What Was I Thinking?

There is a forum on NaNoWriMo entittled: NaNoWriMo Ate My Soul!

I feel very at home on that forum and have been spending a lot of time there (time I should be spending on my novel). 

Nevertheless, I love reading about other people who are in the same miserable boat as I am, watching the water, empty of words, fill my boat until I'm barely afloat.

I've seriously considered throwing in the towel.  Or, even worse, pretending to have written in order to keep up appearances.  After all, who would know?

But, no, I'm behind, plain and simple.  And every attempt to catch up has been thwarted.

I have been doing fairly well on my Art Every Day challenge.  So far, I've posted every day.  Some days what I've posted I would call "crap", but, hey, at least I posted.

Oh, well.

Fifteen more days to go until this crazy creative month is over.

We'll see what happens...

The Eye of Betrayal

On Sunday, I somehow scratched my right eye.


Now, I didn’t know this until Monday morning when I woke up with my eye screaming at me.

Ms. Right Eye was NOT a happy camper.

In fact, when I went to put in my contact, she threw a fit and refused to cooperate. She turned red-er and leaky-er (and gross-er). And then the skin around her (to show solidarity, I think) grew puffy and pink.

It was not a pretty sight! (Not that I could see it really well.)

So, that led to no work on Monday (which should have been “yay!” but because of the eye sitch was more of a “boo… my eye hurts… I’ll just sleep in sadness…”)

And it’s also made me wear my glasses this whole week.

And that fact has led me to this post, because you would think that switching from contacts to glasses would be no big deal, especially since it’s the same prescription.

But you would be wrong, my friends. Very wrong!

Here is a small list of things I’ve had to deal with as I’ve worn glasses this week to show you WHY I HATE GLASSES AND THINK THEY’RE DUMB (aside from giving me the gift of sight, which is awesome):

1) They make me feel like I’m walking slightly uphill (everywhere I go) (even when I know I’m going downhill).

2) They make things look smaller than I know they are.

3) They make things look farther away than I know they are.

4) They mess with my depth perception (see points 1, 2 and 3).

5) They make me hit myself in the face when blow-drying my hair (twice) (see points 3 and 4).

6) They limit my peripheral vision and make me have to turn my head (when I remember in time, which is never).

7) They make me get honked at while driving (see points 2, 3, 4, and especially 6).

8) They make me almost die while driving (see points 2, 3, 4, 6, and 7).

9) They make my eyes ache.

10) They give me a headache EVERY DAY!!! (see point 9).

11) They make me go home and sit in a stupor because I don’t know what to do with myself (see points 9 and 10).

12) They give me an excuse not to try to do anything after work because I can’t see properly, anyway (see points 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 9, 10, and 11).

13) They make me go to sleep earlier than normal (and then lie there, pining for accurate vision) (see points 9, 10, 11, and 12)

14) They make me feel like a loser because I’ve done ABSOLUTELY nothing all week: no reading, no writing, no painting, no meeting with friends, no after work adventures, no nothing!


Tomorrow, Saturday, I’m going to try my contacts again because I have a lot of catching up to do (the next step on a new painting; writing for my writing group deadline on Monday; reading, sweet reading; etc.)

Please pray for me.

I mean it. Please!!!! Pretty please!!!!!!



I can’t handle my glasses anymore*.





*I know you’re thinking “Sounds like you need new glasses, Liz.” And you’re probably right. But, honestly, ever since I switched to wearing contacts 15+ years ago, wearing glasses always creates these side-effects for me. Always. It’s very disappointing, because fashion wise, there are such cute glasses!

Psst...

Hi.

I don't know how often I'll be posting on this blog in the next few months because most of my attention is on The Artist's Way journey I'm documenting on my other blog.

Frankly, it's consuming most of my "blogging" time.  And since I'm not a good multi-tasker, I keep forgetting that I have this blog.

So, check over there if this blog seems deserted.

P. S. But, I'll probably keep updating the books I'm reading on the sidebar of this blog.  (That is, when I remember I have this blog.)  So, there is that.

A Letter to Myself

First, let me preface by saying that I (sometimes) (often) (all the time) separate myself into different categories when thinking or speaking about myself. (And yes, I know this seems a bit loony.) For example, there’s Past Liz, Present Liz, and Future Liz; there’s Work-Week Liz, Weekend Liz, and Vacation Liz; there’s Business Liz, Leisure Liz, Party Liz, and Party-Avoidance Liz; and there’s Morning Liz, Day Liz, and Night Liz. Just to name a few…


Now, with that explanation out of the way, here’s a letter Morning Liz recently (as in today) composed for Night Liz:

Dear Night Liz,

I’ll be brief since you have the attention span of a gnat on dope.

You’re killing me! Really. You are.

Do you have any regard for how early I have to get up?

Do you think I like rushing around in the morning because I hit snooze one too many times?

Do you know what it’s like to wake up already exhausted?

Of course you don’t! You leave that all for me to deal with.

And I’m really starting to hate you for it. A deep, passionate, loathsome hate.

So please, I beg of you, keep this in mind tonight when you think of starting French lessons at 10:00pm, or that 11:45pm is the perfect time to begin a puzzle.

If you don’t, I’ve already talked to Mid-Afternoon Liz, and she’s fully prepared to take a sleeping pill or two in order to avoid you all together.

Heed my warning!

Curtly,

Morning Liz

P.S. Don’t be surprised if you get a letter from Day Liz. She also has a bone to pick with you.

Calling London

[I wrote this post about a week ago, and then promptly forgot about it. But, since I’m still ruminating over my discomfiture, I decided to post it.]


So, if you know me, you know I hate calling people.

It’s not that I’m afraid they’ll answer. I WANT them the answer.

What causes me distress (and possibly night terrors) is the fear that they won’t answer, which then means I’ll have to leave them a message. (Or hang up, as I’ve been known to do. Sorry.)

You see, I leave THE WORST MESSAGES IN THE WORLD! (And by worst, I mean messages that embarrass me.)

For some reason, as soon as I hear the BEEEEEEEP, I become the most long-winded, rambling, idiotic person on earth. And before I know it, instead of asking what I called for, like, “What time does the movie start?” I have opined on the state of the union, mentioned that the last mixtape I made had the song “Together Forever” on it, revealed how I wish my five-year plan included being a busker, and questioned the validity of calling something that squirts out of a can “cheese.”

Needless to say, anytime I have to make a phone call to someone who doesn’t know me (and won’t find my three-minute pontifications endearing), I write down what to say in case I must leave a message.

This is what I should have done when I recently called my favorite bookstore, Slightly Foxed Books,* in London (I have never been to this bookshop, but fantasize about it in inappropriate quantities).

Smartly, I did come up with things that IABSOLUTELYMUSTNOTMENTION, such as:

1) Some of my English ancestors came over as indentured servants and maybe that’s why I abhor participating in manual labor,

2) How it was okay that they (the English) lost the war (Revolutionary), because it all worked out in the end with multiple holidays to celebrate for all, and

3) That I easily fall into an English accent whenever I watch (or think about) Pride and Prejudice, or North and South, and would they like to hear it, and could they give me tips on making it more believable?

Connected to this, I also warned myself that I should NOT use an English accent while leaving the message (wanted to), and that I should also NOT include any English-y words that I love but that we don’t really use in America, like: barrister, nutter, posh, gobsmacked , daft, petrol, knackered, and lorry etc.

Thankfully, I did not say/do any of these things.

But, here’s what I did say (to the best of my recollection (which is pretty good since I’ve been obsessing about it ever since)) after I heard their “Leave a message” message (which was said in the most beautiful Female English accent and sounded very posh):

“Oh my gosh, I got through! I’m calling London! Hi! I’m Liz! Elizabeth Wolfe! From America! The U. S. A.! I ordered books from you! And I was told to call and leave a message authorizing payment! So, I’m calling! My name is Elizabeth Wolfe! W. O. L. F. E.! I don’t know my order number! Dang it! Where’s my paper!? [Long pause while looking for receipt] Okay! I ordered three books! The names are… [Long pause while finding the names of the books only to realize that I wasn’t sure how to pronounce the first title (I couldn’t remember if the “s” in Libris, as in “Ex Libris” was silent. (It’s not.)) So not wanting to sound stupid (too late) I say the following…] Well, they’re books! [Insert embarrassing giggle] Of course they’re books! You’re a bookstore! [Awkward snort] I’m sorry! I’m flabbergasted!**** Again, my name is Elizabeth Wolfe! I think I already mentioned that! And my number is [gave them my number faster than the speed of light]. Thank you for all that you do! I love your book review!”

When I got off the phone, I immediately went and told my sisters that I shamed America.

And in case you’re wondering, the exclamation points are intentional because I feel like I spoke in excited tones the entire message.

Also, in case you’re wondering, do you know how much it costs to call London? I do. The first minute cost me $3.10, and the next two minutes cost $5.78. Three-minute rambling call = $8.88

Lesson learned.

Always write down your messages Liz! Elizabeth Wolfe! From America! The U. S. A.!

[Sigh.]





*Why is this my favorite bookstore (aside from the fact that I’m an Anglophile)? Because they publish a fabulous, and I mean FABULOUS, quarterly magazine. Anyone who puts out such a wonderful book review can only be awesome, and worthy of my esteem.**

** When I finally go to England [gazing at the heavens in silent prayer and oblations], Slightly Foxed is on my list of MUSTS, right under Stonehenge. ***

***If you ever go to London, and visit Slightly Foxed Books, please only tell me that it’s wonderful and magical and dazzling! Don’t tell me that it’s just a regular bookstore, with regular books, and regular people. I’ll be crushed. Let me have my fantasies.





****In the back of my mind, I feel like I said the word lambasted, instead of flabbergasted. But, since I meant to say flummoxed, instead of flabbergasted in the first place, I’m just pretending that the whole thing didn’t happen.

And So It Begins…

Follow my Artist’s Way journey here and spark your creativity!


And stay tuned on this blog for more zany adventures…

Well, maybe not zany, or particularly adventuresome, but definitely something that happened or occured to me (or someone I know) at some point in time that might be low to moderately interesting.

Does that sound exciting?

Hrumph.

I’m already bored.

A Creative Endeavor, Cont'd

.....There on my bookcase, partially blocked by my miniature replica of Westminster Abbey, was a book I had purchased years before and had half-heartedly attempted to follow.

But, now, I knew I was ready! So, I went to the bookcase and pulled out The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron.

Do you have this book? Have you heard of it?

You probably have. It’s sold over a million copies.

But, in case you haven’t, here’s the gist:

Only you can remove your creative blocks. You remove them by tapping into the creative power of the Creator/Universe/God/Zeitgeist/however you define it.

These blocks prevent you from not only creating art as society has come to define it (like painting, writing, singing, dancing, etc), but they also block you from living more creative daily (like figuring out a solution to a work issue, or developing fuller and fun-er relationships).

Creativity can heal you, and heal those around you. And tuning in to your creativity can change how you view your world, making each day more exciting. (And who doesn’t want that?!)

And The Artist’s Way helps you challenge your blocks and break through them!

Now, before you say, “But, um, I’m not creative”, you need to remember that creativity is our birthright, and in every one of us. So, while you may not be writing a novel or painting your family portrait, you’re probably choosing what you wear each day (and accessorizing), or making up a story for your child, or coming up with a new way to spice up your spaghetti sauce, or changing the layout of your living room, or re-telling an incident that occurred at work (with gestures and voices). THAT IS CREATIVITY!!!

One of my favorite quotes from her book is “[A]s we are creative beings, our lives become our artwork” (Cameron, p. xxvi).

I don’t know about you, but I’ve never thought about my life as being my artwork! What an inspiring idea! And I’m ready for the challenge to make it more colorful.

Are you?

The Artist’s Way is a 12 week course. And Julia (I’m going to call her by her first name because it sounds like we’re friends) makes two requests that must be fulfilled during the 3 months:

1) You must write three pages, first thing every morning. This she calls “Morning Pages.” You are not to show these pages to anyone and you are to write whatever comes to mind (even if nothing comes to mind). Ramble away!

2) You must have a weekly “Artist’s Date.” This date should be between 1 to 2 hours long and should be done solo. It doesn’t have to cost anything, but it should delight you!

Both of these things are going to be tough for me because:

1) I’m not a morning person. So waking up earlier, just to write poorly, is going to be a challenge.

2) While I don’t mind going places or doing things by myself, I’m not so good at following through when I’m not held accountable by others (especially when my pajamas are calling my name).

But, I’m going to do it. There’s a contract in the book and I’m going to sign it!

Now, along with these two requirements, she has weekly exercises to pick and choose from. Julia suggests you pick the ones that make you the most uncomfortable. So, that’s what I’m going to do.

At this point, if you’re still reading, you might be asking yourself “Why are you telling me all this?”

Good question.

To be honest, I wasn’t going to mention it. It was just going to be something I did for myself, by myself. But last week, as I was discussing this book and it’s concepts with my friend, Taryn, she suggested that I should blog about it, and that perhaps it might inspire someone else to try something creative. And she’s absolutely right! (Plus, it helps me with accountability. Bonus!)

So, if you’re interested, I’m starting next week (on Monday, of course). I’ll being posting about the exercises I choose, the struggles I have, the discoveries I make, and my weekly Artist Date. My plan is to post all this on my sad, lonely, and forgotten blog. (I want to leave this blog open for all my other witty thoughts…..… [crickets chirping]……… [hollow wind blowing]……… [……….]………)

If you want to try this with me, great! I would love for you to share this journey with me.

But, more than that, I hope you realize that you have the option of injecting creativity into your life any time you choose.

Choose now!

A Creative Endeavor

Let me ask you a question:

How creative is your life?

Very? Not very? Huh?


Now, let me ask you a slightly different question:

How creative are YOU in your life?

A little? A lot? What?


Okay, let me ask you a third question:

Would you like more, and to be more, of it? (Creative, that is.)

Yes? No? Maybe?


Now, let me tell you why I’m asking.

Before I started Grad school two years ago, I was dabbling in creative things. I was working on my mixed media art, I was taking online art workshops, I had started a blog about my poetry/fiction writing, and I was frequenting dozens of creative blogs for inspiration and community.

But, then, I started school.

And with that, everything else “superfluous” took a back seat (or in some cases, was dropped off at my parent’s house, never to be seen again.)

That’s how it remained from August of 2009 through June of 2011 when I graduated. (Hooray!)

But instead of falling back into my creative endeavors, I did the opposite.

Now, yes, a break was needed. So, I told myself that it was perfectly fine to take a few weeks to decompress from the stress of it all. (And by decompress, I mean sit around doing nothing but watching TV in my pajamas. (And I may or may not have put on said pajamas as soon as I got home from work. (What?)))

After about a month, though, I realized that while I felt much more relaxed due to my nightly three-hour pajama-wearing TV time, I was slowly turning into a lifeless person with nothing to talk about but what so-in-so did on such-and-such TV show*. I had nothing to say about my actual life. (Except that work was fine, but busy.)

With that startling (and depressing) realization, I’ve been on a search for other things to occupy my time, and actually help me to improve my skills and interests as a person.

Now, don’t get me wrong, TV has taught me a few things that have added to my life, but by its nature, TV is passive. I observe. I don’t engage. But what I realized I was longing for was improvement by doing, by taking action, by living!

After this epiphany, I started setting parameters (because that’s how I am). I wanted to do something that wasn’t too hard, wasn’t too time-consuming (I still have shows to keep up with, after all), and didn’t cost a lot of money.

But, I wanted whatever it was to push me out of my comfort zone, challenge me creatively, and increase my daily joy.

All of this has been marinating in my head for the past month, and it wasn’t until last Monday night as I was contemplating my situation (which might have been while wearing my pajamas and during the commercial break of a well-known gossip show), I looked over to my bookcase and something caught my eye.


Eureka!



TO BE CONTINUED TOMORROW BECAUSE THIS POST IS ALREADY WAY TOO LONG…





*Part of my TV viewing was shows on the Documentary Channel. Do you have this? It’s fabulous! Next time you see me, ask me about some of the documentaries I’ve watched. I will regale you with stories about fascinating people: like people who stare at the sun for energy, or the boy who looked for his invisible girlfriend, or the Mountain Talk folk, or what luminaries of our time have to say about forgiveness, or… **

**On second thought, you may not want to ask me. I’ve counted up and in the last three months I’ve watched 27 documentaries. It might be best to keep that door shut.

Guilty or Not Guilty

A couple of months ago, I did my civic duty and sat on a jury for two weeks. It was a criminal case, and it was my first experience as a juror. I can’t tell you all the details yet (most of which are boring) because we were given a court order to not discuss or sell the rights to the story for 90 days after the verdict (really, truly). But, as soon as that time is up, I’m planning on writing a proposal to the Lifetime “Television for Women” network*. (They probably won’t want it as the case was about fraud, and therefore, mind-numbingly dull).

I learned many things from my time in court: about humanity, about justice, and most importantly, about the need for proper footwear.

I compiled a baker’s dozen list for you all, so you can be better prepared for when it’s your turn.

Things I Learned from Sitting on a Jury:

1. They (the court system) let just about anyone sit on a jury.
2. This is terrifying.
3. There were a number of questionable (in intelligence and morality) people on my jury.
4. I do not ever want to be judged by a jury (see #1 and #3).
5. You should not wear flip flops while sitting on a jury.
6. Unless you have a back-up pair of flip flops to change in to when your original pair rips while walking into the courthouse.
7. Or, you should have duct tape in your car (like your dad told you) so that you can make flip flop repairs.
8. The Court security team and scanning process do not flag people who carry an entire roll of duct tape in their purse.
9. This scares me.
10. There are moments when hearing the law read is so boring you lose the will to live.
11. You can really practice your doodling skills while sitting on a jury (and, of course, still pay attention).
12. Judging someone and sending them to jail for a long time is not as fun as it looks on TV.
13. There are a lot of cute police officers.

Heed my advice, folks. (Especially about proper footwear.)






*The title of the made-for-TV movie based on this case would be “A Man of Many Names, but One Love”.

For Hannah

So, on my last post, Hannah left the most hilarious comment that I decided to use her 4 blog post suggestions.

Here are my responses (in bold):

1) Sometimes when the moon is full and the sky is clear I like to drink a hot chocolate (the spicy Mexican kind) and remember the time I used to not like the spicy Mexican hot chocolate. The year was 2010, I remember it well mostly because it was last year, and I have a fairly good short-term memory, but also because that was when Mark Paul Gosselaar adopted a feathered-haired pastafarian child from Nauru with the help of UNICEF. (Though, I may have him confused with someone else doing something else.) Inspired by this, I embarked on my own adventure to adopt a feathered hairstyle, and then decided to cover up my folly with a pastafarian strainer “hat,” which I went to purchase at Walmart (sponsored by UNICEF). There I witnessed a murder (of human courtesy) in the aisle of a clearance sale over some plastic jewels a young man had stolen by dropping them down the back of his grandmother’s sweatervest, and the ruckus of said murder (of human courtesy) ruined, even further, my poor execution of Farah’s iconic hairstyle. During my harrowing/other-worldly/soul-withering experience, I learned the important life lesson of dance, namely, that it should not be done in the aisle of a clearance sale at Walmart. I laughed, I cried, I contemplated the meaning of life, but most important of all, I wrote it all down for Hannah.

2) If I had to choose between being Grace Kelly or Dolly Parton I would choose Grace Kelly. Obviously it's a tough choice, but ultimately I picked Dolly Parton, because although I initially picked Grace Kelly, who am I kidding! I don’t think I could pull off any of the Grace Kelly-type traits she’s known for, such as, repose, elegance, beauty, femininity, style, or, well, grace. So, I’ll have to go with Dolly Parton. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying Dolly doesn’t have any of the same qualities as Grace Kelly, I’m sure she does. But, she can cover up anything she lacks with a banjo and sass. My favorite part about being Dolly Parton, would be gaining free access to her/my amusement park. Having been there, I can say there are A LOT of banjos and sass (and deep-fried goodies and wig shops and overalls and elderly folks).

3) My five favorite things right now are:

Angels

Bacon

Pompoms

Obscure references to Nicola Tesla

Suspenders

My five least favorite things right now are:

Mutton Chops (unless your Wolverine, natch)

Turning left

Obvious references to Nicola Tesla

Unhelpful people trying to be helpful, but making things worse, and then pretending like it wasn’t their fault, but you know that they know that it totally was

Weather

4) Here is a video of a young Irish girl playing the accordion the way I wish I could. I haven't made a video of me yet, because I’m not sure the world is ready for “When the Saints Come Marching In” dirge-style. It might make people chuck themselves off buildings in sadness/repulsion. As soon as I can pick up the tempo, I’ll video it. And then you can try not to be super jealous Hannah. In the meantime, watch the video and practice your jig in preparation of my upcoming performance. That's what I'm doing.

Thanks for these blog post suggestions, Hannah! If anyone else has some for me, leave a comment. I’m desperate for inspiration…

Sister, You Know Me Well…

A brief conversation I had with my sister last night:

Me: (Entering the living room where Becca is watching TV) Well, I just had an impulse buy. You’ll never guess what it was…

Becca: Was it a musical instrument?

Me: Maybe

Becca: Was it an accordion?

Me: Yes…

Becca: Well, you can’t store it out here. We already had to find a space for your harp and your Bodhran.

Me: Fine, I’ll put the Concertina in my room by my Ukulele.

Was I alive in 2009?

So, to rally myself, and shake off the “my life is completely devoid of purpose and meaning” funk that I’ve been in the last six eight months, I’ve decided to post the TOP FIVE HIGHLIGHTS OF 2009 to make the year not seem like a waste.

Here they are, in no particular order*:


1. In January, my nephew, Liam, was born! I call him General Lee. Why? It’s not because I’m wishing the Confederates had one the war, or because I’m a big Dukes of Hazard fan, but because he reminds me of the Little Rascals kid, Spanky, who was in a movie called “General Spanky.”** (They both have chubby cheeks on a big round face.) Adorable!***

Take a look for yourself!

Spanky Liam


2. Got my yellow belt in Nunchucks! Granted, I sort of feel it was a pity belting, but I’ll take it! Nunchucks was a blast, and made me realize how much I love to make sound effects when I hit things! (This probably has something to do with being an Aunt to only nephews. I can make car revving sounds, ninja attack sounds, gun firing sounds, subsequent dying sounds, etc. with the best of ‘em!)

3. Went and saw the Dalai Lama. Really, it was quite an amazing experience. So many different people, so many monks, so many incense odors! He was quite funny and personable. And I even took orders to be a lay Buddhist monk.****

4. Started graduate school. It’s killing me, and I hate the homework, but, I do feel glad I have something new to share when people ask me what I’m up to. (Not that I go into detail about it. I mean, who wants to hear about “organizational theory”? No one. Not even me.)

5. Joined an art gallery. This was a major step for me. Just talking to other artists, (whose work actually hangs in a gallery), about my work (that is actually stacked in my closet) was hard. And to even be contemplating submitting it for a show makes me choke on phantom paint fumes.


Okay. So the year wasn’t as bad as I thought. Here’s hoping that 2010 gives me a TOP TEN! (And I hope the same thing for you to!)




*Well, actually they’re in date order. So, I lied.

**I tried to look for a clip of it on Youtube, because it’s a darling little movie. But, I’ve just learned that you really shouldn’t type in anything related to “spanky” on Youtube. Learn from my mistake!

***For next year, I’ll be able to add my new little nephew, Jackson, born just last week! Also, adorable!

****Technically, Becca pointed out that it was just to be a lay Buddhist, but, I liked the monk idea. Better robe options.

Friday Ventalation...

Q: Liz, what have you been doing the last few months?

A: Nothing.

Q: Liz, what are you going to be doing in the next 10 weeks?

A: 9 papers = 60 pages = 21,000 words

Reading 8 books on various forms of leadership and management (Yippy!)

Digesting and dissecting 37 scholarly articles

Preparing 2 half-hour oral presentations

Enduring 1 group project




Grad school is bad.
Liz very sad.
No fun to be had.

What’s Playing on Your Radio?

Having been requested to make a post, (even though I have absolutely nothing to say), I’ve decided to make a list of all the bands/singers I don’t like that everyone else on the planet does.

Now, before you read the list, a few disclaimers:

1) This list is not comprehensive. I dislike many more bands, but decided to just stick with 10 so I don’t completely alienate my friends.

2) There is probably at least ONE song from each that I DO like. I just can’t think of it right now.

3) I have no idea why I don’t like them. I just don’t. Maybe it’s me? Maybe it’s them? It’s a mystery.

4) This list is in no particular order. Just wrote it as they came to me.

5) Please still be my friend.

With that, here’s my list for “BANDS OR SINGERS THAT I DON’T LIKE AND WILL CHANGE THE RADIO STATION ON IF THEIR SONGS ARE PLAYED”

1. Matchbox 20

2. Dave Matthews Band

3. Maroon 5

4. John Mayer

5. Jason Mraz

6. Red Hot Chili Peppers

7. Jack Johnson

8. Pearl Jam

9.Bon Jovi

10. Lenny Kravitz

There you go!*

Now, if this doesn’t prove that I have nothing to talk about…






*Please still be my friend.

Liz? Are you there?

No, I'm not.



I'm feeling done with the whole blog thing. And Facebook*. And Myspace**. Etc.



I'm only having small thoughts, now. Enough for a Twitter*** post or two.



And even that's a stretch...

*I've never really participated in this.

**Or this.

*** And I have very particular thoughts on what should be a Twitter post. Is it funny? Weird? Witty? Insightful? Strange? Then post about it.

On My Walk Today…

Jehovah’s Witnesses!


Hurray! The best walk ever!!*




*And I mean this sincerely. If you know me, you know there is nothing I like better than a good Jesus discussion, especially when said discussion is from good people trying to save my soul**! I was only sad that I couldn’t chat with them more, but I was on a break and had to get back to work…


**This reminds me of a post I've been meaning to blog about: my TV pastor! Cause I have one, and I watch him every Sunday. And I've even ordered his book and am on his one month program! I've got a bracelet to prove it and everything!***


***Don't worry, I'm not converting. I'm just trying to understand how people believe what they believe (or don't believe, for that matter). This gives me something to think about when I'm in nursery...

Q: How Big is a Mini Fridge?

A: Not as big as Mary Poppins’ purse. (Despite what my co-workers think.)

____________

So, at my office we have a mini fridge. You know, to hold our lunch. Or maybe an afternoon snack.

But, some of my co-workers get confused by this, and think that it’s for their entire weekly groceries. I mean, why hassle making a sandwich to bring to work, if you can store everything needed to make a sandwich at the office?

This irritates me greatly.

All I want to do is place my DAILY lunch in the fridge, and I have to smash it in there because a co-worker bozo has decided to store an entire glazed ham.

Don’t believe me?

Here are just some of the things I’ve found in the fridge*, hogging up precious space:


1. A gallon of milk
2. 3 heads of lettuce
3. 12 pack of burritos
4. 8 apples
5. A week’s worth of frozen meals
6. A loaf of bread
7. A whole Rotisserie chicken
8. A watermelon
9. A gallon of orange juice
10. 5 lbs. of pasta salad




I tell you, if tomorrow comes, and I can't fit in my PB&J, I’m going to have a Nervy B.**!!!




*Not that I’m keeping track, or anything, out of bitterness…

**Nervous breakdown. Any Georgia fans out there?

How did your day start?

Here’s the 10 step process for mine, in case you want to repeat it (and forewarning, it includes a bad word, and I mean a real one, not like “d*mn” or “h*ll” which are mild four-letter words by comparison. But, I had to include it because it’s a direct quote.):


1. Hit snooze 7 times. (Yes, 7. I know, that’s ridiculous. I’m actually only supposed to hit it 5 times (still ridiculous) which leads to my problem this morning.)

2. Wake up and realize that I’m 20 minutes late because of extra snoozing. (Really, 18 minutes late. Which reminds me: Why is snooze only 9 minutes? Do they think we need a minute to realize what the beeping* is and shut it off?

3. Run around like a wacko trying to get ready.

4. Leave my apartment and drive away while forgetting a) my breakfast I had premade, b) my lunch I had premade, and c) my purse. (Got my keys, though!)

5. Rush to work in a panic (while still observing most of the traffic laws) because I’m late and have an 8am meeting. (I mean, really, who has an 8am meeting on a Friday? That should be against the code of work ethics or something.)

6. Park and get out of my car at 7:59am. (This is also when I realize that I’ve forgotten my purse.)

7. Walk briskly to my building.

8. Get pooped on by a bird, but not notice it.

9. Enter my office, see my boss give me a funny look, think it’s about being late, say “I know I’m late, you would not believe my morning.” And hear her response “Well, if it’s anything like the sh*t you have on your shirt, it must have been bad.”

10. Endure being laughed at by other meeting attendees while I explain why I have a wet spot on my shirt and apologize for being 15 minutes late.




*I actually don’t wake to beeping. I can’t stand that! I wake to the sound of ocean waves which I can hear despite wearing earplugs and having 3 fans on in my room**.

** Have I mentioned that I’m a light sleeper? Slumber parties were NOT my friend. (In fact, I still avoid them for this very reason.)

The Animal World is Conspiring Against Me!

On my walk yesterday…



Me: (Thinking to myself) “Man, that’s a HUGE dog in that yard!”

Taking a few more steps while having a flashback to the time when I was attacked by a dog*…

Me: “Wait. Did that dog just step on to the side walk? He’s not chained up?”

Taking a few more steps…

Me: “Uh-oh, he’s in the street, now. What do I do?”

Taking a few more cautious steps…

Me: “Okay, he’s on the other side of the street. Don’t panic! Just keep walking. Stay your course, Liz!”

Taking a few more steps…then stopping with dread…

Me: “Dang!! I think he sees me!!!! Do I run? Will that cause him to chase me? What would Cesar Millan do? No, no…I must remain dominant! Keep walking, Liz!”

Taking a few more HESITANT steps…

Me: “HOLY CRAP!! He’s running to me!!!!!!! He’s gone feral!!!!!!!!”

Stopping in panic as the Rottweiler JUMPS ON ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Me: (saying out loud while trying not to lose control of my bowels) “Ahg!!!!! Crap!!!! Get off!!!!”

Stepping back so dog falls off my chest…

Me: (Looking down at the muddy paws on my white shirt) “Really!”

Taking a few more steps forward to try to get AWAY from the dog…

Me: (saying out loud) “Stop licking my hands!”

Taking a few more steps while noticing that the dog is bleeding from his ear…

Me: (Thinking to myself) “Is there blood on my pants?”

Taking a few more steps, realizing the dog is FOLLOWING ME!

Me: “Great. Now what do I do? Clearly he’s injured. But, I have office responsibilities. I can’t hide him in my cubicle…”

Taking a few more steps with the dog by my side…

Me: “I’ll just ignore him. He’ll go away…”

WALKING AN ENTIRE BLOCK WITH THE DOG BY MY SIDE, LICKING MY HANDS…

Me: “Crap.”

Continuing to walk when I notice a mother (giving me the stink-eye) and two little kids…

Mother of Kids: (In a rude tone) “You should really keep your dog on a leash!!”

Me: (Not knowing how to respond without going into a diatribe) “I know.”

Walking ANOTHER block with the dog by my side, NOT licking my hands because I’m holding them up (and looking stupid)…

Me: (Thinking to myself) “How am I going to get rid of him?”

Taking a few more steps, and seeing a stick…

Me: “Maybe if I chuck this stick?” picking up stick and throwing…

RUNNING AROUND THE CORNER AS FAST AS MY CHUBBY LEGS CAN CARRY ME (WHILE THE DOG RUNS IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION)…

Me: (heart palpating from physical exertion and mental stress) “Please don’t let him follow me!”

Walking as fast as I can towards my office while looking over my shoulder for the dog…

Me: “Maybe he’s not coming! Yes! My stick throwing diversion worked!”

Still walking as fast I can towards my office while looking over my shoulder for the dog…

Me: “He was kind of a cute dog…maybe I could keep him? What would Flo*** say?”

Entering my office out of breath, covered in muddy paw prints, hair frizzled, and sorta wishing I had a dog…

Me: “I think I’d name him Stanley.”




*I was five, and coming home from kindergarten when I was pinned in the middle of the street by a huge** vicious dog. A neighbor lady witnessed the attack, came to rescue me, and took me to my mom.
**Okay, it was a dachshund. But, HUGE to a scared five-year-old girl!
***My little old lady apartment manager.

On My Walk Today…

Me: (thinking to myself) “Jeez, those squirrels are awfully close to the path.”

Taking a few more steps…

Me: “They’ll probably move as I get closer.”

Taking a few more steps…

Me: “Huh? They’re not moving. What’s wrong with them?”

Taking a few more steps…

Me: “Maybe they’re rabid and planning to attack me!!”

Taking a few more steps… while contemplating the scene I would make as I scream across the field with two squirrels caught in my hair, and what my plan of action would be to dislodge them*…

Me: “They’re only a foot away, now! What the? Oh, wait…looking around embarrassed… they’re having a moment of intimacy.”

Taking a few more steps…

Me: “Great. Now I feel like a dirty peeping tom. Why can’t I ever walk in peace?!”


*Swat at them, of course!