UPDATE FROM THE FRONT:
The virus, germ, bacteria, bug, whatever that's been attacking my family is officially in "retreat" mode. Hurrah for the good guys! We have withstood the assault and are now truly on the mend.
[insert patriotic song of your choice]
Unfortunately, the battle has left Mama Writer with piles of work that require immediate action. Consequently, blog postings might be sporadic for the next few days.
I leave you today with the body of a recently posted "men seeking women" advertisement on our local Craigslist.org page. Please feel free to rip it apart... I find it most disturbing as well as more than a little bit pathetic.
********************************************************************************
Subject Line: I watched you excersize - Fairfield Inn - m4w - 40
Text:
Hi, I was in the pool, I watched you work out around 9:30 pm, I am staying in the same place, if you would like to share a cup of tea and some company ring my room #216, we are on briarsdale road, I was the only one there, 5 11 190 short hair, 40.
***************************************************************
If you were that woman, would you feel comfy-cozy contacting this stranger who "watched you" "excersize"?
YIKES.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Friday, November 2, 2007
Rust, Orange, Brown, Gold
Autumn has always been my favorite time of year. The changing colors of the leaves, that crisp, sweet-smelling breeze, the evenings curled up with plenty of blankets and a hot drink... ahhhhh.
In the spirit of this delicious season, my son and I decided to make a side trip yesterday while driving back home from my mother's house (where he was spoiled for two days and I got some time to work and rest.) Our adventure took us to my alma mater, Bucknell University.
Let me first say that when I went to college (dinosaurs roamed the earth at the time, by the way), the campus was a little smaller. As always seems to happen, the university has grown by a few buildings in the past decade-and-a-half (as have my hips since graduation.) But it's still much as I remembered.
However, the one difference was that I no longer felt "out of place" as I did when I attended classes there.
At the time, I was "finding myself" in a typical late-teen way. I just couldn't quite get a toe-hold in the social life at Bucknell, though, so I ended up only living there for two semesters and then commuting from my family's home for my last three years, a decision I now somewhat regret but which seemed appropriate at the time.
In any case, although Bucknell and I didn't bond emotionally, I received an excellent liberal arts education there. A few teachers really "stood out", one of whom I had the privilege to see yesterday during our impromptu "college tour '07".
Dr. Jean Peterson.
Just writing her name makes me grin.
Jean was one of the most outstanding instructors I have had (or ever will have, I imagine.) Her love for teaching English literature (especially Shakespeare) was evident, and the energy she brought to the classroom was palpable. I can actually remember thinking, "If I ever have the opportunity to instruct, I want to be this dynamic!" And now that I teach acting and modeling, I try to "channel" her spirit on those days when I feel less-than-peppy.
When I all-too-briefly spoke with Jean yesterday, it seemed as if no time had passed, though it absolutely has. (Could it really be thirteen years?) She's still very young in appearance, always smiling and extremely sincere. It was the highlight of our Bucknell trip to have the chance to tell her how much she meant (and means) to me. Ironically, it was her birthday, so we were able to offer cheery wishes to her.
Driving home amidst the falling foliage, my soul was filled with joy. My son and I talked non-stop (despite the laryngitis that's been coming and going for me) and it was evident we both were moved in some way by our experience.
Autumn.
You never know what magical moments will occur before those first snow flurries begin...
In the spirit of this delicious season, my son and I decided to make a side trip yesterday while driving back home from my mother's house (where he was spoiled for two days and I got some time to work and rest.) Our adventure took us to my alma mater, Bucknell University.
Let me first say that when I went to college (dinosaurs roamed the earth at the time, by the way), the campus was a little smaller. As always seems to happen, the university has grown by a few buildings in the past decade-and-a-half (as have my hips since graduation.) But it's still much as I remembered.
However, the one difference was that I no longer felt "out of place" as I did when I attended classes there.
At the time, I was "finding myself" in a typical late-teen way. I just couldn't quite get a toe-hold in the social life at Bucknell, though, so I ended up only living there for two semesters and then commuting from my family's home for my last three years, a decision I now somewhat regret but which seemed appropriate at the time.
In any case, although Bucknell and I didn't bond emotionally, I received an excellent liberal arts education there. A few teachers really "stood out", one of whom I had the privilege to see yesterday during our impromptu "college tour '07".
Dr. Jean Peterson.
Just writing her name makes me grin.
Jean was one of the most outstanding instructors I have had (or ever will have, I imagine.) Her love for teaching English literature (especially Shakespeare) was evident, and the energy she brought to the classroom was palpable. I can actually remember thinking, "If I ever have the opportunity to instruct, I want to be this dynamic!" And now that I teach acting and modeling, I try to "channel" her spirit on those days when I feel less-than-peppy.
When I all-too-briefly spoke with Jean yesterday, it seemed as if no time had passed, though it absolutely has. (Could it really be thirteen years?) She's still very young in appearance, always smiling and extremely sincere. It was the highlight of our Bucknell trip to have the chance to tell her how much she meant (and means) to me. Ironically, it was her birthday, so we were able to offer cheery wishes to her.
Driving home amidst the falling foliage, my soul was filled with joy. My son and I talked non-stop (despite the laryngitis that's been coming and going for me) and it was evident we both were moved in some way by our experience.
Autumn.
You never know what magical moments will occur before those first snow flurries begin...
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
* BOO! * (or Bunk?)
I think it's time to tackle a most controversial subject: Are Ghosts Real?
Personally, my answer is an extremely wishy-washy, "I think so." (Nothing like hedging your bets, huh?)
I have written a few articles on hauntings and have long been a firm "believer" that there are things we don't understand about death, life and time.
For instance, could time "overlap" in places, thus causing an "image" of the past (or future?) to appear for a few moments? If so, we might call this a "ghost", even though it could just be a blip in the time continuum.
(It sounds like I know what I'm talking about here, but I really don't. Any scientists are welcome to tell me how this is impossible, improbable or just plain silly!)
Or is it possible that souls CAN communicate from beyond the grave? Is life really over when we take that final breath, power down the neural net and shake off this mortal coil (kudos to The Bard for that last description)? Are we able to intelligently come back to watch over people or try to make amends?
Okay -- your turn.
Are ghosts real? Or are they merely figments of our imaginations, serving some social, cultural, religious and/or spiritual purposes?
Have you ever seen one? Have you snapped a picture and thought you saw something (or someone) in the developed photograph? Or do you say, "BOO!" to the whole idea of someone returning after life as we know it has ceased?
(A quick side note: Though I've always been a fan of ghosts, I've not embraced the notion of angels. Imagine my surprise when both my husband and son told me they felt angels were a real presence. Huh. Blew my mind. You can know people for a while and yet they'll still amaze you.)
Personally, my answer is an extremely wishy-washy, "I think so." (Nothing like hedging your bets, huh?)
I have written a few articles on hauntings and have long been a firm "believer" that there are things we don't understand about death, life and time.
For instance, could time "overlap" in places, thus causing an "image" of the past (or future?) to appear for a few moments? If so, we might call this a "ghost", even though it could just be a blip in the time continuum.
(It sounds like I know what I'm talking about here, but I really don't. Any scientists are welcome to tell me how this is impossible, improbable or just plain silly!)
Or is it possible that souls CAN communicate from beyond the grave? Is life really over when we take that final breath, power down the neural net and shake off this mortal coil (kudos to The Bard for that last description)? Are we able to intelligently come back to watch over people or try to make amends?
Okay -- your turn.
Are ghosts real? Or are they merely figments of our imaginations, serving some social, cultural, religious and/or spiritual purposes?
Have you ever seen one? Have you snapped a picture and thought you saw something (or someone) in the developed photograph? Or do you say, "BOO!" to the whole idea of someone returning after life as we know it has ceased?
(A quick side note: Though I've always been a fan of ghosts, I've not embraced the notion of angels. Imagine my surprise when both my husband and son told me they felt angels were a real presence. Huh. Blew my mind. You can know people for a while and yet they'll still amaze you.)
Monday, October 29, 2007
Recipe for Pull-Yer-Hair-Outism
The Quoibler's Recipe for Pull-Yer-Hair-Outism
INGREDIENTS:
1 super busy week
1 Internet line that fails on a Friday
1 Internet service that won't fix it until Monday
1 bazillion deadlines
1 freelancer without access
1 never-ending cold
DIRECTIONS:
Mix all ingredients together.
Stand back.
Watch explosion.
SERVES:
One heaping helping of frustration.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Yes, blogging friends. (Or should I say "Blends"? Hey! I like that!) In a nutshell, the above recipe culminated in a less-than-relaxing weekend.
Certainly, I did have some fun being "out of touch"; however, it was hardly A Good Thing (to use Martha's "catch phrase" without permission) from a fiscal perspective.
I am hoping for a more pleasant and productive week -- cross your fingers, toes and eyes. I know I will. :P
And now that I've kvetched and moaned, I'd love to hear about the BEST thing that happened to you this weekend! I'm serious! I want to hear positive stuff like random acts of kindness and unexpected checks in the mail. Please dish!
INGREDIENTS:
1 super busy week
1 Internet line that fails on a Friday
1 Internet service that won't fix it until Monday
1 bazillion deadlines
1 freelancer without access
1 never-ending cold
DIRECTIONS:
Mix all ingredients together.
Stand back.
Watch explosion.
SERVES:
One heaping helping of frustration.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Yes, blogging friends. (Or should I say "Blends"? Hey! I like that!) In a nutshell, the above recipe culminated in a less-than-relaxing weekend.
Certainly, I did have some fun being "out of touch"; however, it was hardly A Good Thing (to use Martha's "catch phrase" without permission) from a fiscal perspective.
I am hoping for a more pleasant and productive week -- cross your fingers, toes and eyes. I know I will. :P
And now that I've kvetched and moaned, I'd love to hear about the BEST thing that happened to you this weekend! I'm serious! I want to hear positive stuff like random acts of kindness and unexpected checks in the mail. Please dish!
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Another place, another time
For the most part, I enjoy the fact that I've been given the opportunity to live in the 21st century.
I like the conveniences (even those that are double-edged swords, like greasy fast food.)
I like the advantages of being a part of a flexible culture (did someone say "Internet-based, work-at-home freelance writer"?)
I like the day-to-day experiences of being in the "here and now."
Yet I do sometimes ask myself where I'd choose to be if it couldn't live in this era.
Depending upon my mood, the answer varies.
Sometimes, I fancy myself as a hearty, determined, resourceful pioneer wife, forging ahead into the great unknown. I want to know what it felt like to make food on a hearth, create the family's clothing and "tame" a landscape.
When I'm in other moods, I feel it might have been interesting to live before and during the American Civil War. I can't exactly say why, though. I'd like to think the roots of this daydream are intellectual... but they're more likely based on silly romantic ideals that John Jakes' North and South imprinted upon my psyche years ago.
In what time would you live if you couldn't be in 2007?
Would you jump back to the beginnings of Christianity? The Middle Ages? The Renaissance?
Or would you opt for Greece? Rome? The Far East?
Where in history do you feel your soul would be most be at peace?
I like the conveniences (even those that are double-edged swords, like greasy fast food.)
I like the advantages of being a part of a flexible culture (did someone say "Internet-based, work-at-home freelance writer"?)
I like the day-to-day experiences of being in the "here and now."
Yet I do sometimes ask myself where I'd choose to be if it couldn't live in this era.
Depending upon my mood, the answer varies.
Sometimes, I fancy myself as a hearty, determined, resourceful pioneer wife, forging ahead into the great unknown. I want to know what it felt like to make food on a hearth, create the family's clothing and "tame" a landscape.
When I'm in other moods, I feel it might have been interesting to live before and during the American Civil War. I can't exactly say why, though. I'd like to think the roots of this daydream are intellectual... but they're more likely based on silly romantic ideals that John Jakes' North and South imprinted upon my psyche years ago.
In what time would you live if you couldn't be in 2007?
Would you jump back to the beginnings of Christianity? The Middle Ages? The Renaissance?
Or would you opt for Greece? Rome? The Far East?
Where in history do you feel your soul would be most be at peace?
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
When Bloggers Go Bad
Slap me with a wet noodle. I've been such a naughty blogger! Six days without a post? Terrible, horrible, bad.
Truth is, I have legitimately been consumed with business-related "stuff" -- tons of writing, teaching, performing. All wonderful and stimulating, but I do feel guilty for not popping in to at least say hello to some of my favorite web personalities!
(I haven't even read the horror series that Jason has at Clarity of Night. That's a crime in at least 27 states, I believe. I really should get my tush over there pronto!)
In any case, my absence has made me think more and more about being a good blogger... and how much that's like being a good friend.
See, I'd like to lie to you and say, "I'm the best friend in the whole world." But the truth rests 14.2 million miles away.
Like most people, I get too involved in my own routine to "mix it up" by calling friends, scheduling adult "play dates", or even sending a "hey-no-time-to-talk-but-love-you" email.
It saddens me, but still I persist in this never-ending cycle of weeks without much friend-related communication followed by a sudden burst of information exchange. Then the long days of silence return.
I've heard that others have experienced this phenomenon, especially when they start having children, but that doesn't make me feel much better about the whole thing.
I know that some friends accept this strange way of staying in touch in stops and starts - Susan, Sarah, Joanne. They forgive me for being human. But to be perfectly honest, I've lost other gal pals because of my inability to make them a priority more often.
Okay.
So what does this mean?
I'm not sure.
But I have the feeling that my new year's resolution is going to have to be related somehow to this subject because it's troubling me and has been for a while.
How do you make sure that you don't lose contact with friends? I'd sincerely be interested in hearing.
Truth is, I have legitimately been consumed with business-related "stuff" -- tons of writing, teaching, performing. All wonderful and stimulating, but I do feel guilty for not popping in to at least say hello to some of my favorite web personalities!
(I haven't even read the horror series that Jason has at Clarity of Night. That's a crime in at least 27 states, I believe. I really should get my tush over there pronto!)
In any case, my absence has made me think more and more about being a good blogger... and how much that's like being a good friend.
See, I'd like to lie to you and say, "I'm the best friend in the whole world." But the truth rests 14.2 million miles away.
Like most people, I get too involved in my own routine to "mix it up" by calling friends, scheduling adult "play dates", or even sending a "hey-no-time-to-talk-but-love-you" email.
It saddens me, but still I persist in this never-ending cycle of weeks without much friend-related communication followed by a sudden burst of information exchange. Then the long days of silence return.
I've heard that others have experienced this phenomenon, especially when they start having children, but that doesn't make me feel much better about the whole thing.
I know that some friends accept this strange way of staying in touch in stops and starts - Susan, Sarah, Joanne. They forgive me for being human. But to be perfectly honest, I've lost other gal pals because of my inability to make them a priority more often.
Okay.
So what does this mean?
I'm not sure.
But I have the feeling that my new year's resolution is going to have to be related somehow to this subject because it's troubling me and has been for a while.
How do you make sure that you don't lose contact with friends? I'd sincerely be interested in hearing.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
From Clarketta Kent to Superdudette
I need a pair of glasses.
Of course, I have a pair of glasses and plenty of disposable contact lenses. I'm practically blind without correction. ("Nice puppy..." ~"Mommy, that's a fuming grizzly bear!")
Nearsightedness is a condition I've had since I was around seven and unless I get LASIK, I'm going to have it for the rest of my life.
That's okay.
But I do really need some glasses. Not for what they can do, but what they look like.
See, I want to appear "writer-ish".
Sure, I'm already a writer. I've published plenty and have a list of clients and publications for whom I've worked and am working. I have clips. I have references. I have legitimacy in my field.
Yet I feel a strong desire to LOOK the part of a freelancer.
So I've been asking myself, "What kind of glasses seem most authoritative?"
How about those ones with the rectangular frames? Or perfectly round ones? Or those without any kind of visible frames that just seem to float on the nose?
Maybe pink ones (a la Sally Jessy Raphael... dear lord, is she even still sporting those things?) Or green ones. Or enormous multi-colored frames bought at an Elton John yard sale.
I have this fantasy (and I realize it's just that). If I dress like a writer, I'll write better and more efficiently. I'll get more work. I'll be offered fascinating assignments. And I can finally get a headshot that looks... well... like I'm a "real" writer.
So I need those glasses.
But first, I need to write to pay for them. Nice irony, huh?
Of course, I have a pair of glasses and plenty of disposable contact lenses. I'm practically blind without correction. ("Nice puppy..." ~"Mommy, that's a fuming grizzly bear!")
Nearsightedness is a condition I've had since I was around seven and unless I get LASIK, I'm going to have it for the rest of my life.
That's okay.
But I do really need some glasses. Not for what they can do, but what they look like.
See, I want to appear "writer-ish".
Sure, I'm already a writer. I've published plenty and have a list of clients and publications for whom I've worked and am working. I have clips. I have references. I have legitimacy in my field.
Yet I feel a strong desire to LOOK the part of a freelancer.
So I've been asking myself, "What kind of glasses seem most authoritative?"
How about those ones with the rectangular frames? Or perfectly round ones? Or those without any kind of visible frames that just seem to float on the nose?
Maybe pink ones (a la Sally Jessy Raphael... dear lord, is she even still sporting those things?) Or green ones. Or enormous multi-colored frames bought at an Elton John yard sale.
I have this fantasy (and I realize it's just that). If I dress like a writer, I'll write better and more efficiently. I'll get more work. I'll be offered fascinating assignments. And I can finally get a headshot that looks... well... like I'm a "real" writer.
So I need those glasses.
But first, I need to write to pay for them. Nice irony, huh?
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