I am sitting at my computer, at the store, listening to the five guys who are still here discuss the length of their penises.
I was thinking of elaborating a bit, but I’ve decided that pretty much covers it.
I am sitting at my computer, at the store, listening to the five guys who are still here discuss the length of their penises.
I was thinking of elaborating a bit, but I’ve decided that pretty much covers it.
I’d never read Breakup Babe’s site until today. But Blogger had this to say about her on the Dashboard page:
Having your heart repeatdly broken, evidently, can be rewarding. Congratulations to our very own Breakup Babe. She just got a book deal with Random House based on her blog. The book will be called Breaking Up, Blogging On. Well done!
The last book I read by a fellow blogger was Why Girls Are Weird by Pamie. It was such a fun story that I stayed up all night reading so I look forward to my next bit of Blogger lit.
When I was a kid, mostly junior high-ish, every girl I knew kept these calendars. They were these cheap little things about the size of a checkbook that you could pick up just about anywhere for a dollar or two. Beneath the shiny plastic cover would be a photo of cute little teddy bears or dolphins or cuddly kittens. Inside, each month had a calendar that spread two pages and included an “inspirational” quote of some kind.
We wrote down everything in those little books. Practically every day was a blob of messy blue ink from the cheap pens we smuggled into school (pencils were the required writing utensil; pens were frowned upon). Back then every event seemed to be filled with such promise. And so were we. Everything that happened was possibly the beginning of something important. Whether it be the first time we had lunch with a new girlfriend or the first time a certain boy spoke to us in the hall. Or maybe it was our first softball practice with the varsity team. It didn’t matter what it was, it was all significant. We would record every event, sometimes in shorthand (in case the parentals happened to get their hands on them), because we just knew that someday we’d want to be able to look back and remember that was the day. Right there. That’s where it all started.
I don’t know exactly when I stopped recording everything like that. But I wish I still did it. I wish I could look at something that happened this morning and actually believe for the ten seconds it would take to write it down that it could be the beginning of something great. But the sad thing is that I just can’t make myself do it. I’ve seen the world’s evil face and I know what tomorrow has to offer. Or maybe I’ve just gotten so bogged down in the way I think things are that I’m failing to see potential all around me.
Either way, I realize now how much happiness is tied to hope. And faith. And how much I need to find some of both.
The last thirty-six hours have been somewhat disheartening for me. Not because Bush was re-elected and “America’s going to hell.” But rather, I am shaken by the flood of derogatory words from a party who claims to be the more accepting of the two. Before I comment on some of the statements I’ve collected, let me say this: I did not vote for Bush. But I didn’t vote for Kerry either. We need election reform in this country in a major way. We need more than just two standardized candidates who will throw around splinters pulled from the planks of their party’s platform. I cast my vote toward the abolition of the two-party system; I voted independent. That being said, let’s move on…
I just can’t believe how freakin brainless and brainwashed a percentage of Americans are.
They’re not “brainwashed” just because they voted for a different candidate than you did. Have a look at the exit polls and see that for an extremely large percentage of voters, “moral values” were the deciding factor. Apparently, these people want a president who espouses those same values.
I feel sick. If only we had let the south secede back in 1860.
So if a group of people have an opinion that’s different from yours, they are no longer worthy to be Americans? How does that fit in with the liberal agenda? I was under the impression that all people were to be accepted and affodred the same inalienable rights set forth in the founding documents of this country. Or does that principle only apply if their beliefs are “progressive”?
4 more years. damn fly over states!
So now mid-westerners are equally ignorant and ill-informed? I’m beginning to see a pattern here. Apparently, your opinion is only relevant if you live in California, New York, or Massachusetts?
This result sucks, but it’s been great to realise how many Americans aren’t the gun-toting, creation-theory teaching scary people the rest of the world sees.
The right to bear arms is in the Bill of Rights for crying out loud. Do you imagine those same “scary people” also expect to be allowed freedom of speech, a speedy trial, and protection from unreasonable search and seizure?
…
I always really struggle with who will get my vote in presidential elections. My views on certain issues are conservative. For example, I believe in a smaller government. I don’t want to hand over a portion of my hard-earned money to fund government programs I may or may not believe in. I paid my own college tuition for the education I needed to get this job and, call me crazy, but I tend to believe the money I make should be mine to do with as I see fit. Does that make me cold? Insensitive to the plight of those less fortunate? Maybe. Probably. But still, it’s my money. I earned it. I should be allowed to spend it.
Let’s look at it from a different angle. I hate turnip greens. The smell, the taste, the texture… the thought makes me nauseous. What if, though, America’s turnip green farmers had a massive surplus? Nobody was buying greens. The farmers and their families are in danger of going hungry, of freezing in cold winter temperatures. So the government decides that every American must go out and purchase X amount of turnip greens in order to take care of the farmers. Well that’s all well and good for the farmers but I just spent $3.99 on food that I am never going to eat.
Another thing we need to understand is that when someone truly believes in a particular god, there is no separation of church and state for them when it comes to forming their opinions. A true Christian or Muslim or Jew holds his beliefs within himself where they undoubtedly will have influence in the voting booth. As a person who was raised Christian, I find it exceptionally difficult to distance myself from what I feel is morally right or wrong when I am choosing a candidate. My instinct tells me to vote for the guy who is against gay marriages and abortion.
But then logic overtakes faith and that’s where my more liberal side comes out. My head tells me that we cannot say that the gay lifestyle is legal out of one side of our mouths and they’re not allowed to marry out of the other. I believe that people are born homosexual and the only argument for not allowing them union is a religious one, one that is strictly prohibited by the constitution of the United States of America. For religious reasons, I feel that abortion, as a rule, is wrong. But I don’t need the government to tell me that. I can decide on my own, thank you very much. And so can every other woman in the US.
I don’t know if I’ve made any sense here or not. But I feel better having had my say.
You represent… loneliness.
Always alone and always sad about it… unlike
angst, you don’t have to look for a reason to
be miserable. You want to be in the company of
people but aren’t sure how to act when you’re
with them. Sometimes you have to make an
effort. You can’t always wait for others to
come to you.
What feeling do you represent?
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If you haven’t, get your butt out there and do it!
And I thought I was going through a dull phase…

My life is rated NC-17.
What is your life rated?
When did it become attractive for a woman not to have boobs? And no butt? And no curves at all? I recall beginning to hear the term “heroine chic” with regard to runway models a few years back and then these girls slowly overtook all my favorite television shows. These girls who, when they strip down for the obligatory on-screen nakedness (as they inevitably do), I can count their ribs… They wear tiny little tee shirts that look like they were made for elementary school girls. Their arms and wrists are so small I’m afraid they’re going to pop and break at any second. It’s disgusting. And I’m sick of it. We are force-fed these images of what women are supposed to look like to the extent that men find nothing else attractive. They watch movies like The Girl Next Door with its strip club scene and Elisha Cuthbert’s bedroom window sideshow and then they walk out into the real world and expect to find a girl like that. This week’s episode of One Tree Hill featured high school girls doing a lingerie fashion show for one another. Smallville’s over-the-top contribution consisted of an ugly duckling with an incredibly bad case of acne who had excessive cosmetic surgery in order to transform herself into a beautiful swan. It took about two seconds from the time she walked into the high school for the boys to be swarming around her. Now I understand that men want a hot woman. But what has become the standard for “hot” makes me sick. A regular girl doesn’t stand a chance with guys who have been conditioned in this way. And what it’s done to the men is not the worst part.
It’s what it has done to us. Women have historically struggled with all types of body-image issues. In the past thirty years the terms “anorexia” and “bulimia” have gone from obscure medical conditions to common knowledge. We compare ourselves to the women in magazines and on television. Even though we know it’s not truly a fair comparison. We know there are countless factors involved in making these “ideal” women appear so. They have personal trainers and stylists and wear $300 jeans. Not to mention photographers who specialize in Photoshop touchups and airbrushing. Yet as long as we are separated from the standards that have been set by even the narrowest of margins, we feel less than. And if we’re over 25, it’s exponentially worse. My point is this: I am sick and tired of trying to be what someone else thinks I should be.
But I can’t get it out of my head.

You’re so depressed… but why? Some people might
call you whiny and annoying, and you are, to
them. You still have people that are willing
to listen to you… right after they’ve been
dumped.
What band from the 80s are you?
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I figured out why I was having such a hard time trying to design my own website. I kept trying to make it all busy and flashy with bright colors, dancing cats, etc. Which was just stupid. That’s not my style when it comes to design work. I’m more of the clean, sharp lines and lots of white space kind of girl. So I went simple. And I’m digging it. I’m still getting all the content plugged in but most of my portfolio is on there (minus the print stuff which is going to take forever to get online) as well as the contact info. If you guys have time, I’d love it if you’d drop by and let me know if you find any dead links, missing pics, etc. Remember though, it’s a work in progress so everything’s not there yet.
Everybody’s jumping on the “Register to Vote” bandwagon the past couple of days. Not to be outdone, I present to you The Votergasm Pledge. Be sure to check out the “9 Steps to Votergasm” cartoon while you’re there.
She always had a joke to tell and after she delivered the punchline, the walls would quiver from her hearty laugh. She worked long hard days hemming tee-shirts in a factory and never once complained. She was a mother not unlike my own. Selfless. Strong. Sympathetic.
Friday nights throughout my childhood were spent with her, making Coke floats and watching Dallas. Every fall she would take my brother and I shopping for “Back to School clothes” and every winter she would fill her tiny living room with Christmas gifts for us all.
She drove a simple gray car and lived in a modest, aging house. The floors creaked with every step she took as she prepared a feast for us every Sunday afternoon. When the February cold whisked through the thin walls, she would leave the oven on and open the door to supplement the heat from the wood-burning stove.
She smelled of almond bark and cherries.
I never heard her speak an unkind word about another living soul, even though life had given her just cause to do so. She was the woman I hope to be someday. She was everything a grandmother should be.
And today would have been her birthday.
Why is it that when working on websites for other people’s businesses it’s all fairly easy for me? The design usually comes quick, followed by some coding and the the inevitable tweaking. But I’ve been trying to design my own site for about a month yet and I just can’t commit to anything. I think I’m putting too much pressure on myself to make it uber and therefore, nothing I’ve done so far looks good enough. I’m about to revert to simple design that will showcase my portfolio and give my rates and contact info and let that be it.
Growing up I remember often thinking that life would be easier when I got older. And I guess some things are. On a lot of levels, I’m more confident. I don’t have to worry about pimples. My parents can’t tell me what to do. I have my own money that I can spend as I see fit. etc. etc. etc.
But what I didn’t count on is that some things get much harder. Like making friends, for example. How exactly does a woman of thirty meet new people? And how does she get to know them to the point of finding out if they have anything in common?
So many things have changed in the past couple of years. Two of my closest friends moved away. Far away. Two others got married. These were the people I hung out with. We were a perfect little circle. To make matters worse, I’m on the other side of a divorce now. And the few new people I meet are either married or in a relationship so that pretty much excludes me. It’s just weird to have the odd singleton in the mix.
But the fact of the matter is, I need to do something about this. Everything I do these days completely revolves around work. The only people I talk to outside of my family are clients and people who come into the store. Well, except for my best girlfriend, M. She’s amazing and the best friend I could hope for. But she lives in a grown up world where I feel like I don’t fit anymore. She has a real family of her own. Husband. Two kids. Cat.
So I realize that I need to fix this. And I want to fix it. I just don’t know how. I’ve considered taking a class at the local university but I’m afraid I’ll stick out as the old person in the class and not meet a soul. I really don’t like going out to clubs and besides, you can’t really meet anybody in a place like that.
Plus, I want to meet a man. A good man. Once upon a time I knew this guy who was attracted to smart girls. He would IM me from work and ask me what I was working on and the more studious it was, the better. And he was crazy for it. Now there were lots of things about him that made that particular guy not good for me. But I really want to believe that there’s a similar one out there who might not need a Barbie doll to be happy. And who I might possibly be able to hold an intelligent conversation with. And maybe, just maybe, he would have a job. But I’m not going to meet him sitting at my computer 18 hours a day.
So I must figure out how to make this happen or I will be destined, as Bridget would say, to die old and alone and eventually be eaten by wild dogs.
I really, really want to watch the premiere of J.J. Abrams new show, Lost, tonight. But it comes on opposite Smallville and the guys are addicted to Smallville. So, I either disappoint everybody else or miss what is probably a much better hour of television. And there’s only one recorder so I can’t fix it that way. I knew I should have replaced my old VCR when it gave out. 😦
You guys may have noticed the new button I’ve added to my site (right). But I also wanted to take a minute to encourage you all not only to look at the button, but to click it. And then download the Firefox browser! If you need reasons, here they are:
There are at least a dozen other reasons, but you guys get the point. Follow the link. Read it all for yourself. And download it. Set it as your default browser and let IE go to that big Recycle Bin in the sky.
And before you ask — No, I’m not on their payroll. Firefox is a community-built application. There is no payroll. How cool is that?
but not me. Our AC unit has frozen up. Repair guy can’t get here until tomorrow, even though we called yesterday. I need a pool right about now.
Or a cold shower.

A friend of mine wrote to say she just received 5 dozen roses from this guy she’s been seeing. They met sixty days ago. He sent her daisies after their first date and later sent sunflowers and two dozen long stem roses. Then today… this.
And that’s not all… according to her he cooks “like a gourment chef”, he cleans, treats her “like a queen” and is a true romantic.
So I guess there’s hope for the rest of us to find a truly good guy. 🙂 Unless he was the last one?! :=\
One of my most hidden secrets is the fact that, as a teenager, I was obsessed with The Monkees (and no, I’m not that old . They showed the re-runs on MTV). They may have actually been the first “boy band” since they were “built” by someone else. They most likely starred in the world’s first music videos. And I don’t care how dorky they may have been to most people, I still say they were cool. And from time to time, they had some most excellent music. Check out these lyrics:
Shades of Gray
When the world and I were young,
Just yesterday.
Live was such a simple game,
A child could play.
It was easy then to tell right from wrong.
Easy then to tell weak from strong.
When a man should stand and fight,
Or just go along.
I remember when the answers seemed so clear
We had never lived with doubt or tasted fear.
It was easy then to tell truth from lies
Selling out from compromise
Who to love and who to hate,
The foolish from the wise.
It was easy then to know what was fair
When to keep and when to share.
How much to protect your heart
And how much to care.
But today there is no day or night
Today there is no dark or light.
Today there is no black or white,
Only shades of gray.
A digital space feat. poetry, prose, art, reviews, and interviews by marginalized creators.
Gillian Glover
Random verse from a digital poet who writes in graphite.
we accumulate vintage stuff faster than we sell it
Writing left handed
I mostly tell stories. About my projects. About my adventures. Occasionally, about art, culture and big ideas.
Motherhood, Art, Creative Play, and Finding Joy in Everyday Life