Ordinary Extraordinary

Kick in the... head?

I had a good day today; read about it over at Butterlfy Fray.

Hiatus

It's hard to believe that I've been blogging for five years, and keeping a personal website for more than twelve. I am a true geek and in internet years, I am Older Than Dirt.

This has been an interesting spring for me. A season that is usually the restful and restorative calm following winter's madness has instead been charged with vigorous (and invigorating) change. I've moved. I've had an epiphany. I've started dating a great guy. I've stepped up my training. I've been doing a lot of thinking about where I've been, and where I want to go and today, my brain feels as though it's bursting with realizations, inspirations, and untapped ideas.

There are those who would argue that blogging is an exercise in discipline and dedication, and most of the time I would agree with them, but right now it just feels like a creative siphon. All of my spare time and energy is devoted to turning the ideas crashing around my head into legitimate project outlines and I just don't have an ounce left over for ordinary extraordinary.

So, rather than feeling guilty about neglecting my blog or posting endless memes and tidbits, I'm taking the month of May off.

I'm attempting to make some extraordinary changes in my life and it's time to narrow my focus for a little while. I owe myself my undivided attention.

Never fear my darlings, I will be back, but in the meantime there are plenty of gems in the archives to keep you entertained. Take a spin through them, won't you?

See you in June!

Preventing Assault

Kevin Apgar has launched his second Grassroots Blogger Book Marketing Campaign for Carly Milne's Sexography, and this time there's a twist:

April is National Sexual Assault Awareness and Prevention Month, and it’s a big month for the Rape and Incest National Network (RAINN). The organization’s goal is to raise enough money to be able to offer victims of sexual abuse, sexual assault and rape an online hotline offering counseling and assistance 24 hours a day, seven days a week. RAINN’s Chelsea Bowers, Kevin Apgar and Sexography author Carly Milne have banded together to launch a one-of-a-kind online fundraising event to help RAINN reach that goal.

So for the month of April, the blogosphere is going to talk about sex to raise money for RAINN. That's win-win, right?

All things considered, my sexual history is largely unremarkable. Certainly there were a few awkward experiences (Um, I don't think it's supposed to do that...) and a few things I wish I'd known earlier (You're married? Really? And when exactly were you planning on mentioning that?), but overall I've been lucky. I've never been raped, molested, abused, or attacked.

My friends have, though.

When I turned 14 or 15 and started to express an interest in boys and dating, my father taught me two things: How to break a man's arm with my shoulder, and how not to fight like a girl - to hit soft, vulnerable tissue as hard as I could with my elbows, knees, and heels. My father is not a violent man, but he is a realist. He was very clear that pleading words or logic would be wasted on an attacker and that the only appropriate response was to fight like a caged wolverine.

Unfortunately, he is absolutely right.

In the fall of my sophomore year of college, my friend S and I went to a party at the TKE house with a bunch of other friends. Being savvy young women, we had a pre-arranged system for staying safe at huge parties; we stuck together. Arrive together, leave together. No exceptions.

This particular party was completely insane; people were packed into the house like sardines and spilling out all over the front and back lawns. S had quickly met up with the guy she'd come to flirt with (a cute second string linebacker from her Calculus class) and dragged him to the middle of the madness to dance, so I stuck to the periphery of the party with a few other friends and kept an eye on S as much as I could.

About an hour later I looked up from a conversation with the guy on whom I had a crush and noticed that S and the linebacker were gone. After scanning the room and finding them absent, I excused myself from Cute Guy and set off to look for them. Since I went to college in the Dark Ages, before everyone had a cell phone, there was no choice but to work my way through the crowd and see if I could find them. I was none too pleased that I had to stop my flirting to go hunting, but it a deal's a deal: we stick together at parties, period.   

I did a lap through the house and started to get concerned when I couldn't find either of them - the party was big, but not THAT big. Thinking that S and the linebacker may have taken off to go get some food or perhaps more beer, I recruited a couple of other friends to keep searching the party while I went to see if her car was still parked on the street.

It was, and they were in it. The linebacker had S pinned to the front seat and she was pleading with him to let her go.

S, the tough-talking Brooklyn girl who used to joke that she kept her acrylic nails long so they'd be more effective weapons, was absolutely frozen in terror and very close to being in a lot of trouble.

I don't know what I yelled when I saw what was happening, but it was enough to startle the linebacker. Though truly, I think he was more startled when I yanked the passenger side door open and hauled him out of the car. We ended up in a scuffle on the ground and I was doing my level best to hit him anywhere that would really hurt. S finally found her voice and screamed for help, which brought Cute Guy and a few other friends running. I'd managed to get a few good shots in, but Cute Guy was nice enough to finish the job: he picked the linebacker up by the collar, punched him square in the jaw, and sent him sprawling on the sidewalk.

I don't know what happened after that, S and I collected ourselves and left quickly, but I do know that the linebacker gave me a WIDE berth every time he saw me on campus for the next 3 years.

Later, when I asked S why she hadn't gouged his eyes out with her nails, she said that she didn't want to hurt him, that he was just drunk - as if that were some kind of excuse for his behavior.

When my father stood in the kitchen and taught me how to fight, he taught me so much more than the physical skills. He taught me that an assault is a breech of civilized behavior and that it nullifies all rules of ladylike comportment, and most importantly he taught me that it was RIGHT and GOOD to defend myself, and that I had the strength and power to do so.

Authenticity

Go read this.

No, right now, because John Mayer just shot an arrow straight to the heart of modern society:

I haven't spoken very much out loud these days, but I've been thinking to myself in what feels like surround sound. I can see so many things clearly, and feel so connected to myself and the world around me that I need to share the perspective with you.

. . .

What I'm about to write isn't about fame or success or celebrity or the media. That's my business.

This is about us all.

This is about a level of self consciousness so high in my generation, that it's actually toxic.

. . .

This is about us all. Every one of us. Who all seem to know deep down that it's incredibly hard to be alive and interact with the world around us but will try and cover it up at any cost. For as badass and unaffected as we try to come off, we're all just one sentence away from being brought to the edge of tears, if only it was worded right.

Dear Andrew

The Mighty Jimbo is the passerby mentioned in this article and he has written that young man a beautiful letter.

I don't know if you saw the sunrise that morning. I really hope you did. Maybe it would have given you hope. Or maybe it let your last sight be one of beauty. But if I had to find you, I only wish I could have found you a few hours earlier. Maybe we could have talked of dolphins. Maybe you would have let Josh lick your face. Maybe we could have seen the sunrise.

At twenty years old, there are just so many sunrises left to see.

The Last Word

As with many bloggers, I have a disgustingly large ego, and so I just couldn't bear the thought of not being able to have the last word if the need arose. Perhaps I take that further than most, I don't know. I hope so. It's frightening to think there are many people as neurotic as I am in the world. In any case, since I won't get another chance to say what I think, I wanted to take advantage of this opportunity. Such as it is.
-Major Andrew Olmsted

On Thursday Major Andrew Olmsted was killed in action in, making him one of the first three casualties of 2008.

Olmsted, who so eloquently explained why he went willingly to Iraq, was an avid blogger whose posts from the front lines gave personal insight into what has become an increasingly abstract and impersonal war. It was no surprise to any who had been following his blog that wrote a final post for hilzoy to publish in the event of his death.

I'm glad Andy -- generous as always -- wrote something for me to publish now, since I have no words at all.
-hilzoy

Though the post popped up in my feed reader on Friday morning and various people sent me links over the weekend, I couldn't read it until this evening. Every time I tried, the faces of my friends who are deployed in Iraq floated in front of me and my mind played tricks that these were their final words and not Andy's. But tonight I steeled myself and read his final post all the way through.

I'm glad I did. It's charming and heartfelt and funny and poignant and utterly devastating - an absolutely necessary read. Would that we could all have the opportunity to make so eloquent a final statement.

. . . while you're free to think whatever you like about my life and death, if you think I wasted my life, I'll tell you you're wrong. We're all going to die of something. I died doing a job I loved. When your time comes, I hope you are as fortunate as I was.
-Major Andrew Olmsted

May we all be so lucky. Rest in peace, Andy.

Butterfly Fray

I have done it! I've finally gotten off my (very-sore-from-all-those-lunges) butt and created a separate Muay Thai blog.

Please join me over at Butterfly Fray for more kickboxing goodness!

Crushing

Neil is trying to kill me.

On Saturday he got me all aflutter by remembering something that I'd written, and today I'm the blog crush of the day.

Guess I'm going to have to lay off the week long pauses in blogging, huh?

Catching Up

It's Tuesday afternoon so I'm just about on time for my DaveL.A recap!

Oh c'mon, cut a girl some slack. Not only did I work 148.5 hours in ten days (and then 15 more yesterday), somewhere in there my dining room ceiling started leaking pouring water, my car battery died, and The Fireman and I called it quits. Oh, and I came home Friday night to find my landlord up on my roof trying to find the cause of the dining room waterfall; when I asked him how bad the problem was he just shook his head and said "Bad, very bad. Very not good at all." Awesome! (Dear Universe, WTF? No love, Me)

Given all that, I think it's safe to say that by the time Saturday afternoon rolled around I was NOT feeling terribly social. In fact, I was feeling like crawling into bed with a bottle of bourbon was the best idea I'd ever had. However, I'd RSVP'd for DaveL.A. weeks earlier and didn't want to be that blogger - the one who tries to attend but mysteriously never makes it (*coughPaulycough*) - so I dutifully threw on some clothes, brushed my hair, and headed over the hill to Lucky Strike.

Boy am I ever glad that I left the house; Dave throws a hell of a gathering, let me tell you. (And he looks awfully dapper while doing it, all dressed up in a zombie t-shirt and snappy blazer)

I'm always a little trepidatious about blogger meet-ups. Though I've had very good luck with the ones I've attended so far, there's something slightly nerve-wracking about meeting people you know (and who know you) only via blog.  A blog is not a person, it is a creative medium that reveals a small, edited fraction of a person. Consequently, gathering a bunch of bloggers together without the safety of an edit feature, or our thin veils of anonymity, can either go fantastically well or horribly awry.

Fortunately DaveL.A. fell into the former category and we all had a smashing time! Smashed being the operative word here as everyone had two or three (or ten) drinks while we ate dinner and bowled threw brightly colored balls in the general direction of some pin-shaped things.

Since the guest list was super-duper top secret, I was curious to see who would attend. I was pretty sure that Hilly would be there (And she was! And we got hit on! And now we're lovahs!), but I was pleasantly surprised by everyone else: the Atomic Bombshell and her Ninja, Neil and his lovely wife Sophia, Liz, SJ and her pro-bowler Bret, Catherine, Foo, Peggy, and of course our Master of Ceremonies - Dave!

(Why do I suddenly feel like Dorothy? And you were there, and you were there, and Toto - you were there too!)

Being in such exalted company, I was surprised and flattered that anyone at the table had ever read my blog; I very nearly blushed myself to death when Neil told me that he'd been reading for a couple of years. Citizen of the Month is one of my very favorite blogs so I was touched to hear that something I'd written so long ago stood out in his memory. Thanks, Neil :-)

We had PLENTY of time to chat both before we ordered our food and while we were waiting for our lanes (Lucky Strike is not known for its prompt service), which worked out well because there wasn't ever a pause in conversation longer than the span of time necessary to take a sip of beer or lemon drop. Since I was sitting in the middle of the table, I actually had the problem of being between conversations and wanting to take part in both! I should have followed Catherine's lead and hopped from one end of the table to the other.

When we finally got down to the lanes we split up into two teams and promptly laughed, danced, and high-fived our way through two games. I did my part to make sure the gutters were working properly and was very proud when I broke 70 on our second game. (Seriously, I cannot bowl. SJ has proof.) It all ended much too soon, but this is what happens when a bunch of old folks like us start drinking at 6pm. We're trashed and ready to call it quits by 11! OK I wasn't trashed, I was driving, but Dave & Hilly were fulfilling that role for all of us. Off we stumbled to our various cars and away into the night we went.

I came away from the evening with an official DaveL.A. lanyard, a handful of fabulous Artificial Duck pins, a gift certificate for an Artificial Duck t-shirt, a nifty Everyday Goddess sticker, some truly fantastic new friends, and a lesbian lovah. It was hands down the best Saturday night that I've had in quite some time.

Thanks, Dave, for giving such good party!

v 2.0

Phew, more than two weeks without a post! Need I explain that my life has been a bit of a whirlwind lately?

I took some time off last week, though, and have returned from Santa Barbara both refreshed and resolved to approach a few areas of my life differently.

I also returned with a trail version of Photoshop CS3, which explains the brand spanking new look of the site. I'm still fiddling around with the details; this masthead was my first attempt at using custom brushes and advanced layering so I'm not completely happy with it yet, but it's a start.

What do you guys think?

Could Have

This week was simply chock full of blog fodder!

• I could have written about the bomb scare that shut down four blocks of the street on which I work Monday afternoon. Every single building in the area was evacuated - except mine.


• I could have written about my Catalan lessons and my tutor's continued refusal to speak to me in English. Not only are we great at charades, we're getting pretty good at Pictionary, too! I also could have blogged about how written Catalan barely resembles spoken Catalan and how much fun it is to try to figure out how to pronounce a new word when they're not spelled phonetically at all.


• I could have written about children, and the magnetism I seem to have for them lately. No matter where I am - at my Catalan lesson, at the laundromat, at the grocery store - they're following me around as though I am the Pied Piper. (Though I haven't lured any of them into a cave. Yet.)


• I could have written about the tropical wedding I didn't attend, the birthday invitations I had to decline, the drinks I completely forgot about, and the Curry Night I had to miss because of (you guessed it!) work. Also? I could have written about my frustrations over working this f*@%$*g much and still being this f*@%$*g broke.


• I could have written about the car accident I got into on Wednesday night and how awesome THAT was at the end of a 12 hour day.


• I could have written about Mongo, and how much he rocks for forcing me to go out and have food and beer, on him.


• I could have written about my friend Tom, who died early in the week - nearly a year to the day after Curtis (a mutual friend of ours) died under extremely similar circumstances. My friends & family could stop being plagued with cancer ANY day now, thanks.
  


• I could have written about working 6 days in a week and how, because Murphy is a bastard, the 6th day was the biggest nightmare goat rodeo of them all.


• I could have written about the new flowers & herbs I planted today, and how happy they make me.


• I could have written a long and eloquent post in honor of my Dad on Father's Day.


• I could have written about my tomato-stealing neighbor and how she is proof that if you give people an inch they will take a mile every tomato off your (6' tall!) vines.


• And of course, I could have written about The Fireman and how he continues to amaze and delight me every day. Even in the face of some serious things with which he's currently dealing, he never fails to make feel loved and cherished. I only hope that he can say the same of me.

Yep, it sure could have been a great week of blogging here at amandarin.net...

Would Have

Guess what boys & girls? It's time for another installment of Things I Would Have Written About If My Job Hadn't Eaten My Life:

• I would have written about Firebug's boyfriend flying me up to San Francisco last weekend as a surprise gift for her 30th birthday. That post would have included such gems as an explanation of why I'm kind of a big deal in Oakland, a description of the best burrito I have ever eaten, a review of Knocked Up, and a list of 50 reasons I no longer like to fly (hint: none of them have to do with heights, airsickness, or technophobia).
• I would have written about jury duty, and how I got it postponed the morning I had to appear.
• I would have written about the Ocean's 13 premiere, specifically about how rad Brad Pitt's car is (it was parked right next to our truck), how our Director got mistaken for George Clooney, and how I won the respect of an entire crew by carrying 120lbs of cable 20 yards. Also? I would have written about how glamorous my job is, as exemplified by our catered lunch which was served in a private corner between the urine-soaked alley and our generator. Ah, Hollywood.
• I would have written about the fact that Keith and I have set up a near-weekly lunch date and how much that rocks.
• I would have written about Orbit's Mint Mojito gum: Best. Gum. Ever. It tastes exactly like a mojito!
• I would have written about work and how I now have all the responsibilities of a promotion without either the new title or accompanying raise.
• I would have written about the Tomato Plants That Might Eat Pasadena, and the death of two of my bean plants (*sniff*).
• I would have written about my language tutor and her stalwart refusal to speak in English. We're getting very good at charades.
• I would have written work some more, especially since I logged 60 hours Monday - Friday and then went in for another 8 today.

So... yeah. That's what I would have written about, if I'd had the time.

Think For Yourself

If you don’t like a radio hosts’ lingo, don’t listen. If you think Alec Baldwin is a horrible father, that’s your right to say so. But when people have to start to fear what they say (like me, wondering if I should even put up this post for fear that someday down the line a future employer or corporation will find this and disregard me for an opportunity) then the First Amendment is slowly being wrapped up in moth balls and put away in a dark attic where no one will find it.
-Paul Davidson, here

Can I get an amen? AMEN.

When exactly did we forget that free speech covers ALL speech, not just the politically-correct, non-offensive milquetoast variety? If you don't like it, don't listen/watch/read. Exercise your free will; it's really not that hard. In the words of Voltaire*, "think for yourselves and let others enjoy the privilege to do so too."

I am so disheartened that America's citizens need to be REMINDED to think for themselves.

_____

*People, please stop crediting Voltaire as saying "I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it." Volatire didn't write that, Evelyn Hall did. She used that phrase to describe Voltaire's attitude in The Friends of Voltaire and it's been mis-quoted ever since. Stop the madness!

amandarin, version 1.2

Notice anything different around here?

You don't?

Oh, you're reading via an RSS feed. You wouldn't then, would you?

Well for the rest of you, welcome to amandarin.net version 1.2! It's new. It's shiny. It's not orange!

I've been thinking about overhauling the site for awhile now. Not only is two years is an eternity in website design, but I was also getting sick of the orange. REALLY sick of it. Those of you who have seen my other online encampments will notice that the orange is gone from those places, too - one can only beat a theme into the ground for so long.

Since I am conveniently trapped at work today with very little actual work to do, I took the opportunity to start making some changes. I ditched the playlist that no one one ever scrolled down to read, the links to photo albums no one ever visited, the couple of TypeLists that even I didn't care about, and all the freaking orange.

Did I mention that I was sick of the orange?

There's still a lot of work to be done before version 2.0 is ready to go (though mostly on Val's part as she will be the creative genius behind my new header), but this is a good start.

It's like spring cleaning for my blog - I feel better already!

Ten Things

Ten things I would write about if I'd had more than two days off since the beginning of the year (in no particular order):

• Joining Barack Obama's team. Obama '08, baby.
• The most recent updates on my various home renovation projects.
• The re-structuring at my company and the resultant need for me to re-apply for my own job.
• My neighbor Stephanie getting deployed to Iraq.
• The book that changed my whole outlook on what it is to be a pro.
• Kissables' eerie resemblance to Sorry pieces.
• Setting up broadcast coverage for an awards show in the pouring rain and how much that sucks.
• How glad I am to have an internet capable Treo since I basically don't have a computer at home.
• The return of L.A.'s rainy season! Hilarity ensues.
• amandarin.net v2.0, coming soon to an internet near you.

That's what I *would* be writing about, if I was doing anything other than working & sleeping these days. Sadly, I'm not.

Pimpin' Jimbo

The Mighty Jimbo is for sale, and he's cheap! From his website:

My Flickr page has been pretty damn busy lately. And, I might add, pretty damn good too.

Modesty - never my strength.

Sure, I used to entertain the masses with drama and debauchery from OC and beyond. Now I just take cute pics of kids and dogs and sunsets and stuff.

But they are GOOD cute pics of kids and dogs and sunsets and stuff.

Want some cute pics of your kids or dogs or sunsets and stuff? You can either buy mine (Cheap, I say, CHEAP!) or hire me to take some for you. Really, I just want the experience, so for a few bucks and maybe some good beer, I'll point the lens in your general direction.

A man has to support his debauchery somehow. Plus, he has the cutest dog on the planet and you wouldn't want that dog to go without biscuits, would you? Of course not.

Oh, and the photos? Gorgeous.

Go. Look. Buy photos. I bought three!

(A special note to SoCal folks who are planning weddings: he does those, too.)

Amen

via Quirkee's interview with PostSecret's Frank Warren.

Frodo Failed

Sen. Rick Santorum (R-PA) explains the Iraq war by citing Lord of the Rings:

As the hobbits are going up Mount Doom, the Eye of Mordor is being drawn somewhere else. It’s being drawn to Iraq and it’s not being drawn to the U.S. You know what? I want to keep it on Iraq. I don’t want the Eye to come back here to the United States.

Happiness is a Warm Gun would like to rebut the Senator's assessment:

okay, no. it's like this: the shire was attacked on 9/11 by sauron. the drunken redneck leader of the hobbits decides to blow up middle earth, randomly. the eye of mordor is drawn to the hobbits, killing EVEN MORE people uselessly. the people of middle earth and the hobbits start to realize that this doesn't make sense, but by this time the eye has created total chaos everywhere it has followed us, so the only course of action is to leave middle earth the way it is and to GO AFTER THE ORIGINAL PEOPLE WHO CAUSED THIS SHIT. but the media in middle earth and its government are too focused on keeping frodo and sam from getting married to actually do anything useful.

(quote via metaquotes)

This bumper sticker has never seemed more appropriate.

Amandarin: A Retrospective

My blog reached the ripe old age of three years last week! Since that's about ninety in internet years, I guess it's time to add a tiny little walker to the header and take it out for an Early Bird Special at Denny's to celebrate.

Instead, I've spent the past several days going through my archives. Cleaning things up, re-categorizing, re-visiting my public record of the last three years.

Though I've had a website / web journal since the fall of 1995, I began blogging in earnest in 2003 after deciding that I was tired of maintaining the behemoth that my personal site had become. I deleted my entire website and started with a Blogger account (ugh) but moved quickly over to TypePad, where I've been ever since.

My blog's been through some changes since its inception (it used to be called The Gravity Bill, for instance), but 800 posts, 1000 love notes death threats emails & comments, and more than 80,000 hits later I'm fairly proud of the "final" product.

Since I have been digging through my archives, I thought I'd celebrate the big 0-3 by re-visiting some of my favorite posts from various categories:

• adventures: Grocery Empowerment is an oldie but a goodie. It remains the single most bizarre trip that I have ever taken to the grocery store (and that's saying a lot) as well as one of the most defining moments for my self confidence.


• dating, mating and relating: Apollo may have turned out to be a coward and a cliche, but the story of the day I met his mother will provide cocktail conversation for years to come. What A Girl Wants is a damn close second for my favorite, though.


• essays: Periodically I'll get an email from a Psych Professor telling me that one of his or her studens has swiped my Freudian Eminem essay for their own. My personal favorite, however, has to be Adventures in Driving.


• life happens: The New Minimalism, wherein our plucky heroine managed to inadvertenly destroy every single piece of furniture in her bedroom.


• los angeles: I can't decide which is my favorite: the woman who was in a terrible hurry, or Luke Perry getting advice on fame from some girl at Petco.


• memories: I reread Simple Things every time I start to despair of ever going on another decent date again. The fact that the man who took these actions is not Apollo makes this memory a particularly effective reminder.


• mental wanderings: Sometimes Confronting the Mirror is the hardest thing you will ever have to do.


• open letters: I discovered a few future Darwin Award winners on my drive home one evening.


• quotables: I remember so vividly the day I became one of the guys.


• tidbits: A screen door taught me not to take myself too seriously.


• work:Thank god my company has a sense of humor.

What are your favorite posts?

Big Deal

The important thing is to feel comfortable with your own body. . . There is beauty in everything, not only in the very thin. - Jean Paul Gaultier

Apparently I'm not the only one who's been thinking about body image lately; it seems to be on the mind of many bloggers.

In a post spurred by Gaultier's "shocking" use of a plus-size model in his last show (Hello, do these people know Gaultier? This is hardly the most shocking thing he's ever done on a runway), the Dictator of Pink voices a point that I've been trying to make for years:

It is time to break the rules. And the first step is to stop being ashamed. Stop being ashamed of how other women look. Stop being ashamed of how other people MIGHT be perceiving a very self-determined model who wouldn't be doing Gaultier's show if she thought she was meant as a laughingstock. Stop being ashamed of yourself.

The entire post is, of course, worth a read.

Body, baby

Yes. Just, yes.

As I'm struggling to come to terms with my new, smaller body, Marcy Italiano's post couldn't have been more perfectly timed. An excerpt:

G and I no longer congratulate people for their weight loss. We do congratulate people for achieving better health and happiness. We will not congratulate you if you lost weight because you want to look like you did in high school, or to fit into smaller clothes. If you wanted to see a lower number on a scale, or if you are ashamed to tell the larger number you do see, or if you want to wear a bathing suit and feel you can’t because you are ashamed. We will not congratulate you if you’ve made your family happier with you, and we will not act like you are worth more, or smarter, or better than before. If you are losing weight so that your boyfriend/girlfriend/spouse/significant other will STILL LOVE YOU, your weight is not your problem. Honey, you need to get help, or get out of that relationship. You deserve to be loved for who you are, 100% and no less.

We WILL congratulate you if you’ve lowered your blood pressure or cholesterol. If you’ve made your life easier by easing back pain or knee or ankle injuries. If you’ve been able to sleep better at night and can breathe easier when climbing stairs or playing with your kids. We will congratulate you if you are healthier, and if you’ve been smart about it. That’s what’s important. Not the scale, not the measuring tape.

Go read the entire post; it's well worth the time.

See Alyssa Be Petty

It's no secret that I'm not a fan of See Alyssa Date, Glamour.com's version of Sex & the City.

Candace Bushnell's column (and the resulting television series) managed to be at once sophisticated and light hearted, intelligent and entertaining; Sex & The City had both depth and relevance. See Alyssa Date, on the other hand, is vapid and poorly written. Take this sentence, for example:

LA is gorgeous and "chill" and I feel very serene and inspired there-- I write better, move slower and "enjoy the moment," much more than the busy Big Apple.

After the generous application of grammatical and punctuative rules, the sentence should read:

L.A. is gorgeous and chill; I feel very serene and inspired there. I write better*, move more slowly, and enjoy the moment much more than I do in the busy Big Apple.

What a difference the MLA makes.

The only thing that sets Alyssa apart from any other flighty woman who has ever whined about her dating life is the fact that Alyssa is getting paid to do it.

You want well-written tales of dating adventures? Go buy Candace Bushnell's book or peruse Hilary's archives. I guarantee that you'll find both of those women's writings more interesting and more entertaining than you will Alyssa's.

Until recently, my distaste for See Alyssa Date was passive. I read the blog when it was first introduced, I sighed that such poor writing was being rewarded with a paycheck, and I moved on. I think it's safe to say that unless someone brought the column up in conversation, I didn't bother to think about it at all.

Then she swept one of my friends into her serial dating whirlwind. We all know what happens when one of my friends is treated poorly, right?

My friend, known as "Boston Boy" on her blog, went on several dates with Alyssa, all of which were inaccurately chronicled on her blog. (We'll just chalk up to creative liberties, shall we?) The day after their last date, she  surreptitiously dumped him via blog and defended her actions by saying that since they only went on a few dates she didn't "owe" him an explanatory phone call or email.

It's simple courtesy to let someone know that you're not interested in future dates. This is called being an adult. If you don't want to be left standing around wondering if the person you're interested in got hit by the bus, don't do it to other people.

This is triply true if you write a dating column for a glossy magazine. Particularly if you have told said person about your column, therefore insuring that they will read it. Boston Boy did, of course, read it and voiced his opinion in a follow-up thread. Unsurprisingly, he received equal amounts of support and opposition after piping up and her response was largely to whine about people needing to "cut her some slack." Slack for what, exactly? Personally I think Boston Boy is well rid of her.

In all fairness, her blog did have one moment of truth and insight: her Sept 22nd self-assessment that she is an overgrown teenager desperate to be popular.

_____
*You are supposed to be a writer. Can you not come up with a more effective comparative than "better?"

Bannable Offenses

On a gloomy Friday when I am busy feeling sorry for myself after having been confined to my bed for two days due to Plague, Bannable Offenses is a soothing snarky, drunken balm for my soul.

[GM]Dave for the win.

Go. Read. Pee first.

Birthday Wishes

Happy Birthday, Hilary!

I figured you'd have plenty of cake (or cupcakes, as the case may be)... so here's a birthday martini! Hope you have a fabulous day! :)

BlogMe

I'm not going to the BlogHer conference this year, but I've still been tagged to participate in the BlogMe online mixer. I should have answered these questions on Monday but, well, I'm lame.

1. When did you start blogging and why?
I started keeping a website in 1995. It started out as a project for a web development class and then progressed to a hobby. I've kept an online journal of some sort since then (before the advent of "blogs" *gasp*), but it was always part of a larger personal website. Three years ago I gave up my previous URL, overhauled my website's design, scrapped all of the extraneous personal crap, and focused on creating a formal, public blog.

2. Who do you read every day, rain or shine?
I have all of the "Clever Blogs" listed at the left grouped into one RSS feed which I check at least once daily.

3. How would you describe your writing style?
Conversational, but not "lazy." I believe firmly in the power of punctuation, sentence structure, and grammar.

4. What don’t you write about? Anything considered a no-no in your book?
I don't write about my job except in very general terms (I'm not really interested in getting dooced) and I don't write about anything that could be potentially embarassing and/or damaging to my friends and family. I'll embarass myself no end, but not the people I love. Because of that, I also use pseudonyms for everyone mentioned in my blog unless I have specific permission to use a name.

5. How do you feel about meeting bloggers in real life?
I think it's only slightly less of a crapshoot than online dating, but so far I've been quite lucky. Several of my current "real life" friends started out as blogger buddies.

6. Have you written anything controversial? Is blogging controversial?
Anytime people are given the opportunity to express differing opinions in a public forum, there will be controversy.

My post about Scientology brings the highest number of random visitors to my site (apparently a lot of people are searching Google for "I hate Scientology" these days) and it never fails to stir up an email or two. My more recent post about gas prices is also a favorite amongst the volatile masses.

7. Are you and your blogging persona the same person?
I write as myself and my blog reflects a portion of my life, but not the entirety of it. My favorite line from the Blogger's Disclaimer is one that I wish more people would remember: Do not assume that you know everything there is to know about a writer simply because you read their weblog on a regular basis. Any judgements you make will be based on the information they have provided you about themselves, which is probably vague, incomplete or embellished.

8. Have you ever anonymously posted on a site to flame them? Never; anonymous posting is cowardly and flaming is a waste of time and energy.

I feel so... mixed!

Adoration

This might actually be the greatest sentence of all time:

Jon stubbed his toe on the plate that night as we were getting ready for bed, and when he asked why there was a dinner plate on the floor in our bedroom I said, “YOU try licking hardened melted cheese off a surface without using your hands and see which room you end up in.”

Just one of a zillion reasons to adore Dooce.

Writer's Block

Wil Wheaton gives us an honest (and highly entertaining) look at writer's block. In it, his Inner Critic speaks:

It was so vitally important that you have this realization, all the voices in your head got together and had an intervention. We put up a nice big writer's block so you'd realize that everything is actually okay. Also, you need to stop playing with the nifty toys at Typepad and just start writing again. It's fine to write your geek news stories -- which, I can tell you as a critic, are actually pretty entertaining -- and it's fine to play and write about poker. But that is not your purpose, so budget your time and energy appropriately, and get back to telling stories.

If only my Inner Critic was so helpful! Unfortunately, she seems more intent on singing annoying song lyrics in my head at the top of her lungs to drown out the dulcet tones of my Muse.

Savoring

Today Andrea writes:

When I think of savor, I think of a spoonful of delicious food resting on your tongue, of being totally present to the gorgeousness of it, the lusciousness, the sweetness, the richness, and enjoying it completely. And that's what I've been up to lately. I am savoring this time of my life, letting it roll around on my tongue in delight. I am present to the gift of it, to the magic of a dream unfolding. . . .  What is there to savor in your life?

I'm savoring the rich, earthy smell of my garden as it wafts through my living room on the evening breeze.

I'm savoring the warm, dull ache in my muscles - it reminds me of all that I am accomplishing, one small step at a time.

I'm savoring the taste of all the delicious fresh foods of summer - ranier cherries, asian pears, peaches, berries, watermelon, tomato, avocado, cucumber...

I'm savoring the sound of my keyboard clicking away as idea flow out through my fingertips.

I'm savoring the sight of myself in the mirror at my yoga studio, though at first I shut my eyes tight against the image.

I'm savoring the memory of a brief but intense connection that, for now, lies dormant. I trust that it will wake again when the time is right.

How about you?

Bloggers - Live!

Subject Line Here.

8 bloggers, live on stage.

Many more bloggers, live in the audience.

So, so, SO funny... though I'm not sure I'll ever look at east facing windows or Black Angus restaurants the same way again.

Thanks, Shane!

Subject Line Here

So, where are YOU going to be tomorrow night?

And in lighter news...

Pissed off Patricia is doing her part to prepare for the war against marriage.

Open Letter

Dear Anonymous Psycho,

Yes you. The one who called me and harassed me at 2am this morning, posing as a rabid fan of this website. You know who you are.

So do I.

And now? So does the Sheriff's Department.

I'll admit that you threw me when first you called; I'm not at my best when woken from a dead sleep. But when you used jargon inconsistent with the "old lady" you were trying to portray, I was wary. When you mentioned information available to only a select few, I was suspicious. When I hung up and saw the same calling card number you'd used in January on my Caller ID, I was certain.

Twenty minutes later, a Sheriff's Deputy officially opened your file.

Your logic in continuing to seek me out is flawed - the outcome you're angling for will never come as a result of attacking me. As I'm sure you learned today, it is actually only driving you farther from your goal.

My patience has run out; I have less than zero tolerance for this behavior. Consider this your final warning: stay away from me.

It would be unwise to underestimate the gravity of these words.

Do not fuck with me.

-Amandarin

Left at The Well

Last night was the third of Hilary's awesome L.A. Blogger meet-ups, this time at The Well.

Oh my god, my sides still hurt from laughing so much. Jason is just trouble, that's what he is!

The new location, The Well's private room, was much more conducive to conversation and mingling what with the leather couches on which to snuggle sprawl and the dedicated bar - and no table nazis!

I was glad that I arrived early enough to actually chat with Hilary longer than 5 minutes, and to hear about Jason's new job. There were LOTS of people there this time so I was happy to meet all the new folks. Of course, the number of people meant that I missed chatting with some, like annabel lee, Eve, and Mike.

Eventually, as usual, I found myself sequestered at the end of one of the couches with Paul, Keith, and Jason discussing Liberals and our (well, mine, Keith's and Jason's) Consumating addiction.

I was out far too late for a school night, but it was definitely worth the heavy eyelids this morning.

Thanks, Hilary!

The First Day of the Rest of His Life

Reading Dan501's story about his engagement, my heart soared.

When people ask me why I cling so stubbornly to my hopeless romanticism, I'll point them to that post and say See? It does happen, and it happens to people I know.

I will never stop believing.

The Bus

This is too funny to be hidden in the comments...

Hilary and her friends have discovered what happens to guys who never call: they've been hit by The Bus.

Don't mind me, I'll just be over here laughing hysterically.

Cross Cultural Compliment

I got an email today from a French woman who found my site while searching for "extraordinary blog." Her email was lovely, and in it she described my writing as un style aérien, plein de vivacité, de malice avec un merveilleux sens de l'auto-dérision.

Fortunately I speak French, otherwise the richness of her comment would have been lost on me. Roughly translated, she said that I have a light style, full of vivacity and micheviousness with a wonderful sense of self-deprication.

I was touched, not only because she took the time to write (as other bloggers can testify, most of the people who set themselves to wrting an email have nothing good to say) but also because she showed me that my writing is cross-cultural.

Anyone who has ever learned a second language will tell you that idioms and humor are the two hardest things to learn (I'm still not fluent enough in French to tell jokes or understand many slang expressions), so it gives me some measure of pride that my sense of humor is clear enough to transcend a secondary or tertiary language barrier.

It was a nice confidence boost on a day when I sorely needed it.

Hate

I HATE TRACKBACK SPAM WITH THE FIERY PASSION OF A THOUSAND BURNING SUNS.

Thank you, that is all.

Grassroots Effort

On April 10th, my blog will be hijacked by a historical figure.

Yours should be too.

(Also? Sorry about Tuesday & Wednesday's entries going up today... I accidentally published them to "draft" when I wrote them. Oops!)