look at the counter at the bottom of the page! we have almost reached 1,000! woo-ha! (technically, we reached that a while ago b/c i played around with templates and had to put a new counter in) but, let's pretend shall we. look at the counter and if YOU are number 1,000, i will send you an award!
Sep 30, 2004
my son won't be president
i turned the big ass mutha tv on to watch the presidential debates tonight. unfortunatley, penn is not into politics and i didn't get to really watch much.
after i got penn to bed i grabbed my snack size almond joy (actually, i grabbed three) and wrote this:
sbc: I would like to address my payment amount and billing dates. This is my payment history: Sept. 15--- $65.91, Sept. 7--- $22.48, Aug. 13--- $96.42, July 29--- $71.71, May 29--- $52.34, April 29 ---$52.34, March--- $57.11. As you can see the amounts and the dates are radically different. I have not changed one thing on my bill since I signed on with this company and yet, every month I seem to owe a different amount. I also had two bills in July and September. Once, when I discovered I had been double charged for my dsl line, I called SBC. It was a horrendous experience trying to get through and get a real answer. The problem was taken care of. The person on the phone convinced me that I was not overcharged. I am not sure how they did this, as I never really did understand the answer, but it did happen again. We are very busy people and don't have time to be "defensive" about the extremely confusing nature of telephone bills, paper or otherwise. Nor should we. Companies who offer services almost all of the American public use should be more simple, more honest, and filled with real answers and people instead of form letters and fifteen minute touch tone responses. I am requesting that my question be answered thoroughly, responsibly, and by a real person. You may keep all of your automated form letters as they are a waste of everyone's time. Thank you, Benjamin Smith and Carissa Byers
then i spoke with my dad online. then i commenced to blog reading. it's not so much that i'm really interested in all the things you guys have to say, it's that i have a lot of work to do and find blogging to be a very rewarding way to procrastinate.
would you believe, that only one hour after the debates, ALL of you had updated and talked about the debates!!! whoa. the collective conscience, eh? so----i won't bore you with my take based on how little i was actually able to watch. i will say i was dissapointed with kerry and dissapointed that i found bush interesting. geez.
i read an article in time magazine about how bush used his power to turn the debate in his favor. the little colored lights at the mic, that they didn't seem to use the entire time, were his idea. he also made the podiums shorter so that he wouldn't look like a midget next to kerry. i hope kerry learned from this round because from my limited viewing time, it really felt like bush was getting more opportunities. ben decided he wanted to move to another planet.
i got my voter registration form out, and registered ben as well. i still don't think i'm certain as to who i should vote for. i mean, this isn't like student council or anything, eh?
curious as to what you all think about the debate, who you're voting for, and why.
after i got penn to bed i grabbed my snack size almond joy (actually, i grabbed three) and wrote this:
sbc: I would like to address my payment amount and billing dates. This is my payment history: Sept. 15--- $65.91, Sept. 7--- $22.48, Aug. 13--- $96.42, July 29--- $71.71, May 29--- $52.34, April 29 ---$52.34, March--- $57.11. As you can see the amounts and the dates are radically different. I have not changed one thing on my bill since I signed on with this company and yet, every month I seem to owe a different amount. I also had two bills in July and September. Once, when I discovered I had been double charged for my dsl line, I called SBC. It was a horrendous experience trying to get through and get a real answer. The problem was taken care of. The person on the phone convinced me that I was not overcharged. I am not sure how they did this, as I never really did understand the answer, but it did happen again. We are very busy people and don't have time to be "defensive" about the extremely confusing nature of telephone bills, paper or otherwise. Nor should we. Companies who offer services almost all of the American public use should be more simple, more honest, and filled with real answers and people instead of form letters and fifteen minute touch tone responses. I am requesting that my question be answered thoroughly, responsibly, and by a real person. You may keep all of your automated form letters as they are a waste of everyone's time. Thank you, Benjamin Smith and Carissa Byers
then i spoke with my dad online. then i commenced to blog reading. it's not so much that i'm really interested in all the things you guys have to say, it's that i have a lot of work to do and find blogging to be a very rewarding way to procrastinate.
would you believe, that only one hour after the debates, ALL of you had updated and talked about the debates!!! whoa. the collective conscience, eh? so----i won't bore you with my take based on how little i was actually able to watch. i will say i was dissapointed with kerry and dissapointed that i found bush interesting. geez.
i read an article in time magazine about how bush used his power to turn the debate in his favor. the little colored lights at the mic, that they didn't seem to use the entire time, were his idea. he also made the podiums shorter so that he wouldn't look like a midget next to kerry. i hope kerry learned from this round because from my limited viewing time, it really felt like bush was getting more opportunities. ben decided he wanted to move to another planet.
i got my voter registration form out, and registered ben as well. i still don't think i'm certain as to who i should vote for. i mean, this isn't like student council or anything, eh?
curious as to what you all think about the debate, who you're voting for, and why.
Sep 29, 2004
angry woman sleeps well
if you venture out among the general public often enough, you will undoubtedly find yourself pissed off for one reason or another. my mind works like a stream of conciousness; obviously. but, outside of the obvious way, like it would on paper if you were writing an essay for comp I, or something. i can take one thing, and through association and thought i will find myself in another dimension. if you've ever had an actual conversation with me, you have perhaps experienced conversative whip lash due to my quick changes of topic.
penn and i ventured among the public today. the grocery store, to be more specific, because we are somehow eternally out of catfood and/or litter and very vanilla soymilk. i forgot the cheese. i always forget one thing. we got to the car and i put the bags in the trunk. then i started the car and turned on the air conditioning. then penn and i took our cart to the cart corral in the middle of the parking lot. we went back to our car and got in. penn is obsessed with playing all over the car before getting into the little plaid carseat and so, when time allows, i allow.
then, a girl comes and gets in her car that is parked in front of us. i noticed my car moved a little and as i thought about it, i realized it moved because her bumper was touching my bumper. well, since i was already a little peeved at this, i commenced my judgment. the girl/woman was very very pretty. and, you might as well have written "expensive" across her forehead. money was seeping out of her tight little pores, from the white convertible mercedes, the prada or whatever sunglasses, the headwrap, the clothes, the purse, the everything. she had the "money" expression. she knew what she looked like and what people thought of her. again, asthetically, she was very cute, but her attitude was seeping right out with the money.
i'm sitting in my 1997 honda civic, banged from here to tim buck too, making out with her shiny convertible and thinking, she'd laugh in my face if i made fuss. still, the principle! i got out with penn, just to make sure she was touching. i figured i'd just give the car a look, and give her a look, and then see what happens. maybe be the forgiving little hippie momma, "oh, that's alright, it's just a car." (i'd do that just because i'm not a fan of confrontation.)
i get out just as she's backing out. she may have backed out a little on purpose as i got out of the car, but she did bend my front license plate, i think. she looked at me like i was rude. i decided it was no big deal and didn't say anything. as i turn around to get back in the car, a woman (note same demeanor as above lady) who has just unloaded her groceries into her big ole suv thing shoves her albertson's cart across the parking lot---no where near the cart corral.
how fucking busy are you, that you can't take the time to put your cart back?! i cannot count the times i have come out with carts all around my little civic. my little civic is like a fucking magnet for grocery store carts, i SWEAR! i even said something to the cart picker uppers once. i know, it's a lousy job, but there were 8 carts swarming my car like bees and the cart picker uppers were SERIOUSLY taking the carts one at a time back to the store. come on.
sometimes, if i'm parked really close, i even take mine back to the store! sometimes i offer it to someone about to go into the store. sometimes i take mine back, and take one back that's in the middle of the parking lot. (alright, i have to wait a while for the car to cool down so that penn doesn't bake in his little plaid carseat, so we've time to kill). point? these people were lazy and rude.
side note: these women were obviously wealthy. and i wonder, does rudeness come with money? i'm just saying, not all, of course, but many rich people i know just so happen to have some complex that goes along with it. something about them that makes you feel as if they think they are better than you. something that makes you feel as if you should feel bad because of your clothes or job or family or whatever. something about their money makes them feel they have bought the right to judge you. it's so silly and awlful and i look at these people, knowing they can't possibly understand the daily joy i experience. they're too busy judging. i haven't done a good job at all at explaining this phenominon. apologies. i am curious, if you understand me that is, if you've experienced or seen this.
this whole grocery store fiasco led me on a built up rant about other things that anger me.
* there is a highschool in dallas that hasn't had a hot lunch in over a week. wanna know why? because their cafeteria FAILED FIVE health inspections. FIVE! omigod. i have worked in resturants. i ran a coffee shop. i have dealt with health inspectors. you have to really screw up to fail. if something is wrong, it is noted and they'll check back in a week when you fix it. the school failed five and were going to have the sixth inspection today. william's chicken (some fast food joint, i assume) brought a boxed chicken lunch with all the fixins' for every student in the school so that they could have a hot lunch. as one parent pointed out, this is, for some of the children, the only hot lunch they get all day. i'm ever so grateful for their donation. they showed them on camera and they were like firemen, going in armed with little red boxes of chicken! sweet. i'm appaled at the school. (by the way, my coffeeshop got a 97)
* another day care closed in dallas. i don't even remember why this one closed. it seems to happen all the time. they showed mothers going to get their children, young babies, and just shaking their heads talking about how afraid they were of daycares and what a risk it was.
i am so lucky penn doesn't have to go to daycare.
* puppy farms! i swear to you every night there are hundreds of animals rescued in texas from the clutches of cruella de dumbasses. it's frightening! not always just innocent puppies, either, sometimes goats and horses and livestock. and always, always there are some that are dead in their cages, being munched on by their brothers and sisters, and some that die just as loving arms reach around to rescue it. and always there is some skanky bottle blonde woman in cut off blue jean shorts yelling, "them's my animals! i takes good care of 'em, ya'll are wrong."
arrggguuhhhh!
people, come on. get it together. stop being stupid.cruel.lazy.bitchy. . .and yes. yes, i am being judgmental right now. that's okay. i'll sleep just fine tonight.
penn and i ventured among the public today. the grocery store, to be more specific, because we are somehow eternally out of catfood and/or litter and very vanilla soymilk. i forgot the cheese. i always forget one thing. we got to the car and i put the bags in the trunk. then i started the car and turned on the air conditioning. then penn and i took our cart to the cart corral in the middle of the parking lot. we went back to our car and got in. penn is obsessed with playing all over the car before getting into the little plaid carseat and so, when time allows, i allow.
then, a girl comes and gets in her car that is parked in front of us. i noticed my car moved a little and as i thought about it, i realized it moved because her bumper was touching my bumper. well, since i was already a little peeved at this, i commenced my judgment. the girl/woman was very very pretty. and, you might as well have written "expensive" across her forehead. money was seeping out of her tight little pores, from the white convertible mercedes, the prada or whatever sunglasses, the headwrap, the clothes, the purse, the everything. she had the "money" expression. she knew what she looked like and what people thought of her. again, asthetically, she was very cute, but her attitude was seeping right out with the money.
i'm sitting in my 1997 honda civic, banged from here to tim buck too, making out with her shiny convertible and thinking, she'd laugh in my face if i made fuss. still, the principle! i got out with penn, just to make sure she was touching. i figured i'd just give the car a look, and give her a look, and then see what happens. maybe be the forgiving little hippie momma, "oh, that's alright, it's just a car." (i'd do that just because i'm not a fan of confrontation.)
i get out just as she's backing out. she may have backed out a little on purpose as i got out of the car, but she did bend my front license plate, i think. she looked at me like i was rude. i decided it was no big deal and didn't say anything. as i turn around to get back in the car, a woman (note same demeanor as above lady) who has just unloaded her groceries into her big ole suv thing shoves her albertson's cart across the parking lot---no where near the cart corral.
how fucking busy are you, that you can't take the time to put your cart back?! i cannot count the times i have come out with carts all around my little civic. my little civic is like a fucking magnet for grocery store carts, i SWEAR! i even said something to the cart picker uppers once. i know, it's a lousy job, but there were 8 carts swarming my car like bees and the cart picker uppers were SERIOUSLY taking the carts one at a time back to the store. come on.
sometimes, if i'm parked really close, i even take mine back to the store! sometimes i offer it to someone about to go into the store. sometimes i take mine back, and take one back that's in the middle of the parking lot. (alright, i have to wait a while for the car to cool down so that penn doesn't bake in his little plaid carseat, so we've time to kill). point? these people were lazy and rude.
side note: these women were obviously wealthy. and i wonder, does rudeness come with money? i'm just saying, not all, of course, but many rich people i know just so happen to have some complex that goes along with it. something about them that makes you feel as if they think they are better than you. something that makes you feel as if you should feel bad because of your clothes or job or family or whatever. something about their money makes them feel they have bought the right to judge you. it's so silly and awlful and i look at these people, knowing they can't possibly understand the daily joy i experience. they're too busy judging. i haven't done a good job at all at explaining this phenominon. apologies. i am curious, if you understand me that is, if you've experienced or seen this.
this whole grocery store fiasco led me on a built up rant about other things that anger me.
* there is a highschool in dallas that hasn't had a hot lunch in over a week. wanna know why? because their cafeteria FAILED FIVE health inspections. FIVE! omigod. i have worked in resturants. i ran a coffee shop. i have dealt with health inspectors. you have to really screw up to fail. if something is wrong, it is noted and they'll check back in a week when you fix it. the school failed five and were going to have the sixth inspection today. william's chicken (some fast food joint, i assume) brought a boxed chicken lunch with all the fixins' for every student in the school so that they could have a hot lunch. as one parent pointed out, this is, for some of the children, the only hot lunch they get all day. i'm ever so grateful for their donation. they showed them on camera and they were like firemen, going in armed with little red boxes of chicken! sweet. i'm appaled at the school. (by the way, my coffeeshop got a 97)
* another day care closed in dallas. i don't even remember why this one closed. it seems to happen all the time. they showed mothers going to get their children, young babies, and just shaking their heads talking about how afraid they were of daycares and what a risk it was.
i am so lucky penn doesn't have to go to daycare.
* puppy farms! i swear to you every night there are hundreds of animals rescued in texas from the clutches of cruella de dumbasses. it's frightening! not always just innocent puppies, either, sometimes goats and horses and livestock. and always, always there are some that are dead in their cages, being munched on by their brothers and sisters, and some that die just as loving arms reach around to rescue it. and always there is some skanky bottle blonde woman in cut off blue jean shorts yelling, "them's my animals! i takes good care of 'em, ya'll are wrong."
arrggguuhhhh!
people, come on. get it together. stop being stupid.cruel.lazy.bitchy. . .and yes. yes, i am being judgmental right now. that's okay. i'll sleep just fine tonight.
Sep 28, 2004
dear mother earth,
i love you. really, i do. i know i don't show it as often as i should. i know that it's awlful i haven't recycled since we've moved. i can't find any recycling igloos close to my apartment and i don't know another way to recycle in dallas. it should be easier to save the world. okay, so maybe that's a cop out. i should try harder.
and, i know i don't always buy the most earth friendly products. i'm on a budget, you know? and the earth friendly stuff i buy is sometimes three times as much as the generic brand. for the record, i do buy recycled toilet paper, even though i found, like, a whole corner of a cardboard box in a role of seventh generation toilet paper.
and, it's really awlful that i don't use cloth diapers. i was weak and got talked out of it by un-earth caring friends/family. and, even more than that, i buy cheap disposable bleached diapers more often then recycled ones. oh, the shame.
for the record: all of my cleaning products are nature-abulous, i never litter, and i even pick up other peoples litter, sometimes.
earth, i try. i really do. but i don't have alot of support over here, you know? and it's hard to do it all on your own. it's hard when nearly everyone i know REALLY BELIEVES that all of these ideals are just a bunch of HIPPIE BULLSHIT and ONE PERSON CAN'T MAKE A DIFFERENCE. the lack of responsibility is really disgusting.
well, screw all the nazi styrofoam using, non-recycling, food wasting, tree hating, public transportation boycotting, chemical laden, littering, pollution infesting morons out there. you know? you know? i can't afford to do it all. more honestly, perhaps i choose not to afford it, but i'll do the best i can.
i just wanted you to know that, earth, that i'm trying, and that i'll try and get others to try too. okay? thanks for listening.
peace,
carissa
and, i know i don't always buy the most earth friendly products. i'm on a budget, you know? and the earth friendly stuff i buy is sometimes three times as much as the generic brand. for the record, i do buy recycled toilet paper, even though i found, like, a whole corner of a cardboard box in a role of seventh generation toilet paper.
and, it's really awlful that i don't use cloth diapers. i was weak and got talked out of it by un-earth caring friends/family. and, even more than that, i buy cheap disposable bleached diapers more often then recycled ones. oh, the shame.
for the record: all of my cleaning products are nature-abulous, i never litter, and i even pick up other peoples litter, sometimes.
earth, i try. i really do. but i don't have alot of support over here, you know? and it's hard to do it all on your own. it's hard when nearly everyone i know REALLY BELIEVES that all of these ideals are just a bunch of HIPPIE BULLSHIT and ONE PERSON CAN'T MAKE A DIFFERENCE. the lack of responsibility is really disgusting.
well, screw all the nazi styrofoam using, non-recycling, food wasting, tree hating, public transportation boycotting, chemical laden, littering, pollution infesting morons out there. you know? you know? i can't afford to do it all. more honestly, perhaps i choose not to afford it, but i'll do the best i can.
i just wanted you to know that, earth, that i'm trying, and that i'll try and get others to try too. okay? thanks for listening.
peace,
carissa
Sep 27, 2004
little girl makes friends with camera
sunday i had another family portrait gig. i met the two cutest children ever. a young girl, 6 ish, i think, and a young boy, 2 1/2, i think. they were the sweetest most photogenic kids ever. i got all the pictures done in an hour and a half and i think they may be my best children's portraits to date. it was the usual. i just let them play and followed them around. nothing posed. i had them sit on the steps, but i don't make them do anything. they played and raced up and down the steps and i caught them in brief moments of stillness. it was an abosolute fabulous time! i just had to post a couple. here are three from the shoot. i'm not done with the boy yet, but i'll post them when i'm done.
dallas neighbor wins ass of the day award
if you know a man by the last name bartel, who lives in uptown dallas, texas, do me a favor. give him a call and call him rude. maybe an ass, even.
penn and i went to target to get a diaper genie refill. (god bless diaper genie's.) when we got back, benji was in the parking lot, having come home to pick up a book. we got out, excited to see daddy and i accidently locked my keys in the car. not a big deal, as ben was home and there was a spare in the apartment.
around 7 o'clock i made pasta and squash and zucchinni for dinner. i decided penn and i would get the keys out of the car and check the mail while the food cooled. (penn is quite impatient when it comes to food, and hates to see hot steamy mouth burning food sitting there when he could be gobbling it up.) we left, armed with the trusty spare key.
our builiding has taken many measures to keep tenants secure. the front door can only be entered with a key or a code. you then have to go through another door to get into the parking lot, for which you need a key. and then there is the parking lot which is gated and can only be opened with a garage door clicker.
as soon as penn and i got through the front door, i realized that i had locked my keys in the car and would not be able to get through that second door. now, here's the kicker. it took our landlord THREE FREAKIN' MONTHS to get our name programmed into the front door box, so that visitors could dial us from the box and we could let them in. when they FINALLY did this, they forgot to tell us how it works, and give us a new passcode, because the managers code we had been using, was no longer valid. by the way, if you dial #075 for Smith, it will NOT ring our phone, no matter what you hear. it's not us.
so, penn and i spend a good deal of time pushing numbers at random in an attempt to guess someone's code. nothing. there are alot of dogs and busy people that live here, and always someone coming and going. but not at 7 o'clock. so, i dialed someone at random. i dialed bartel. bartel sounded friendly enough.
i said: "hey, i know this is a wierd call, but i live in 2** and i've locked myself out. i just dialed you at random to see if you could open the door for me."
bartel said: "i don't know if my phone will open the door. let me try this. really loud obnoxious long ass beep. did that work?"
i said: "nope."
bartel said: "what about your code?"
i said: "they just changed our code yesterday because they just put us in the front door security thing and our old passcode doesn't work and we don't know our new one."
bartel said: hangs around on the phone for a minute. than HANGS UP! yes, i said HANGS UP!
i figure, well, nice understanding neighbor is going to come down and let me in. it's not that big of a place, for christs sake. all the aptartments surround a pool, with the exception of a few, so he could easily have peeked out a window to make sure i wasn't a crack head.
and really, do murderous crackheads go around dialing people on the security box of uptown dallas to get some change?
what i didn't tell bartel was that it was hot. i had a young baby whose dinner was waiting for him on the counter, unprotected from the cats. my baby was tired. hungry. we had been outside for 20 min. now. the mosquito bites on my feet had now fused together into one big swollen lump. i didn't think it was necassary. i waited patiently for bartel, thinking that maybe he had to put clothes on or something. he never came. finally, a cute guy came out to check his mail and i went in then. he gave me a funny look. i probably gave him a funny look. i was trying to see if he was bartel.
mean ole bartel.
so, if you know him. call him up and tell him he's rude. maybe an ass, even.
penn and i went to target to get a diaper genie refill. (god bless diaper genie's.) when we got back, benji was in the parking lot, having come home to pick up a book. we got out, excited to see daddy and i accidently locked my keys in the car. not a big deal, as ben was home and there was a spare in the apartment.
around 7 o'clock i made pasta and squash and zucchinni for dinner. i decided penn and i would get the keys out of the car and check the mail while the food cooled. (penn is quite impatient when it comes to food, and hates to see hot steamy mouth burning food sitting there when he could be gobbling it up.) we left, armed with the trusty spare key.
our builiding has taken many measures to keep tenants secure. the front door can only be entered with a key or a code. you then have to go through another door to get into the parking lot, for which you need a key. and then there is the parking lot which is gated and can only be opened with a garage door clicker.
as soon as penn and i got through the front door, i realized that i had locked my keys in the car and would not be able to get through that second door. now, here's the kicker. it took our landlord THREE FREAKIN' MONTHS to get our name programmed into the front door box, so that visitors could dial us from the box and we could let them in. when they FINALLY did this, they forgot to tell us how it works, and give us a new passcode, because the managers code we had been using, was no longer valid. by the way, if you dial #075 for Smith, it will NOT ring our phone, no matter what you hear. it's not us.
so, penn and i spend a good deal of time pushing numbers at random in an attempt to guess someone's code. nothing. there are alot of dogs and busy people that live here, and always someone coming and going. but not at 7 o'clock. so, i dialed someone at random. i dialed bartel. bartel sounded friendly enough.
i said: "hey, i know this is a wierd call, but i live in 2** and i've locked myself out. i just dialed you at random to see if you could open the door for me."
bartel said: "i don't know if my phone will open the door. let me try this. really loud obnoxious long ass beep. did that work?"
i said: "nope."
bartel said: "what about your code?"
i said: "they just changed our code yesterday because they just put us in the front door security thing and our old passcode doesn't work and we don't know our new one."
bartel said: hangs around on the phone for a minute. than HANGS UP! yes, i said HANGS UP!
i figure, well, nice understanding neighbor is going to come down and let me in. it's not that big of a place, for christs sake. all the aptartments surround a pool, with the exception of a few, so he could easily have peeked out a window to make sure i wasn't a crack head.
and really, do murderous crackheads go around dialing people on the security box of uptown dallas to get some change?
what i didn't tell bartel was that it was hot. i had a young baby whose dinner was waiting for him on the counter, unprotected from the cats. my baby was tired. hungry. we had been outside for 20 min. now. the mosquito bites on my feet had now fused together into one big swollen lump. i didn't think it was necassary. i waited patiently for bartel, thinking that maybe he had to put clothes on or something. he never came. finally, a cute guy came out to check his mail and i went in then. he gave me a funny look. i probably gave him a funny look. i was trying to see if he was bartel.
mean ole bartel.
so, if you know him. call him up and tell him he's rude. maybe an ass, even.
Sep 24, 2004
well hell
pardon my blog, it is having issues so i will not waste my time posting until it is corrected. nhell, i don't even know if this will post or not. hope i don't lose anyone out there!
carissa
carissa
angry blogger lashes out
i just wrote a really long post and it's gone. my blog seriously hates me. anybody else having this problem? is there a blog obedience school i can send it to?
blog gets drunk; forgets plan to screw up
my blog still hates me. i'm gonna get him liquored up and sweet talk him later on tonight and see if he'll behave. the problem has spread itself so that it doesn't even relay the correct amount of comments i have aquired. i'd curse him now, but he's right here and i don't want him to hear me.
i got a haircut today! woo-ha! my friend natty, who used to be my neighbor and cut it for free, works at sweet 200 on elm street, dallas. she's simply amazing! when we couldn't get a date squared away and my hair began consuming my face, i reckoned i'd bite the bullet and pay for a haircut. i have not payed for a haircut in two years! there is always some willing friend, eh? well, natty has been doing mine for free for almost a year now and always refuses payments. i figured, if i went up to her salon, she'd let me pay. nope. natty, you're such a sweetheart! natty first took my long boring hair and made it something very special. i came out of the first cut looking like an anime character. it was beautiful. rock star hair! funky and cool. it was that hair that you see walking down the street and you want it, but you just know you could never pull it off. it's like a high you can never achieve again, because every cut since the first just doesn't give me the same oomph. i dunno. it's not ugly, you know. we'll see what happens when i get out of the shower tomorrow.
at the salon i met a very cool girl who is not a photographer, but thought she wanted to be. she had a number of reasons she is not a photographer (stuggle between art and making money, camera stolen, the woman in her chair, etc., etc.). she saw my photos (because i had taken some of natty and was showing her the prints) and seemed to dig on them the same way i dig on sarah janes. a certain respect for ones art.
she said, "you take pictures the same way i do." weird comment, but i get it. so, she explains that the woman in her chair is a professional commercial photographer with the big bucks and she used to be her assistant. the prof. photographer is apparently good, but a bitch and some other things that i seem to have forgotten. this girl is absolutley captivating and natty said, "you should let carissa take pictures of you." the girl was very excited at the idea, which i find complimentary, so . . .i get a cute new model who----is getting married and wants a "cool" photographer for the wedding. yippee!
my friend mary asked if i'd donate a picture for an auction to help raise money for a scholarship in memory of her cousin. you bet!
tomorrow i have a family to shoot and i need to go get all the goodies together.
more interesting posts on the way, i promise. our wireless internet connection is on the fritz so i'm all tied down in the studio and can't think straight in here. hell, i don't even know if all this will post. hah.
peace, y'all.
i got a haircut today! woo-ha! my friend natty, who used to be my neighbor and cut it for free, works at sweet 200 on elm street, dallas. she's simply amazing! when we couldn't get a date squared away and my hair began consuming my face, i reckoned i'd bite the bullet and pay for a haircut. i have not payed for a haircut in two years! there is always some willing friend, eh? well, natty has been doing mine for free for almost a year now and always refuses payments. i figured, if i went up to her salon, she'd let me pay. nope. natty, you're such a sweetheart! natty first took my long boring hair and made it something very special. i came out of the first cut looking like an anime character. it was beautiful. rock star hair! funky and cool. it was that hair that you see walking down the street and you want it, but you just know you could never pull it off. it's like a high you can never achieve again, because every cut since the first just doesn't give me the same oomph. i dunno. it's not ugly, you know. we'll see what happens when i get out of the shower tomorrow.
at the salon i met a very cool girl who is not a photographer, but thought she wanted to be. she had a number of reasons she is not a photographer (stuggle between art and making money, camera stolen, the woman in her chair, etc., etc.). she saw my photos (because i had taken some of natty and was showing her the prints) and seemed to dig on them the same way i dig on sarah janes. a certain respect for ones art.
she said, "you take pictures the same way i do." weird comment, but i get it. so, she explains that the woman in her chair is a professional commercial photographer with the big bucks and she used to be her assistant. the prof. photographer is apparently good, but a bitch and some other things that i seem to have forgotten. this girl is absolutley captivating and natty said, "you should let carissa take pictures of you." the girl was very excited at the idea, which i find complimentary, so . . .i get a cute new model who----is getting married and wants a "cool" photographer for the wedding. yippee!
my friend mary asked if i'd donate a picture for an auction to help raise money for a scholarship in memory of her cousin. you bet!
tomorrow i have a family to shoot and i need to go get all the goodies together.
more interesting posts on the way, i promise. our wireless internet connection is on the fritz so i'm all tied down in the studio and can't think straight in here. hell, i don't even know if all this will post. hah.
peace, y'all.
conspiracy and cat food
my blog is conspiring against me. my links don't work in the last post, and whenever i go to my page i see a post from a long time ago and the last post is marked as a draft. *sigh* ah well. i'll try to find the links and re-put them in. also, i can't get hello to post a friggin picture.
on the homefront: penn just fell asleep in my arms. the occasion doesn't come up for this to happen very often, so it was cute.
in other news: albertson's has catfood, buy one get two free.
on the homefront: penn just fell asleep in my arms. the occasion doesn't come up for this to happen very often, so it was cute.
in other news: albertson's has catfood, buy one get two free.
Sep 23, 2004
hate and love
the word "hate" is a strong word. i try hard to be impeccable with my word, saying only what i mean and finding strength to correct myself, should i be wrong. "love" and "hate" are words i feel should be sacred to that which they really imply.
i watched oprah's show today about the russian terrorist attack and feel like i've saved that one hideous word and everything it means for this one hideous event in our world.
here goes: i hate the people who chose, for their ideals, to take a school, a town, hostage. i hate the mother fuckers who made parents choose which of their children will live and which one will have it's gut cut out for someone's political ideals. i hate the monsters who kept people and children without water in a place so hot they had to take their clothes off to keep from passing out. i hate the animals who killed people and taped it! and made children clean up their assasinated peers blood off of the floor. i hate the sons of bitches who bombed a school, a place where children are supposed to learn how to get along with one another and are supposed to study the primative history of war----not actively be part of it. what is most sacred? what is most important, if not our children? what?!! nothing. absolutley nothing.
can you imagine, can you really imagine what it would be like to be forced to choose, with death all around you, which of your two beloved children would get to live that day, and which one would die at the hands of strangers? and can you imagine how you would tell that one child they would have to stay with the murderers while you took their sibling to safety? (click the link "choose" to read how one mother did this.)
323 hostages died because of these monsters, 156 of which were children. 700 were wounded. 26 hostage takers died. most died when a bomb exploded in the gymnasium. others were shot in the back as they tried to flee the gym.
i'm so disgusted. so sick. so sad. . .
and so grateful for the wealth of life that i have. i'm grateful i have a perspective of the world that allows me to understand how fortunate i am, how very fortunate i am to not have to face this kind of terror face to face.
one of the women on the show said, "you can stand in the middle of Beslan and hear crying coming from every direction."
understand that the absolute shittiest day to day stuff we sit around moping about can never compare to the agony these people have suffered. we have to look at the world. we have to see ourself as a global community. this tragedy effects all of us. it doesn't matter that it was in russia, for god sakes. it doesn't matter that you don't know any russians, or you don't speak the language, or you've never been there, it matters because it happened.
there are so many events like this and i feel the same about all of them and i feel the same sickening hatred for all of the monsters who caused it. this just happens to be the one i'm writing about today.
it scares me, the world that my son penn is growing up in. i'm scared of video games in which you "win" by killing the most people. i'm afraid of movies and of television. i'm afraid of monsters. and yet, i can't hide it from him. i can't pretend it's not there. and i can't be there every minute to explain to my son all the evils he will witness. i can't pretend it doesn't exist because i need my son to be able to survive in this world with integrity and kindness and peace. i need him to be able to function and be someone who does good and who is happy, despite all of the wretchedness and saddness out there.
there's a lot of goodness out there, you know. go be part of it. i am.
i'm going to hug my baby now and kiss him all over and tell him how very much i love him. and he won't understand and he'll think mommy's just being silly again, and he'll probably laugh and smile and reach his tiny little hands up for me to help him walk somewhere and he'll go to sleep in a nice clean warm bed with a full belly and a sweet kitty beside him. and he won't understand why i love him, or why i keep telling him i love him. and when he gets older he probably won't know what a blog was or why mommy sat here at a computer and wrote and cried because she was so lucky to have him.
note: on this link http://www.cnn.com/2004/WORLD/europe/09/15/russia.choice/index.html ,at the right of the page, is a gallery of images from the attack.
i watched oprah's show today about the russian terrorist attack and feel like i've saved that one hideous word and everything it means for this one hideous event in our world.
here goes: i hate the people who chose, for their ideals, to take a school, a town, hostage. i hate the mother fuckers who made parents choose which of their children will live and which one will have it's gut cut out for someone's political ideals. i hate the monsters who kept people and children without water in a place so hot they had to take their clothes off to keep from passing out. i hate the animals who killed people and taped it! and made children clean up their assasinated peers blood off of the floor. i hate the sons of bitches who bombed a school, a place where children are supposed to learn how to get along with one another and are supposed to study the primative history of war----not actively be part of it. what is most sacred? what is most important, if not our children? what?!! nothing. absolutley nothing.
can you imagine, can you really imagine what it would be like to be forced to choose, with death all around you, which of your two beloved children would get to live that day, and which one would die at the hands of strangers? and can you imagine how you would tell that one child they would have to stay with the murderers while you took their sibling to safety? (click the link "choose" to read how one mother did this.)
323 hostages died because of these monsters, 156 of which were children. 700 were wounded. 26 hostage takers died. most died when a bomb exploded in the gymnasium. others were shot in the back as they tried to flee the gym.
i'm so disgusted. so sick. so sad. . .
and so grateful for the wealth of life that i have. i'm grateful i have a perspective of the world that allows me to understand how fortunate i am, how very fortunate i am to not have to face this kind of terror face to face.
one of the women on the show said, "you can stand in the middle of Beslan and hear crying coming from every direction."
understand that the absolute shittiest day to day stuff we sit around moping about can never compare to the agony these people have suffered. we have to look at the world. we have to see ourself as a global community. this tragedy effects all of us. it doesn't matter that it was in russia, for god sakes. it doesn't matter that you don't know any russians, or you don't speak the language, or you've never been there, it matters because it happened.
there are so many events like this and i feel the same about all of them and i feel the same sickening hatred for all of the monsters who caused it. this just happens to be the one i'm writing about today.
it scares me, the world that my son penn is growing up in. i'm scared of video games in which you "win" by killing the most people. i'm afraid of movies and of television. i'm afraid of monsters. and yet, i can't hide it from him. i can't pretend it's not there. and i can't be there every minute to explain to my son all the evils he will witness. i can't pretend it doesn't exist because i need my son to be able to survive in this world with integrity and kindness and peace. i need him to be able to function and be someone who does good and who is happy, despite all of the wretchedness and saddness out there.
there's a lot of goodness out there, you know. go be part of it. i am.
i'm going to hug my baby now and kiss him all over and tell him how very much i love him. and he won't understand and he'll think mommy's just being silly again, and he'll probably laugh and smile and reach his tiny little hands up for me to help him walk somewhere and he'll go to sleep in a nice clean warm bed with a full belly and a sweet kitty beside him. and he won't understand why i love him, or why i keep telling him i love him. and when he gets older he probably won't know what a blog was or why mommy sat here at a computer and wrote and cried because she was so lucky to have him.
note: on this link http://www.cnn.com/2004/WORLD/europe/09/15/russia.choice/index.html ,at the right of the page, is a gallery of images from the attack.
Sep 22, 2004
visual aide
here is the fabulous ludwell, referred to in the following post. isn't he gorgeous! i promise, luddy, i'll get your hat and cd to you soon!
ye olde blogge stinks
ahhh, the first taste of fall. can you feel the cool weather coming? mmmm. i do love me a good hat and scarf. (perhaps i just need a good excuse to to crochet)
good things today: benji's car got fixed!!! yeah. for only $500 smack-a-roos. i highly recommend all in dallas to go to pat's tires on live oak for all of your auto needs, including the little things like tires and oil changes. the guy who owns it's name is steven and he's a straight up, honest, good ole boy. he fixed my tire for free once, gave me a free estimate on how much it will cost to get my car to stop sounding like a golf cart, and free advice on how to fix my window. i really really like him, and more than that, i trust him. hard to find a trustworthy mechanic for a little chica like myself.
i had lunch with my favorite ludwell. he's simply stupendous and because of him i have two more potential clients! very exciting. a woman, five months pregnant whom i would really love to photograph, and another woman with a beautiful hispanic family. yum!
i'm busy with two gigs this week and am now following up on leads from those interested in displaying my work. also, very exciting!
xmas is coming soon and it looks like there will be some family's seeking xmas photos. i'll have to hold myself back from putting kids in santa hats by the fireplace, ha-hah. we have a fireplace now, so maybe i can get all that cheese outta me with penn.
here is the website, still under construction, for innersoul records and artists angie fisher and ter'ell shahid. benji did the video "flavorhood" which is a duet by the two and my pictures are on their album covers!!! i'll let you know more as it all comes about.
i tell you all of this ho-de-hum because i have much to do tonight and no time to really think anything out for ye olde blogge. more to come tomorrow, perhaps.
peace all-----carissa
good things today: benji's car got fixed!!! yeah. for only $500 smack-a-roos. i highly recommend all in dallas to go to pat's tires on live oak for all of your auto needs, including the little things like tires and oil changes. the guy who owns it's name is steven and he's a straight up, honest, good ole boy. he fixed my tire for free once, gave me a free estimate on how much it will cost to get my car to stop sounding like a golf cart, and free advice on how to fix my window. i really really like him, and more than that, i trust him. hard to find a trustworthy mechanic for a little chica like myself.
i had lunch with my favorite ludwell. he's simply stupendous and because of him i have two more potential clients! very exciting. a woman, five months pregnant whom i would really love to photograph, and another woman with a beautiful hispanic family. yum!
i'm busy with two gigs this week and am now following up on leads from those interested in displaying my work. also, very exciting!
xmas is coming soon and it looks like there will be some family's seeking xmas photos. i'll have to hold myself back from putting kids in santa hats by the fireplace, ha-hah. we have a fireplace now, so maybe i can get all that cheese outta me with penn.
here is the website, still under construction, for innersoul records and artists angie fisher and ter'ell shahid. benji did the video "flavorhood" which is a duet by the two and my pictures are on their album covers!!! i'll let you know more as it all comes about.
i tell you all of this ho-de-hum because i have much to do tonight and no time to really think anything out for ye olde blogge. more to come tomorrow, perhaps.
peace all-----carissa
bathtub fills with greased midgets; neighbor says, "what tha . .?"
i don't know my neighbors. i find it's more fun to speculate who they are based on our brief, but polite encounters.
balding guy with pug: lives upstairs in corner. very odd man. has big blue sort of sad or lonely eyes set in a youngish face that seems to fall off of his neck. drives a nice silver car. dresses in a suit for work. comes home in the day occassionaly, so he must have some freedom at his job. could be an accountant or a paralegal. has a fat ugly pug. holds his head down and doesn't do well with eye contact. probably doesn't like his mother much anymore, but visits or calls her often out of guilt/obligation. shops at target.
cool english couple: she's tall, blonde, athletic build, but probably feels she should lose some weight. he's tall, thin, indian, perfect. she drives an suv, he drives a black mercedes, i think. they shop at whole foods. they're always busy---going to the gym, going out, having their cool friends over, laughing, very friendly. i don't know what they do, but must be a good job due to their banana republic wardrobe, nice cars, and they live on the third floor with the vaulted ceilings, which i think costs more. they probably sit around drinking organic tea and reading the ny times on their balcony.
larger girl in bikini who has somehow gotten into the pool, even though the gate is mysteriously locked: she reads mass market paperback books, and occasionally something that looks work or school related. she wears sunglasses and has blonde hair. i'm not too interested in her, but i'd like to know how the hell she got into the pool today.
downstairs lesbian couple: very cool. often sit in hot tub after working out in their shorts and t shirts. the first people to say hello to us and called the complex "very mellow." they repeated the word "mellow" all the way out the gate.
very pretty go get 'em girl: short hair, exotic face, pear shaped body clad in tailored suits. she sits around on the steps and talks on her cordless phone. she's beautiful, and scares me a bit. she's that man eating boss of some humongo company with lots of assistants.
there are several i could go on about, but this is starting to get boring, so i'll get to the punch. the most important neighbor i've had to speculate about, is the person living in apt. 304, directly above us.
i pictured an old fat woman in a moo moo who never leaves the house. i have never seen the person who lives up there. but i have HEARD them. they are LOUD. not in a party all night with your music kinda loud, but they sound as if they weigh 500 pounds, easy. they are obsessed with water. they take a bath at least six times a day. at LEAST. when they water their plants they water my balcony. i mean, really drown it. the wasted water falls down to the ground and literally makes a small river down the parking lot. it's awlful! same happens out front, too. you can imagine how i feel when i can't sit on my balcony just because somebody wants to drown their plants twice a day. tonight, penn had difficulty falling asleep because upstairs neighbor was throwing greased midgets into the bathtub. at least, that's what it sounded like. they were scrambling everywhere and upstairs neighbor was hearding them with the dog, who i had not heard until tonight.
i have mentioned the water to the landlord. (look, i'm not being that picky here, you'd have to see it to believe it. my dad who was visiting thought it was raining. we had to go outside to make sure!) and it kept happening. not the end of the world, so i just stewed quietly in my own little head.
the other day i had had it. the water came a pourin' and i leaned back over my balcony and looked up, "excuse me!" i said. "excuse me, you with the water!" a MAN leaned over. skinny, black hair, dorky, glasses . .. and he says rather flamboyantly, "oh, i'm sorry!" he looks around at my balcony, "oh, i didn't know!" he looks back at me, "oh, i'm so embaressed," and hurry's back into his apt.! that was it. i don't know his name or anything. i still haven't seen him, ha ha!
i'm devising a plan now to catch me a greased midget.
balding guy with pug: lives upstairs in corner. very odd man. has big blue sort of sad or lonely eyes set in a youngish face that seems to fall off of his neck. drives a nice silver car. dresses in a suit for work. comes home in the day occassionaly, so he must have some freedom at his job. could be an accountant or a paralegal. has a fat ugly pug. holds his head down and doesn't do well with eye contact. probably doesn't like his mother much anymore, but visits or calls her often out of guilt/obligation. shops at target.
cool english couple: she's tall, blonde, athletic build, but probably feels she should lose some weight. he's tall, thin, indian, perfect. she drives an suv, he drives a black mercedes, i think. they shop at whole foods. they're always busy---going to the gym, going out, having their cool friends over, laughing, very friendly. i don't know what they do, but must be a good job due to their banana republic wardrobe, nice cars, and they live on the third floor with the vaulted ceilings, which i think costs more. they probably sit around drinking organic tea and reading the ny times on their balcony.
larger girl in bikini who has somehow gotten into the pool, even though the gate is mysteriously locked: she reads mass market paperback books, and occasionally something that looks work or school related. she wears sunglasses and has blonde hair. i'm not too interested in her, but i'd like to know how the hell she got into the pool today.
downstairs lesbian couple: very cool. often sit in hot tub after working out in their shorts and t shirts. the first people to say hello to us and called the complex "very mellow." they repeated the word "mellow" all the way out the gate.
very pretty go get 'em girl: short hair, exotic face, pear shaped body clad in tailored suits. she sits around on the steps and talks on her cordless phone. she's beautiful, and scares me a bit. she's that man eating boss of some humongo company with lots of assistants.
there are several i could go on about, but this is starting to get boring, so i'll get to the punch. the most important neighbor i've had to speculate about, is the person living in apt. 304, directly above us.
i pictured an old fat woman in a moo moo who never leaves the house. i have never seen the person who lives up there. but i have HEARD them. they are LOUD. not in a party all night with your music kinda loud, but they sound as if they weigh 500 pounds, easy. they are obsessed with water. they take a bath at least six times a day. at LEAST. when they water their plants they water my balcony. i mean, really drown it. the wasted water falls down to the ground and literally makes a small river down the parking lot. it's awlful! same happens out front, too. you can imagine how i feel when i can't sit on my balcony just because somebody wants to drown their plants twice a day. tonight, penn had difficulty falling asleep because upstairs neighbor was throwing greased midgets into the bathtub. at least, that's what it sounded like. they were scrambling everywhere and upstairs neighbor was hearding them with the dog, who i had not heard until tonight.
i have mentioned the water to the landlord. (look, i'm not being that picky here, you'd have to see it to believe it. my dad who was visiting thought it was raining. we had to go outside to make sure!) and it kept happening. not the end of the world, so i just stewed quietly in my own little head.
the other day i had had it. the water came a pourin' and i leaned back over my balcony and looked up, "excuse me!" i said. "excuse me, you with the water!" a MAN leaned over. skinny, black hair, dorky, glasses . .. and he says rather flamboyantly, "oh, i'm sorry!" he looks around at my balcony, "oh, i didn't know!" he looks back at me, "oh, i'm so embaressed," and hurry's back into his apt.! that was it. i don't know his name or anything. i still haven't seen him, ha ha!
i'm devising a plan now to catch me a greased midget.
Sep 21, 2004
visual aide
visual aide: my mary
i took a lot of pictures of her one day and for some reason, hah, this is my favorite one. we're pretty sure i could sell it to bitch magazine.
Sep 20, 2004
movie brings living to life
i went out, for the first time since i've had penn, and watched "garden state." i felt like i was on a date. my mary picked me up, all dressed up, cute and smelling nice. she scored free passes from work and let me use one. we went to starbucks to get drinkage (iced soy hazelnut latte) for me to sneak in the theatre. there were about six people in the 10 p.m. showing, including mary and myself.
garden state successfully makes you feel really really alive, makes you feel like you want to climb up on a big old piece of machinery wearing a garbage bag in the rain in the great big middle of no where and scream your ass off, makes you want to love someone, makes you want to be loved, makes you happy. very very happy. it is quiet and poetic and strong and fierce. it poses theories about your home that you'll still be thinking about two scenes later. it is a simple story filled with complicated details. it gives you just enough information about each character for you to imagine their backstory. you know these people. i swear, i've partied at this house. i've met that guy. i'm part of her. i've dated part of him. i've pitied them. you know? you know? the majority of us understand what it feels like to go off and do something, and then come back "home" to find that no one understands it/you and you decide it's just easier to play along with the idea they have in their head then spend the rest of your xmas vacation trying to explain to them a reality they're sure couldn't possibly belong to you, or anyone they know in person, for that matter. the soundtrack is perfect. it is absolutley perfect. it is really really, really really perfect.
i walked out of "garden state" and felt whole and excited to be that way. having a baby will question your wholeness and will sometimes not even allow you the time or energy to bother with its importance. i will repeat, i have spent every waking minute (save 8 hours total---not all at once) of the past 9 months, 3 weeks, and 3 days with my beloved penn. this was my night out, and i couldn't have been more excited.
after the movie mary and i went to a little bar in texas (new amsterdam). we sat in a round corner booth beneath the lovely colored lamps and had pear cider and irish coffee. we smoked like we were young and cool and didn't care about lung cancer and wrinkles. we talked and talked and talked----politics, shoes, passion, boys . . . we drove around with the windows down. we got hit on at the red light. we drove to a gas station in lakewood for chips and more ciggarettes. we decided to call ciggarrettes "squares." and we decided to do this at least once a week. and next time, i'm gonna dress up too. *silly grin*
thank you mary, for taking me on a much needed night out. thank you zach braff for making this movie and being so goddamned cute. thank you penn, for not waking up and annoying dad while i was gone and for being so goddamned cute. thank you bartender for making the perfect drink. thank you squares for making my throat sore the next morning because i loved you as if i were young and cool and didn't care about lung cancer or wrinkles.
good night to you all, and to all a good night.
garden state successfully makes you feel really really alive, makes you feel like you want to climb up on a big old piece of machinery wearing a garbage bag in the rain in the great big middle of no where and scream your ass off, makes you want to love someone, makes you want to be loved, makes you happy. very very happy. it is quiet and poetic and strong and fierce. it poses theories about your home that you'll still be thinking about two scenes later. it is a simple story filled with complicated details. it gives you just enough information about each character for you to imagine their backstory. you know these people. i swear, i've partied at this house. i've met that guy. i'm part of her. i've dated part of him. i've pitied them. you know? you know? the majority of us understand what it feels like to go off and do something, and then come back "home" to find that no one understands it/you and you decide it's just easier to play along with the idea they have in their head then spend the rest of your xmas vacation trying to explain to them a reality they're sure couldn't possibly belong to you, or anyone they know in person, for that matter. the soundtrack is perfect. it is absolutley perfect. it is really really, really really perfect.
i walked out of "garden state" and felt whole and excited to be that way. having a baby will question your wholeness and will sometimes not even allow you the time or energy to bother with its importance. i will repeat, i have spent every waking minute (save 8 hours total---not all at once) of the past 9 months, 3 weeks, and 3 days with my beloved penn. this was my night out, and i couldn't have been more excited.
after the movie mary and i went to a little bar in texas (new amsterdam). we sat in a round corner booth beneath the lovely colored lamps and had pear cider and irish coffee. we smoked like we were young and cool and didn't care about lung cancer and wrinkles. we talked and talked and talked----politics, shoes, passion, boys . . . we drove around with the windows down. we got hit on at the red light. we drove to a gas station in lakewood for chips and more ciggarettes. we decided to call ciggarrettes "squares." and we decided to do this at least once a week. and next time, i'm gonna dress up too. *silly grin*
thank you mary, for taking me on a much needed night out. thank you zach braff for making this movie and being so goddamned cute. thank you penn, for not waking up and annoying dad while i was gone and for being so goddamned cute. thank you bartender for making the perfect drink. thank you squares for making my throat sore the next morning because i loved you as if i were young and cool and didn't care about lung cancer or wrinkles.
good night to you all, and to all a good night.
"thinkspot" exists in minds of millions
great big fat thanks to everyone who virtually share my thinkspot. i've so enjoyed the e-mails and comments and shout outs. makes one feel special, in an odd sort of way, to put something out there, for whatever reason one starts a blog, and to have it read. i explain why i started my blog in the first post back in august: "balcony gets too small; thoughts find new home." i'm curious as to why others decided they needed to join the wonderful world of blogging. it's a whole culture now, yes? (don't be shy to comment your reasons why)
the "y Journal" comments/asks:
you can visit her page as she goes on to explain how we are all becoming interaction-retarded. the "y Journal" also says:
wow. thank you! don't mind even a little bit.
peace, my brothas.
the "y Journal" comments/asks:
its amazing how many people find relief in this - in writing down their thoughts. doesn't that mean that none of us have that person that we are so comfortable with that we can share all of the things that we put in our blog? is it loneliness that pushes you toward this hobby? i mean there are all kinds of blogs out there: the social blog (for friends to read, catch up on your life without actually talkin to ya) the 'opinionated' blog (vent your ideas on hot issues) and then personal blogs (you pour your heart out, unveil your uttermost secrets, just to see them written down)... and there maybe be more. but just looking at these three, what is it that they all have in common? they bypass the interaction! it builds a higher fence around you, and helps you live with only yourself more comfortably.
you can visit her page as she goes on to explain how we are all becoming interaction-retarded. the "y Journal" also says:
uuh, but before i go, i just wanna say that i'm so excited i finally (re)found thinkspot! Carissa, if you are reading this, i hope this doesn't freak you out!! haha, i know it sounds a bit stalkerish but no! your blog was one of the first blogs that i found once i started prancing around blogger and i enjoyed the simplicity, the calmness, the... lack of preconceptions, fakeness and so on. and the pictures!! and your cute little son! so i hope you don't mind if i'll just say hi once in a while! :)
wow. thank you! don't mind even a little bit.
peace, my brothas.
Sep 19, 2004
a short essay on family day
i don't have time today for a "real" post because i'm going to see "garden state" tonight. so i'll give you a short photo essay of yesterday. we went and ate at tom tom noodle house for lunch, then went to the chocolate shop where i got two truffles (that ended up melting in the car) and the nice lady gave penn a stuffed linx that he always covets when we go in. then we went to see the puppies and kittens for adoption at that very cool, overpriced furniture store in the corner of the west village. there we met a cool photographer couple and their new kitty who's name will not be sheba. then we went to a trade show where my new client is showing his cabinets. it was a good day.
mtv, source of rage then joy
i never had mtv. i heard a rumor that the big baptist church in the tiny town i lived in convinced god that all that there hip gyrating was evil and s/he tossed down a lightning bolt and banned it from the impressionable southeast arkansas eyeballs. we couldn't afford cable anyway. all my extracurricular dance, gymnastics, piano, cheerleading (yes, i was a cheerleader----shut up, i was good!), traveling and fender bendering created a nice pet in my dad's wallet we fondly referred to as "money pit."
in my early jr. high years my dad and i moved from the country into town and enjoyed occasional cable. at fifteen i secretly watched "sesame street" and nickelodeon because i had never seen it before. i watched it sitting in the living room in front of one of those big box tv's from the late seventies/early eighties, i think, with two knobs; vhf and uhf. now, for the first time in many years, i have cable again. granted, it's free cable (trial offer) and for some reason it still has a shitty reception, but it is, indeed cable.
not only do i have cable, but i have this big ass mutha flat screen tv to display the precious nonsense. i don't really even watch the big ass mutha flat screen tv. it's just on to block any mind stimulating thoughts i might suffer. i can't stand the silence. sad, really, eh? it doesn't even seem that big anymore. benji and i are in debate as to whether that's good or bad.
channel 5: nbc. channel 99: discovery. channel 29: mtv. the only three channels i know. i watch mtv now with the same guilty pleasure i experienced with "sesame street" and nickelodoan. i watch mtv and i ask what is apparently an outdated question: ummmm, hello, where's the music?
i have a confession to make. i have seen the "ashlee simpson show." even more embaressing, i liked it. what's happening to me? i need to repent. i thought watching "jackass" would be punishment enough. nope. mildly amusing. oh, the shame! this morning penn and i watched the end of britney spear's: live from miami concert. the worst part? i was sad we missed the beginning! alright, i could absolutley care less about britney spears so-called music. but her choreography and stage production are pretty awesome, fo-real, yo. i need help.
just as get down on my knees . . . . .and search for something to knock myself out with, i see a commercial for mtv's "boiling point." a hidden camera show where they put people in random annoying situations. in the bottom left hand corner of the screen is a red ticker that counts down to the "boiling point" of anger. if the victim makes it, they win one hundred smack-a-roos. i could swear i know the person in the promo. so, karma save me, that concussion will just have to wait. i have to stay tuned.
score! my old friend and actress ashley atkinson walks into a pizza parlor! they give her the wrong change and won't give her a slice of pizza or something. she paces the counter, points at her money, and says "this is only eight dollars" a couple of times and "this is not right." she was sooo cute and made it to the end of her ticker. they tell her she's on mtv's "boiling point" and she looks up at the hidden camera, does the celebratory air punch, and jumps around the pizza joint saying, "fucking sa-weeett!" i love ashley. she's so cool.
the moral of the story: the guilt is worth it if you get to see your friends on tv.
in my early jr. high years my dad and i moved from the country into town and enjoyed occasional cable. at fifteen i secretly watched "sesame street" and nickelodeon because i had never seen it before. i watched it sitting in the living room in front of one of those big box tv's from the late seventies/early eighties, i think, with two knobs; vhf and uhf. now, for the first time in many years, i have cable again. granted, it's free cable (trial offer) and for some reason it still has a shitty reception, but it is, indeed cable.
not only do i have cable, but i have this big ass mutha flat screen tv to display the precious nonsense. i don't really even watch the big ass mutha flat screen tv. it's just on to block any mind stimulating thoughts i might suffer. i can't stand the silence. sad, really, eh? it doesn't even seem that big anymore. benji and i are in debate as to whether that's good or bad.
channel 5: nbc. channel 99: discovery. channel 29: mtv. the only three channels i know. i watch mtv now with the same guilty pleasure i experienced with "sesame street" and nickelodoan. i watch mtv and i ask what is apparently an outdated question: ummmm, hello, where's the music?
i have a confession to make. i have seen the "ashlee simpson show." even more embaressing, i liked it. what's happening to me? i need to repent. i thought watching "jackass" would be punishment enough. nope. mildly amusing. oh, the shame! this morning penn and i watched the end of britney spear's: live from miami concert. the worst part? i was sad we missed the beginning! alright, i could absolutley care less about britney spears so-called music. but her choreography and stage production are pretty awesome, fo-real, yo. i need help.
just as get down on my knees . . . . .and search for something to knock myself out with, i see a commercial for mtv's "boiling point." a hidden camera show where they put people in random annoying situations. in the bottom left hand corner of the screen is a red ticker that counts down to the "boiling point" of anger. if the victim makes it, they win one hundred smack-a-roos. i could swear i know the person in the promo. so, karma save me, that concussion will just have to wait. i have to stay tuned.
score! my old friend and actress ashley atkinson walks into a pizza parlor! they give her the wrong change and won't give her a slice of pizza or something. she paces the counter, points at her money, and says "this is only eight dollars" a couple of times and "this is not right." she was sooo cute and made it to the end of her ticker. they tell her she's on mtv's "boiling point" and she looks up at the hidden camera, does the celebratory air punch, and jumps around the pizza joint saying, "fucking sa-weeett!" i love ashley. she's so cool.
the moral of the story: the guilt is worth it if you get to see your friends on tv.
I HATE YOU COMPUTER!
i hate you computer. i hate you i hate you i hate you. i just wrote the most brilliant thing ever. EVER. and the computer ate it. fucking ate it. shut itself down for no reason at all. no warning. nothing. i hate you computer. it was genius, i tell you. genius. and now, i've no way to prove it. you will never believe me. and i don't blame you. when will i ever learn?
Sep 18, 2004
me and the apple tree
it's 2 in the a.m. and too late/early for me to really write something. so, i'll leave you with a song i wrote. stop in some day and i'll serenade you!
me and the apple tree
once upon a time when
i was a little girl i
used to climb a tree
in my back yard
i'd get as far as i could go
i'd look as far as i could see
and i'd swear to you
that i could find forever
now i know i'm all grown up
and back yards are just a myth
and forever's just a concept in my head
like, god and rain and newspapers
and good and bad and love
when you told me forever
you meant right now
but not for good
not for god or rain or newspapers
or idealism and dreams
or concepts about humanity and peace
not for anything i just told you
i just might could believe
because anything is possible
when you're young
and when you need
well it's never forever
but it's always for good
it's always the forest
because of trees
it is always what we say it is
because we can't escape our heads
and i swear to you
that all i am is me
me and the apple tree
once upon a time when
i was a little girl i
used to climb a tree
in my back yard
i'd get as far as i could go
i'd look as far as i could see
and i'd swear to you
that i could find forever
now i know i'm all grown up
and back yards are just a myth
and forever's just a concept in my head
like, god and rain and newspapers
and good and bad and love
when you told me forever
you meant right now
but not for good
not for god or rain or newspapers
or idealism and dreams
or concepts about humanity and peace
not for anything i just told you
i just might could believe
because anything is possible
when you're young
and when you need
well it's never forever
but it's always for good
it's always the forest
because of trees
it is always what we say it is
because we can't escape our heads
and i swear to you
that all i am is me
Sep 17, 2004
IDENTIFY YOURSELF!
who are you and how did you get to this corner of the internet?
(just curious who's out there reading.)
thanks for commenting,
carissa
(just curious who's out there reading.)
thanks for commenting,
carissa
Sep 16, 2004
level committee desegregates conversations
last night ben and i were talking on the balcony about "the blog." i told him i had originally wanted to discuss all of the level 7 stuff. you see, when ben and i first started dating we had things called "couch conversations" (hours and hours of stimulating talk) that were all "level 7 conversations" (meaning of life stuff). i thought the blog would be a good outlet for me to get in writing how i feel about the important things.
at one point, ben had explained each level of conversation, up to level 7. i can't remember it exactly, but it was something like this:
level 1: the stuff you talk about with retail cashiers. not even conversation, really. just words that help you get away from the cashier:
example: "hi how are you?" "good." "that'll be $12.57. credit or debit?" "debit." "please slide your card. would you like cash back?" "no." "here's your reciept." "thank you." "have a nice day." "you too."
level 2: weather talk with people standing in line at the cashier.
example: "is it hot in here?" "yes it is. and this line is taking forever." "i think he's new." "he's cute though." "yes, and very polite." "look though, he has something on his chin." "looks like chocolate." "mmm, chocolate. will you hold my place in line while i get a candybar?" "sure." "thanks! be right back."
level 3: superficial girlie talk on the phone while you're painting your toe nails.
example: "so, there was this really cute cashier guy i met today." "really? what's his name?" "ted." "ted? that's not a good name." "why?" "i don't know. just doesn't sound good." "i gave him my number." "why?" "because he was cute. and he forgot to ring up my candy bar." "why'd you get a candy bar? i thought you were on a diet." "that doesn't start until tomorrow." "so what are you doing now?" "painting my toe nails." "what color?" "green." "green? why green?" "hold on, someone's beeping in."
level 4: purposeful talk that doesn't really mean anything. like work stuff.
example: "hey ted, i know you're new here, but i noticed the line is moving rather slow." "i can try to go faster, but i may have to scrimp on the politeness." "just do the best you can." "okay."
level 5: purposeful talk that does mean something.
example: "wanna have lunch together, ted?" "sure." "sorry i'm so slow. i'm a little distracted. i met a girl today." "really? what's she like." "a little pudgy, but cute and polite." "when's the last time you had a girlfriend?" "oh, been a while, i guess. i think i'll call her." "you should, ted. you're a real catch." "you think so? thanks."
level 6: intillectual college talk.
example: "i'm really having some issues with my weight. i think it's because i eat too many candy bars because i felt neglected by my mother when i was a child." "i think it's because we have a republican for president." "that too. all bad things can be traced to bush."
level 7: meaning of life.
example: "why am i here? is there a god? do butterflies matter? why are my toenails green? what does it all mean?" "because your mother got knocked up at 17 and neglected you. maybe. yes. because you're in financial distress due to all the candybar purchases. everything."
i don't think that's exactly right, but anyway . . .
alas, i told him, the blog has dribbled away into stories about my baby and my art and what i cooked for dinner. maybe because i don't have any more level 7's in me. maybe because i write after midnight. and maybe it is important.
ben tells me his recent realization that really validated these posts, and i thought i would share it with you as a reason/excuse i publish recipes for burritos on my blog. it's not all about level 7 conversations. i don't have to look for the meaning of life every day. my stories are level 7 stories because they are the stuff of life. they are my actions. they are the things that make me happy. they are important, and just because they will never be published, they may never be remembered, and i didn't use spell check, they are good and important as the air is sweet.
thanks ben.
at one point, ben had explained each level of conversation, up to level 7. i can't remember it exactly, but it was something like this:
level 1: the stuff you talk about with retail cashiers. not even conversation, really. just words that help you get away from the cashier:
example: "hi how are you?" "good." "that'll be $12.57. credit or debit?" "debit." "please slide your card. would you like cash back?" "no." "here's your reciept." "thank you." "have a nice day." "you too."
level 2: weather talk with people standing in line at the cashier.
example: "is it hot in here?" "yes it is. and this line is taking forever." "i think he's new." "he's cute though." "yes, and very polite." "look though, he has something on his chin." "looks like chocolate." "mmm, chocolate. will you hold my place in line while i get a candybar?" "sure." "thanks! be right back."
level 3: superficial girlie talk on the phone while you're painting your toe nails.
example: "so, there was this really cute cashier guy i met today." "really? what's his name?" "ted." "ted? that's not a good name." "why?" "i don't know. just doesn't sound good." "i gave him my number." "why?" "because he was cute. and he forgot to ring up my candy bar." "why'd you get a candy bar? i thought you were on a diet." "that doesn't start until tomorrow." "so what are you doing now?" "painting my toe nails." "what color?" "green." "green? why green?" "hold on, someone's beeping in."
level 4: purposeful talk that doesn't really mean anything. like work stuff.
example: "hey ted, i know you're new here, but i noticed the line is moving rather slow." "i can try to go faster, but i may have to scrimp on the politeness." "just do the best you can." "okay."
level 5: purposeful talk that does mean something.
example: "wanna have lunch together, ted?" "sure." "sorry i'm so slow. i'm a little distracted. i met a girl today." "really? what's she like." "a little pudgy, but cute and polite." "when's the last time you had a girlfriend?" "oh, been a while, i guess. i think i'll call her." "you should, ted. you're a real catch." "you think so? thanks."
level 6: intillectual college talk.
example: "i'm really having some issues with my weight. i think it's because i eat too many candy bars because i felt neglected by my mother when i was a child." "i think it's because we have a republican for president." "that too. all bad things can be traced to bush."
level 7: meaning of life.
example: "why am i here? is there a god? do butterflies matter? why are my toenails green? what does it all mean?" "because your mother got knocked up at 17 and neglected you. maybe. yes. because you're in financial distress due to all the candybar purchases. everything."
i don't think that's exactly right, but anyway . . .
alas, i told him, the blog has dribbled away into stories about my baby and my art and what i cooked for dinner. maybe because i don't have any more level 7's in me. maybe because i write after midnight. and maybe it is important.
ben tells me his recent realization that really validated these posts, and i thought i would share it with you as a reason/excuse i publish recipes for burritos on my blog. it's not all about level 7 conversations. i don't have to look for the meaning of life every day. my stories are level 7 stories because they are the stuff of life. they are my actions. they are the things that make me happy. they are important, and just because they will never be published, they may never be remembered, and i didn't use spell check, they are good and important as the air is sweet.
thanks ben.
baby reaches mountain top
penn and i took an accidental nap this afternoon. we slept until 7:30! thus, penn didn't go to bed until 10:30. which was good, actually, because benji got home late again and was still able to say goodnight before he left again. now daddy's out doing fun stuff and i'm jealous because i can't AND i have to clean up all the penn dinner mess in the kitchen.
when penn started getting sleepy, i put him in his stupid little bed, which is against the end of the big nice bed. i layed down with him and sang. i sing whatever pops into my head, but somewhere in there is always "the itsy bitsy spider." i used to think he smiled because i did the motions. nope. he just likes the song. it's a nice private time p. and i get to have, there in the dark, smiling and singing and looking at one another.
his eyes close, and he's pretty much asleep, so i get out of the stupid little bed and he instantly starts crying. i lay back down. instant silence. i lay there for a while and then get up again. repeat insanity. the last time i try to get up (i can't lay for too long or i end up falling asleep with him) he cries and i reluctantly keep walking. i'm such a softy. i give the crying about five minutes. it's not loud and obnoxious, but it's obviously not going to stop anytime soon, either. i walk into the bedroom and HE'S ON THE BIG NICE BED! ha ha.
right there in the middle, whining because mommy's not sleeping with him. which means-----my baby can climb onto things! i'm so impressed. my kitten can't even climb on things! he literally puts half of his body in your lap and waits for you to push his ass up for him.
way to go penn!
when penn started getting sleepy, i put him in his stupid little bed, which is against the end of the big nice bed. i layed down with him and sang. i sing whatever pops into my head, but somewhere in there is always "the itsy bitsy spider." i used to think he smiled because i did the motions. nope. he just likes the song. it's a nice private time p. and i get to have, there in the dark, smiling and singing and looking at one another.
his eyes close, and he's pretty much asleep, so i get out of the stupid little bed and he instantly starts crying. i lay back down. instant silence. i lay there for a while and then get up again. repeat insanity. the last time i try to get up (i can't lay for too long or i end up falling asleep with him) he cries and i reluctantly keep walking. i'm such a softy. i give the crying about five minutes. it's not loud and obnoxious, but it's obviously not going to stop anytime soon, either. i walk into the bedroom and HE'S ON THE BIG NICE BED! ha ha.
right there in the middle, whining because mommy's not sleeping with him. which means-----my baby can climb onto things! i'm so impressed. my kitten can't even climb on things! he literally puts half of his body in your lap and waits for you to push his ass up for him.
way to go penn!
magic bra makes woman whole
you can wear old clothes, old socks, old underwear even, but you cannot wear an old bra. brassier's are designed for function and there is a point in a bra's life where it just doesn't have the same oomph anymore. it can no longer love the boobies as it once did. unless you were cheap and bought a cheap bra from a cheap store and that wire started out a little crooked, that strap refused to stay on your shoulders, it was a little loose, a little tight, sat a little high. . . it was cheap and was meant to love your wallet, and never the precious boobies.
the last time i bought a new bra was a couple years before penn was born. pregnancy and nursing will really test the highs and lows of the boobies. i had bought three nursing bras, only one of which really fit. (i think i bought them too early after the birth when i was still huge and then turned into the amazing shrinking woman.)
today, i was fed up. i actually have several bras, but not one of them is any good. not one of them am i happy to strap on in the morning. i'm a big fan of letting it all hang out, but a little voice in my head and too many old wives tales tell me to prevent any sagging, i should continue the trend of the over the shoulder boulder holder. blah.
so, while out running errands, penn and i walked to gap body. i asked them to measure me so i could find the perfect fit. (no time for trying on a handful with the bebe.) it was quick. painless. and next thing you know, i've found out i've shrunk into a 32 B. perfect! i say. i've always been a fan of the small chest. i hit the sales rack and went into the dressing room. penn crawled around on the floor and ate the hangers.
now, i tell you this with full conviction: i have found the perfect bra. it is the gap "favorite" bra. it is on sale for $9.99. (thought i just noticed online it is a different price.) they will be discontinuing the line after the sale. another customer whom i convinced to buy this bra asked a valid question: why discontinue something you've named the "favorite?" me: don't know. don't care. i got it now! i bought two: white and nude. it's THE most comfortable, shape flattering thing in the whole world. i came home, put it on, turned the beatles up nice and loud, and penn and i danced all over the house. then i took it off because i didn't want to get it sweaty and stinky with my dancing.
i also got the seamless t-shirt. it was a splurge. only $9.99, but it's normally a stupid 20 bucks and yummy comfy t-shirts get me all hot and bothered, ha ha.
i know it's silly. it's just a bra. but somehow, putting it on today, made me feel really happy. made me dance to the beatles and jump on the bed with penn while he giggled at his silly mommy and wondered why she was playing with his food. give yourself a treat. go buy the magic bra.
the last time i bought a new bra was a couple years before penn was born. pregnancy and nursing will really test the highs and lows of the boobies. i had bought three nursing bras, only one of which really fit. (i think i bought them too early after the birth when i was still huge and then turned into the amazing shrinking woman.)
today, i was fed up. i actually have several bras, but not one of them is any good. not one of them am i happy to strap on in the morning. i'm a big fan of letting it all hang out, but a little voice in my head and too many old wives tales tell me to prevent any sagging, i should continue the trend of the over the shoulder boulder holder. blah.
so, while out running errands, penn and i walked to gap body. i asked them to measure me so i could find the perfect fit. (no time for trying on a handful with the bebe.) it was quick. painless. and next thing you know, i've found out i've shrunk into a 32 B. perfect! i say. i've always been a fan of the small chest. i hit the sales rack and went into the dressing room. penn crawled around on the floor and ate the hangers.
now, i tell you this with full conviction: i have found the perfect bra. it is the gap "favorite" bra. it is on sale for $9.99. (thought i just noticed online it is a different price.) they will be discontinuing the line after the sale. another customer whom i convinced to buy this bra asked a valid question: why discontinue something you've named the "favorite?" me: don't know. don't care. i got it now! i bought two: white and nude. it's THE most comfortable, shape flattering thing in the whole world. i came home, put it on, turned the beatles up nice and loud, and penn and i danced all over the house. then i took it off because i didn't want to get it sweaty and stinky with my dancing.
i also got the seamless t-shirt. it was a splurge. only $9.99, but it's normally a stupid 20 bucks and yummy comfy t-shirts get me all hot and bothered, ha ha.
i know it's silly. it's just a bra. but somehow, putting it on today, made me feel really happy. made me dance to the beatles and jump on the bed with penn while he giggled at his silly mommy and wondered why she was playing with his food. give yourself a treat. go buy the magic bra.
Sep 15, 2004
day in the life of a spool
lots of pictures posted for today, so keep a' scrollin'. here are three of our cherished spool/coffee table.
study shows blogging leads to depression and babies
i have spent the last hour and a half deleting the e-mail that has piled itself into three overwhelming pages in my mailbox. it's eleven o'clock and i've drank a cup and a half of coffee but the eyelids refuse to obey the caffine. i am officially immune to all legal stimulants. oh now, don't go there, i'm just making a funny.
for the past two days i keep getting messages from my new client that my e-mail box is full and he cannot send me the mega huge eat up all of cyberspace files he'd like me to see. bull shit. the little green bar is still green and only goes up to 30%. if a file takes up more than that---well, maybe i just don't need that file, righty-o?! alas, after an agonizing finger workout of clicking and deleting and saving i am now down to a respectable 17%. i've saved only bill junk and a stupid southwestern bell order confirmation for something i did not order. what is wrong with these people?!
after the purge i went for my daily dose of very cool blogs. i really love a good blog. it's quicker than a good book, better than a boring magazine, more addictive than reality tv (like that one's hard to top) and more entertaining than cleaning up sticky apple juice left from penn's "drop game."
the drop game
this is where he takes his oh so cute colorful cups with straws, gives me the eye, to make sure i'm paying attention, gives me the smile, the one that says, "i'm starting to think on my own and this is what i've decided to do with my thoughts," slowly takes his cup and places it over the side of his high chair tray, another smile, then drop! splash!
mommy: uggghhhh, peennnnn.
penn: hahaha! could you put that back, please, mommy, i'm thirsty.
repeat.
oops! look what i did. hey, could you get that for me?
repeat.
how does that keep happening? *smile*
repeat. repeat. repeat.
the drop game began with great applause from me---until the cup broke. i'm down to mild amusement and being okay with baby cotton mouth now.
back to my blog fix: my current favorite blog is dooce.com. it is written by heather armstrong. she grew up in tennessee and is a recovering mormon. she lost her job due to this website that discussed, i guess, things about your job the globe shouldn't be able to read on the internet. now, who's to say what that should be? she is a mother to a seven month old girl she calls Her Screamness Who Screams A Lot Every Day With the Screaming. she calls her baby lots of amusing things. she is immensley entertaining and intelligent and i urge you to join me in my addiction to good blog lit.
there is also the dullest blog in the world. you'll just have to go there to understand.
i always have to check photographer extraordinaire sarah jane semrad's blog to see if she's posted any new and inspiring pictures. you should really take a looksy at her portfolio if you're at all interested in photography. what a muse.
there's my friend/son's godmother, jonelle (nella) who has a blog i have to read to keep up with her. she has a rather interesting comparison of life to a resees peanut butter cup posted at the moment.
there is the daily dose of imagery, which is just that. all from canada. oh canada . . . .
and last, but definetly not least, is my old high school friend ginger's blog, sweet and somber fairy tale. she's the bestest teacher in the whole entire world. and she introduced me to the pixies. a small goddess, i say.
me? i'm just writing. just writing every day, whatever it is, to feel my beloved keys against my fingertips and remember what it used to feel like to be a literary genius. this is obviously not it. but it's a good step at remembering. maybe one day penn will quit pulling on my pants leg asking me to "walk" him somewhere. then i'll get very depressed. then, i'll paint something morbid. then i'll write something beautiful. then, i'll probably have to have another baby.
thanks for reading.
penn playing the "drop game"
for the past two days i keep getting messages from my new client that my e-mail box is full and he cannot send me the mega huge eat up all of cyberspace files he'd like me to see. bull shit. the little green bar is still green and only goes up to 30%. if a file takes up more than that---well, maybe i just don't need that file, righty-o?! alas, after an agonizing finger workout of clicking and deleting and saving i am now down to a respectable 17%. i've saved only bill junk and a stupid southwestern bell order confirmation for something i did not order. what is wrong with these people?!
after the purge i went for my daily dose of very cool blogs. i really love a good blog. it's quicker than a good book, better than a boring magazine, more addictive than reality tv (like that one's hard to top) and more entertaining than cleaning up sticky apple juice left from penn's "drop game."
the drop game
this is where he takes his oh so cute colorful cups with straws, gives me the eye, to make sure i'm paying attention, gives me the smile, the one that says, "i'm starting to think on my own and this is what i've decided to do with my thoughts," slowly takes his cup and places it over the side of his high chair tray, another smile, then drop! splash!
mommy: uggghhhh, peennnnn.
penn: hahaha! could you put that back, please, mommy, i'm thirsty.
repeat.
oops! look what i did. hey, could you get that for me?
repeat.
how does that keep happening? *smile*
repeat. repeat. repeat.
the drop game began with great applause from me---until the cup broke. i'm down to mild amusement and being okay with baby cotton mouth now.
back to my blog fix: my current favorite blog is dooce.com. it is written by heather armstrong. she grew up in tennessee and is a recovering mormon. she lost her job due to this website that discussed, i guess, things about your job the globe shouldn't be able to read on the internet. now, who's to say what that should be? she is a mother to a seven month old girl she calls Her Screamness Who Screams A Lot Every Day With the Screaming. she calls her baby lots of amusing things. she is immensley entertaining and intelligent and i urge you to join me in my addiction to good blog lit.
there is also the dullest blog in the world. you'll just have to go there to understand.
i always have to check photographer extraordinaire sarah jane semrad's blog to see if she's posted any new and inspiring pictures. you should really take a looksy at her portfolio if you're at all interested in photography. what a muse.
there's my friend/son's godmother, jonelle (nella) who has a blog i have to read to keep up with her. she has a rather interesting comparison of life to a resees peanut butter cup posted at the moment.
there is the daily dose of imagery, which is just that. all from canada. oh canada . . . .
and last, but definetly not least, is my old high school friend ginger's blog, sweet and somber fairy tale. she's the bestest teacher in the whole entire world. and she introduced me to the pixies. a small goddess, i say.
me? i'm just writing. just writing every day, whatever it is, to feel my beloved keys against my fingertips and remember what it used to feel like to be a literary genius. this is obviously not it. but it's a good step at remembering. maybe one day penn will quit pulling on my pants leg asking me to "walk" him somewhere. then i'll get very depressed. then, i'll paint something morbid. then i'll write something beautiful. then, i'll probably have to have another baby.
thanks for reading.
penn playing the "drop game"
wtf?
what the hell is this? i went to take the trash out . . .alright, i went to set it by the door for benji to take out . . .and there was this mega bug sitting in front of my door! my camera doesn't do it justice. it's HUGE, full of stripes and weird patterns and it was watching me. i couldn't get close enough to get a really good pic. every time i tried, he'd move a leg and cock his head and i'd run back to the door. he was very interesting, though, and i decided to take his buggy portrait.
Sep 14, 2004
girl gets job, passes out
note: i wrote this last night. i went to check why penn was awake, and ended up falling asleep with him. this morning, this post was still on my computer untouched by the beastly cybergods. i decided to post it.
i got the job! woo-ha. i met with the cabinet maker, 10:30 this a.m. at starbucks. i got there first and already have my venti iced soy hazelnut latte. i ask him if he'd like to get a drink before we start talking. his mouth is watering. he really wants a cup of joe. he gets up, long enough to look through the window, and turns to sit down. "i don't like waiting in lines," he says. "i am not a very patient man." i offer to share mine and he calls me sweet. he is a character! an extremely nice, very cool khaki short, plaid shirt, cowboy hat wearing character. after talking for an hour and fifteen he leans back and looks full. "alright, i definetly want to work with you," he says. i start taking pictures monday. along with the simple portfolio there will be portraits and a postcard.
i owe the uninterupted meeting to my friend mary. everyone should have a mary, i say. she and her two side kick nieces babysat penn for the hour and half i was gone. they're all super awesome. she also brought me def poetry jam on dvd to watch and four cd's to burn! i don't want to hear your stealing-from-the-artists-rant right now, i'm trying to brag on my friend. and---she wouldn't let me pay her. ahhhh, mary. i'll make it up to you somehow and i'm ever so grateful.
*note: mary had to come back that evening to pick up her forgotten cell phone. i fell asleep on her, too. sorry mary!
i'm also alive; meaning, penn sleeping in the stupid little bed didn't kill me last night. i call it the stupid little bed because i wish penn could manage to not fall out of the big bed so that i could continue to cuddle with him at night. *sigh* but, it's too scary to chance it. the little bed isn't stupid. it is the mattress from his crib that we never used. it's on the floor at the end of our bed, which is also just box springs and mattress on the floor. he's surrounded by pillows on one side to keep him from rolling into the dresser and the bed on the other side. i put fuzzy blankets under his sheets because he's used to sleeping on that fluffy egg crate stuff. he's under a blanket i crocheted while i was pregnent. it looks comfy. i almost fell asleep with him tonight. i layed down with him and he fell asleep on my chest. my legs hang over the end of the stupid little bed.
i don't remember what time it was, but at some point he woke up and poked his little head over the big bed. i pulled him in and we went back to sleep. we took up the whole bed, ben says, and he had to sleep on the couch. . .again. maybe that will be the bonus of the little bed----ben won't have to sleep in the living room anymore. *sorry sweetie!*
*that was as far as i got. we'll do better today.
i got the job! woo-ha. i met with the cabinet maker, 10:30 this a.m. at starbucks. i got there first and already have my venti iced soy hazelnut latte. i ask him if he'd like to get a drink before we start talking. his mouth is watering. he really wants a cup of joe. he gets up, long enough to look through the window, and turns to sit down. "i don't like waiting in lines," he says. "i am not a very patient man." i offer to share mine and he calls me sweet. he is a character! an extremely nice, very cool khaki short, plaid shirt, cowboy hat wearing character. after talking for an hour and fifteen he leans back and looks full. "alright, i definetly want to work with you," he says. i start taking pictures monday. along with the simple portfolio there will be portraits and a postcard.
i owe the uninterupted meeting to my friend mary. everyone should have a mary, i say. she and her two side kick nieces babysat penn for the hour and half i was gone. they're all super awesome. she also brought me def poetry jam on dvd to watch and four cd's to burn! i don't want to hear your stealing-from-the-artists-rant right now, i'm trying to brag on my friend. and---she wouldn't let me pay her. ahhhh, mary. i'll make it up to you somehow and i'm ever so grateful.
*note: mary had to come back that evening to pick up her forgotten cell phone. i fell asleep on her, too. sorry mary!
i'm also alive; meaning, penn sleeping in the stupid little bed didn't kill me last night. i call it the stupid little bed because i wish penn could manage to not fall out of the big bed so that i could continue to cuddle with him at night. *sigh* but, it's too scary to chance it. the little bed isn't stupid. it is the mattress from his crib that we never used. it's on the floor at the end of our bed, which is also just box springs and mattress on the floor. he's surrounded by pillows on one side to keep him from rolling into the dresser and the bed on the other side. i put fuzzy blankets under his sheets because he's used to sleeping on that fluffy egg crate stuff. he's under a blanket i crocheted while i was pregnent. it looks comfy. i almost fell asleep with him tonight. i layed down with him and he fell asleep on my chest. my legs hang over the end of the stupid little bed.
i don't remember what time it was, but at some point he woke up and poked his little head over the big bed. i pulled him in and we went back to sleep. we took up the whole bed, ben says, and he had to sleep on the couch. . .again. maybe that will be the bonus of the little bed----ben won't have to sleep in the living room anymore. *sorry sweetie!*
*that was as far as i got. we'll do better today.
Sep 12, 2004
want for nothing---except skinny white chick
get thee to cdbaby and buy s.j. tuckers new album "haphazard." here's a clip from my new favorite s.j. song as impetus to keep reading: tatoo grrl.
here's why:
a couple of years ago, out of the blue, i moved to memphis, tennesse. for no reason in the world, other than to move. i didn't know a soul. i take that back---i did know one very important soul. more about that later. i moved with nothing. i got an apartment and a job and lived on rice for a month. i continued to be the happiest person on the planet.
i was working at brenatno's bookstore in the oak court mall in memphis, tennessee. (yes, i have worked at many bookstores in many malls.) a skinny, long haired, rose tinted glasses, tank top and jewelry wearing, unclassifiable chick walked in. i spouted the usual retail greeting, "hi, can i help you?" she is friendly. the kind of friendly that makes you hope she'll be your friend. i don't remember what we talked about, but somehow she mentions she is a singer. "whoa," i say. i sing. then she mentions she plays guitar. "whoa," i say. i play guitar. i also admit i am not that good. she mentions she is from dumas, arkansas. "whoa," i say. i graduated high school from hamburg, arkansas. (the towns are close and similiar.) we have officially bonded.
her name is s.j. tucker. "you can call me suze, s.j., skinny white chick, whatever," she says. i settled on s.j. she tells me she's having a show at the maproom downtown and i should come. she describes her music as a cross between ani difranco, jeff buckley, and tori amos. i am totally there. she writes her contact info. on a card for me, in case i get lost.
the maproom, is very very, very very cool. a bit of a coffee shop by day and whathaveyou by night. it is on the corner of something and mainstreet. there were three punk bands and s.j. playing downstairs in the basement and a jazz band playing upstairs. i sat and listened to the jazz band. not that i could have willed my feet to take me downstairs, they were so amazing. my favorite thing, pre-child, was to listen to live music. probably because many of my friends were in a band, or were phish followers who had to follow someone else from time to time. i can't remember the name of the band. but i think i fell in love with each member before i went downstairs to watch the show. it was nice, to sit there, listening to the most groovin' jazz with a sort of culturefied older crowd, watching every walk of life pass by the window outside mohawks and punk kid, geek rockers and hippies weaving through the jazz crowd towards the basement---everyone in their own peace. there was one very very tall, older skinny black man with a straw pointed hat and a warm essential oil smell that sat near me. he was with a plump round conservative looking white woman. they were an odd couple. i'd swear i've seen them everywhere.
the basement is called the basement, because it is one. it is cramped and warm and damp and packed, but nobody cares. there is a pool table that serves as seating. a tiny bathroom in the corner behind a cracked mirror. and then, there is the "stage." you can find the "stage" by following the plethora of extension cords to the box of xmas lights.
s.j. spots me and comes to hug. s.j. is a great hugger. she's wearing a corset and feathers in her hair. she thanks me for coming and wishes me luck on seating. i squeeze into the only available spot in the room, which just happened to be at s.j.'s feet. there was a lovely red light that fell on top of her head, accentuating the sweat that rolled down her forehead and made her glasses slip down her nose. when she started singing, the entire packed room of punk-rock kids fell silent and attentive. we all fell in love. it was the most amazing thing i had heard in a long time. her voice, like velvet, just floated into our heads and told us everything we needed to know. when her set was done, we asked for more.
i left the maproom about 2a.m. i was so happy and just didn't want to go home. so, i took a walk through downtown memphis. i walked to a fountain and pulled a coin from my pocket to make a wish. i stood there, in front of the fountain and couldn't think of thing to wish for. i wanted nothing. i needed nothing. i was happy, in memphis, eating rice, working at a bookstore.
i called that one soul that i knew because i had to tell someone about my fabulous encounter with this fabulous being. we went to the roof of his apartment which overlooked downtown memphis, smoked a bowl, and fell asleep. it was one of the lovliest days i can remember.
i say all of that, to tell you this: go to cdbaby and buy her new cd "haphhazard." it's only ten bucks. do it. do it now. you'll thank me later. you'll get a free promo cd from cdbaby which also rocks! she is, as she first described to me, a bit of a combo of ani difranco (my future wife), jeff buckley, and tori amos. i also hear joni mitchell. doesn't she sound like joni here? aahhhh, joni. but she is so so much more.
here is a clip of my favorite s.j. song, "classic changes" which apparently didn't make the cd cut. *sniff sniff*
here's why:
a couple of years ago, out of the blue, i moved to memphis, tennesse. for no reason in the world, other than to move. i didn't know a soul. i take that back---i did know one very important soul. more about that later. i moved with nothing. i got an apartment and a job and lived on rice for a month. i continued to be the happiest person on the planet.
i was working at brenatno's bookstore in the oak court mall in memphis, tennessee. (yes, i have worked at many bookstores in many malls.) a skinny, long haired, rose tinted glasses, tank top and jewelry wearing, unclassifiable chick walked in. i spouted the usual retail greeting, "hi, can i help you?" she is friendly. the kind of friendly that makes you hope she'll be your friend. i don't remember what we talked about, but somehow she mentions she is a singer. "whoa," i say. i sing. then she mentions she plays guitar. "whoa," i say. i play guitar. i also admit i am not that good. she mentions she is from dumas, arkansas. "whoa," i say. i graduated high school from hamburg, arkansas. (the towns are close and similiar.) we have officially bonded.
her name is s.j. tucker. "you can call me suze, s.j., skinny white chick, whatever," she says. i settled on s.j. she tells me she's having a show at the maproom downtown and i should come. she describes her music as a cross between ani difranco, jeff buckley, and tori amos. i am totally there. she writes her contact info. on a card for me, in case i get lost.
the maproom, is very very, very very cool. a bit of a coffee shop by day and whathaveyou by night. it is on the corner of something and mainstreet. there were three punk bands and s.j. playing downstairs in the basement and a jazz band playing upstairs. i sat and listened to the jazz band. not that i could have willed my feet to take me downstairs, they were so amazing. my favorite thing, pre-child, was to listen to live music. probably because many of my friends were in a band, or were phish followers who had to follow someone else from time to time. i can't remember the name of the band. but i think i fell in love with each member before i went downstairs to watch the show. it was nice, to sit there, listening to the most groovin' jazz with a sort of culturefied older crowd, watching every walk of life pass by the window outside mohawks and punk kid, geek rockers and hippies weaving through the jazz crowd towards the basement---everyone in their own peace. there was one very very tall, older skinny black man with a straw pointed hat and a warm essential oil smell that sat near me. he was with a plump round conservative looking white woman. they were an odd couple. i'd swear i've seen them everywhere.
the basement is called the basement, because it is one. it is cramped and warm and damp and packed, but nobody cares. there is a pool table that serves as seating. a tiny bathroom in the corner behind a cracked mirror. and then, there is the "stage." you can find the "stage" by following the plethora of extension cords to the box of xmas lights.
s.j. spots me and comes to hug. s.j. is a great hugger. she's wearing a corset and feathers in her hair. she thanks me for coming and wishes me luck on seating. i squeeze into the only available spot in the room, which just happened to be at s.j.'s feet. there was a lovely red light that fell on top of her head, accentuating the sweat that rolled down her forehead and made her glasses slip down her nose. when she started singing, the entire packed room of punk-rock kids fell silent and attentive. we all fell in love. it was the most amazing thing i had heard in a long time. her voice, like velvet, just floated into our heads and told us everything we needed to know. when her set was done, we asked for more.
i left the maproom about 2a.m. i was so happy and just didn't want to go home. so, i took a walk through downtown memphis. i walked to a fountain and pulled a coin from my pocket to make a wish. i stood there, in front of the fountain and couldn't think of thing to wish for. i wanted nothing. i needed nothing. i was happy, in memphis, eating rice, working at a bookstore.
i called that one soul that i knew because i had to tell someone about my fabulous encounter with this fabulous being. we went to the roof of his apartment which overlooked downtown memphis, smoked a bowl, and fell asleep. it was one of the lovliest days i can remember.
i say all of that, to tell you this: go to cdbaby and buy her new cd "haphhazard." it's only ten bucks. do it. do it now. you'll thank me later. you'll get a free promo cd from cdbaby which also rocks! she is, as she first described to me, a bit of a combo of ani difranco (my future wife), jeff buckley, and tori amos. i also hear joni mitchell. doesn't she sound like joni here? aahhhh, joni. but she is so so much more.
here is a clip of my favorite s.j. song, "classic changes" which apparently didn't make the cd cut. *sniff sniff*
the snapshot wins
when i started this blog, i thought i would only put photographs of those random things i see in the day and take pictures of. pictures no one else but me will ever want or pay money for or care about, but pictures that illustrate my eyes. "no snapshots."
hell, i can't help it. here are two of the bebe. they make me laugh when i see them. my mom reads this. at least she'll appreciate it. hah!
hell, i can't help it. here are two of the bebe. they make me laugh when i see them. my mom reads this. at least she'll appreciate it. hah!
empty nest syndrome hits early
sometimes i wonder why i'm not some big pimp chef running a super resturant. i made burritos tonight for penn and i. they kick ass. in case you'd like to try them:
ingredients:
spinach onion garlic tortillias (just buy the green ones)
brown rice
smushed black beans
zuccini, cut small and sauteed in olive oil and garlic salt
colby jack cheese
mozzarella cheese
vegetable oil
put all the ingredients in the tortillia. fold ends over, then fold sides, overlapping. fry on both sides for a minute (they brown supa fast). serve with sour cream. i think they could've used olives. for once, i was out.
they're super yummy! penn ate half of one and i ate the other half. yes, he literally eats as much as i do. both of us were very impressed.
today he flipped right over the bedrail. heels over head and then bam! flat on his back. so scary because i was lying in bed with him reading alice in wonderland and couldn't move quick enough to catch him.
in the evening, benji comes home from work and we re-hash our beautiful day, filled with parks and reading and playing and walking . . .and then we move on to how many times p. has hurt himself. i dread i will hear the knock of social services, ha ha. i can hear them now, "so, exactly how many times has your kid hit his head and/or fallen out of the bed?" p.'s godfather is a social worker. perhaps he can vouch for my love.
penn is asleep in the bed now. at the end, where he has manuvered around all of his protective pillows, covers and rails. i think tomorrow night i'm going to try putting him on his crib mattress on the floor and see if it kills me. it might. i adore sleeping with him. i went to sleep last night with a warm little bare foot on the back of my neck. little toes, curling and flexing on their own. i will desperatley miss that if i have to put him on the floor.
i swear to you, i already have empty nest syndrome. penn is 9 months, 2 weeks, and 1 day old. part of me wants him to stay right here. in fact, maybe go back a month before he was so mobile, and let me have him little and dependent forever. young and innocent and beautiful, no matter what. and part of me is ready for grandbabies. hah. i enjoy every tiny thing he does. i'm fascinated. annoyed, of course, sometimes, but still utterly intrigued by this little being that i grew! that i'm still growing. and i just hate hate hate that i'm actually having to think about not sleeping with him.
penn and i have only been apart for four hours since he was born. i know it's insane of me. we've just managed so well taking him with us and i don't have family here to watch him. i've varying reasons why my friends aren't babysitters. i've varying financial reasons he doesn't have a nanny or a daycare. we don't need one. so there. i'm staying at home, with the bebe, and i'll just have to earn my keep another way. benji is a blessing.
so, it's he and i, the whole day long. and we like it that way. sure, i'd like a break. i'd like a massage. i'd really like a massage. just doesn't get any better for me, ha-ha! but, staying at home with a sore back from "walking" the boy is just as rewarding.
i'm off to finish crocheting my blanket so my penn can sleep with it soon. *sigh* ben says he could have used it a year ago (i haven't been working on it that long). i have some obsession with it being huge. i wanted a great big huge hand crocheted cotton blanket. i've only 3 more balls of yarn and we'll be done. it weighs a ton.
g'nite.
ingredients:
spinach onion garlic tortillias (just buy the green ones)
brown rice
smushed black beans
zuccini, cut small and sauteed in olive oil and garlic salt
colby jack cheese
mozzarella cheese
vegetable oil
put all the ingredients in the tortillia. fold ends over, then fold sides, overlapping. fry on both sides for a minute (they brown supa fast). serve with sour cream. i think they could've used olives. for once, i was out.
they're super yummy! penn ate half of one and i ate the other half. yes, he literally eats as much as i do. both of us were very impressed.
today he flipped right over the bedrail. heels over head and then bam! flat on his back. so scary because i was lying in bed with him reading alice in wonderland and couldn't move quick enough to catch him.
in the evening, benji comes home from work and we re-hash our beautiful day, filled with parks and reading and playing and walking . . .and then we move on to how many times p. has hurt himself. i dread i will hear the knock of social services, ha ha. i can hear them now, "so, exactly how many times has your kid hit his head and/or fallen out of the bed?" p.'s godfather is a social worker. perhaps he can vouch for my love.
penn is asleep in the bed now. at the end, where he has manuvered around all of his protective pillows, covers and rails. i think tomorrow night i'm going to try putting him on his crib mattress on the floor and see if it kills me. it might. i adore sleeping with him. i went to sleep last night with a warm little bare foot on the back of my neck. little toes, curling and flexing on their own. i will desperatley miss that if i have to put him on the floor.
i swear to you, i already have empty nest syndrome. penn is 9 months, 2 weeks, and 1 day old. part of me wants him to stay right here. in fact, maybe go back a month before he was so mobile, and let me have him little and dependent forever. young and innocent and beautiful, no matter what. and part of me is ready for grandbabies. hah. i enjoy every tiny thing he does. i'm fascinated. annoyed, of course, sometimes, but still utterly intrigued by this little being that i grew! that i'm still growing. and i just hate hate hate that i'm actually having to think about not sleeping with him.
penn and i have only been apart for four hours since he was born. i know it's insane of me. we've just managed so well taking him with us and i don't have family here to watch him. i've varying reasons why my friends aren't babysitters. i've varying financial reasons he doesn't have a nanny or a daycare. we don't need one. so there. i'm staying at home, with the bebe, and i'll just have to earn my keep another way. benji is a blessing.
so, it's he and i, the whole day long. and we like it that way. sure, i'd like a break. i'd like a massage. i'd really like a massage. just doesn't get any better for me, ha-ha! but, staying at home with a sore back from "walking" the boy is just as rewarding.
i'm off to finish crocheting my blanket so my penn can sleep with it soon. *sigh* ben says he could have used it a year ago (i haven't been working on it that long). i have some obsession with it being huge. i wanted a great big huge hand crocheted cotton blanket. i've only 3 more balls of yarn and we'll be done. it weighs a ton.
g'nite.
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