Ethics and other silly things...
I'm pretty excited about my blog adventure. This is a fun place for me to write about loose ideas that rattle through my thoughts, cover topics without having to worry about tone, POV, or anything other than just satisfying myself.

However, there are topics etc., where politesse needs to be exercised. And, there's no earthly reason why I should bare my soul online anyway. That whole deal has been done to death, and needlessly hurt people.

After much thought, I realized that I could write about my writing life, albeit in an 18th Century novel style. In other words, I can mention that I'm in the process of interviewing Ms. Z________, or am waiting to hear from the manager of the phenomenal group the L________'s etc., and so forth without getting anyone's knickers in a twist. Obviously, I'm not going to utilize the first initial of their name, but I can blow off steam in a pretty harmless way.

I think with friends, I'll use their name; I mean that's what I call them. If they prefer to remain anonymous -- then I'll edit use either an alias or initial.

In regards to dating, boys and all that...well, I've been nicknaming boys since I was in college, so I'll continue to do that. If I get involved with a boy, there won't be any gory details posted here. What are friends for, if not to call them up and say, "What the hell did that mean??"

Some of my posts will be a place for the internal to find an external home. Some of them will be about my dating or work adventures; most of them will be about me.

I think this'll work out well.

Really Random Thoughts or loose change
...What is so great about wearing high heeled sneakers or workboots? The twain should never meet. It looks circus-like, not in the good Fellini way, just sad.

...Why is it so satisfying when you slide an omlette off the pan and onto a plate?

...Why can't all the psychos who walk around muttering to themselves be paired up? When there's two of them together it looks like they're having a conversation

...Is it just me, or does anyone else look at the weird things they see on the street and think, "performance art"?

...Could someone tell me where all the lost socks go? I'm still waiting for a mate to a pair I've lost two years ago to show up. I have this feeling that once I throw it out, the other one will appear.

...Why can't they have short runway models?? I'm 5 2 1/2 and if I attempted to wear the stuff they showed this past week all you'd see is a tiny head poking out of miles of fabric. NOT FAIR. I'd look like a yorkie trapped in a robe.

...Why can't neccessities be fun instead of boring?

...Why can't I get paid for procrastinating? I do a pretty good job of it.

...Why do I watch my weight? Can't it watch me?

...Why do men always ask women how many pairs of shoes they own? It's not like they're going to borrow them anyway.

...Why do I have to sit still to write my book? Why can't I just rest my head on a ream of paper and let the words fall gently out of my brain. No copy editing needed!

...What is it about the smell of peaches that is so enticing? They smell like summer, earth and delicious parties all wrapped up into one succulent bite.

...Why can't I blink my eyes like Jeanie and all the pots and pans are suddenly clean?

...What do some people insist on using multi-syllabic words (yes, Rose I know the word is polysyllabic, but the other one sounds more fun, okay) to describe things when it's easier to be simplistic? Are they afraid of being thought dumb? I thought brevity was the soul of wit. Do they really know what they're saying or do they just like the sound of their voice?

Juxtapositions et al
I was lying in bed reading the biography of Sam Spiegel by Natasha Fraser-Cavasoni -- I've been switching back and forth from that one to the new biography of Ben Franklin and I realized that both men were very similar, in that they constantly re-invented themselves.

So my mind started wandering and I realized that we all do that. As adults, most of us aren't what we were as children. Maybe there are some traits that stay the same, but at almost any given period in time, we've (hopefully) changed or grown into a different direction.

Some of my friends have grown very far from their roots. Perhaps like a boomerang, they'll return to them. Think of all the hippies in the 70's. Most of them came from middle class households, and now they're back there. Usually with a vengeance--they've become more of a consumer than their parents, more concerned with material things than their forebears. It's funny, in a sad ironic way.

Me--I've definitely changed from who I was when I was small. There are times when I've thought that if I ever met my child-self, my teenage-self, or my college-self, I'd loathe me.

As a child I was frighteningly shy. It was painful to open my mouth and speak in public. One day, I was in fifth grade and as I looked at the blackboard, I realized that I couldn't see it. Instead of raising my hand or saying anything to my teacher, I would sneak up to the board and try to read it very quickly.

When I was a middle schooler I was a horrendous snob. It was a combination of environment and family. Oh yes, don't you hear echoes of that darn "nurture vs. nature" arguement? Yeah, that one always makes me laugh. It's as bad as what came first, the chicken or the egg? I'm now convinced that the entire debate is a bad joke to be played upon unsuspecting people. Sorta like an intellectual prank.

Getting back to middle schoolism -- in a very idiotic way I looked down my tiny nose at so many people and things. It's not until you're an adult that you realize that snobbery is (essentially)insecurity wrapped around in a velvet lined cloak. Why else would one person look askance at another person based on appearance, antecedence or fashion, if not to bolster one's ego?

Laughingly I realized what a little music snot I was when I saw "High Fidelity." I was a member of my college radio station, and like many people who are obsessed with music at that age, if you didn't know seminal and/or obscure bands, labels, sub-sub-sub-genres, you just weren't hipster enough to hang.

I'm watching the movie and I see Jack Black's character interacting with customers and oh! I just wanted to crawl under my seat and hide for, let's say
20 or 30 years. I mean, it's funny now, but damn, I must have been insufferable. What's worse is that there was an entire group of us doing the same thing. What egos we must have punctured, we were so pretentious. Now I can laugh but I think I'd bitchslap college-me.

However, I now understand why adults would give me a funny condescending look when I or my cronies would talk about MUSIC, ART, or anything that seemed to pop out of our mouths in capital letters...because they just knew that when grew up (and hopefully most of us did)that reality would smack us in the face and we'd finally learn that we know nothing at all.

That's the true beauty of life. Everyday is a blank page. Every single day you have a chance to learn something new about yourself, the world and life.

I really like that.

The Paper Question
I've been trying to organize my work self the past couple of days and realized an immutable equation that frightens me. Writer = paper, paper = writer. I mean, if you write you've got papers everywhere. On tables, on the floor, in every room. Most of the stuff is research or press releases or some idle thought that may turn into a pitch...the papers keep growing. And growing. It's almost as if you need a file cabinet for the file cabinet.

It doesn't help that I throw things out, the piles keep growing. Sometimes, I have a nagging feeling that I need a paper copy, then remember I've got an excel workbook.

Okay now that frightens me. I've actually spent time and created a workbook that has all sorts of prof. stuff that I use. My question is, will I remember to use it or continue to hunt for an envelope that I scribbled a note on.

ARGH!