddos.
Tonight: girl's night out.
Yes, I realize it's Sunday.
But tomorrow's a holiday!
So...we're going to attempt to find some sort of hot spot tonight.
Drinking, possible dancing, possible karaoke.
I haven't had a good Girl's Night OUT in a while.
Tomorrow, a good hike with the J. and then a birthday party for a friend's little boy.
Should be a helluva weekend, all around.

I just found a piece of paper on my desk, as I rounded up little scraps to throw away
(somehow, I've managed to have trash cans in every room of this house except THIS ONE. And I'm the only one who ever puts things in the trash, so I really ought to have one in MY OFFICE...bleh.)
and I'd like to share it with you.
It's one of those hastily scribbled thoughts from a late night of tossing and turning.
Interestingly, it ties in with the thought I had last night:
each of them is expressing my concern over my writer's block.

My once silvery tongue is now more like slivery--
because, perhaps, someone told me that if I licked a tree branch at night
it would turn into.......
MORNING WOOD.

hahahahaaaaaaaaaa!!
Why, yes, I DO think I'm funny, why do you ask??
So then last night I was thinking about it and I began to wonder if the problem was more in my head, or in my own perception that it was a real problem.
I was thinking...
What if the problem is simply that I have stopped dazzling myself?
(and no, that's not a masturbation joke...)
Truly, I think that could be a part of it.
That and the fact that I just haven't written anything exciting in a long time.
So.
I should quit stressing about it and just let it flow...like I used to.
I guess there is no use living in the past.
Just let go and
BE.
Stupid girl.

I am so wrapped up in my own fears that I can't write.
Hell, I can barely even conjure a proper fantasy inside my own head for my own
personal and
immediate
use.
If ya catch my drift.

I don't know if I am meant to live in this world.
This white picket fence world...
it feels like walking around in someone else's life.
But I've had this thought before, and it always ends with my concession that I couldn't be happy if I had as much freedom as I think I want.
Ok, hands up--
who thinks this paragraph is the definition of CRAZY???
Come on, don't be shy. Raise those hands.
Shit, I can't count that high...
Oh well.
I explained it to someone once...
I said I balance on the edge, between appreciating and enjoying my life and wanting
wanting.
And that is how I can write.
but I think that's a lie.
I think I can't feel both contentment and restlessness at exactly the same time.
Within moments of each other, sure.
But not concurrently.
Not simultaneously.
Not synchronized...
I got sick of wanting, and so I stopped.
I don't really dare to Want anymore.
It hurts too much.
So.
Here I am, back at square one: can't write.
My head feels like a whole bag of pretzels.
And I HATE pretzels.
They're so bland...
and TWISTY!

Ok.
Maybe I'll go make eggs for sweet Max and then I'll come sit here in the quiet and open a blank word document and see what comes out.
Maybe.

Good Night

and....good....crap, what's that word I'm looking for?
good fuck.
Yup.
I wish you all a good fuck.
Everyone needs one once in a while.
Say...once a day or so.

My body is achy, but my mind is clear.
The stress over the newspaper gig has passed;
my editor is the king.
He is giving me the city theatre beat--
and having someone else cover the on-campus stuff, the stuff I was stressed about.
I can have a lot more fun with the city stuff.
I still have to finish up the one I started, but that's ok.
I feel like such a slacker.
I haven't turned in an article for any of the last 7 issues.
Eek.

I am just glad the clouds have parted a little bit...
I was feeling very overwhelmed.

I am finally letting myself cry again...a little at a time.
It feels like months have passed since August 12, 10:30pm.
Not so.
Only 19 days.
That BareNakedLadies song reminds me of it...the way they count how long it's been since different things happened.
It's been 17 days since his room looked like his room.
It's been 13 days since they put him in the ground.
It's been 19 days since he sat on my couch and we discussed his friend's penis. hee...fairly large, so they say.
The crazy part is it really feels like he's still here.
It's been 4 hours since I told the kids to get the hell out of the bed of his truck.
It's been 10 hours since the sheriff's office called to tell us they won't be able to helps us find his other truck.
Big penis-friend has been driving it for a year or so and he hasn't been reachable since...19 days ago.
I saw him that day.
No, I didn't see his penis. :)
He wanted in on some hot lesbian action that G. was planning and that's how it came up.
Came up...oy!

sorry for the downer.
You know me: if it's in my head, it hits this page.
So...sorry.
I know you don't technically mind, but I am still going to apologize for not being a more entertaining blogger lately.
Maybe I should quit stressing about it and just do whatever I want, eh??

Maybe what I want is to go to bed and think dirty thoughts before drifting off to sleep.
....maybe.