tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59101506554339878252023-11-16T10:17:12.252-06:00TerminallyUniq"Great spirits have often encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds." -- EinsteinTatyanna (and Dorian too)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07646542379329722446noreply@blogger.comBlogger101125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5910150655433987825.post-21450492806710327812011-07-07T22:19:00.004-05:002011-07-07T22:21:35.760-05:00Not Surprised...<a href="http://gawker.com/5819238/banks-still-casually-ruining-lives">Story of My Life!</a>Tatyanna (and Dorian too)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07646542379329722446noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5910150655433987825.post-64337597953083149892011-06-30T05:50:00.002-05:002011-06-30T05:50:54.736-05:00And We're Back...<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: red; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">I’m 35 years old this year, and i am not happy about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>i have never before in my life experienced this … this ...unhappiness about my age... and therefore i did not expect ever TO experience it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>no, i believed very strongly that one was as old or young or perhaps ageless as one felt, as one chose to live and BE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>maybe i still believe that and maybe i think i’ve failed myself in those aspects, and maybe that’s why i’m unhappy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>maybe i feel about twice my age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>i don’t know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>but it’s not good.</span><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: red; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">i never said it out loud, and i never thought about it, obviously (given what i just stated above), but somewhere in my mind, deep inside myself, i must have decided -- or feared, or observed -- that about age 30 or 35 is the time when Certain Things Must Be Decided.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>let me attempt to explain...<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: red; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">before these past few years, i felt, believed, truly and whole-heartedly KNEW, that i could be and do and become anything in the whole world that i wanted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>yep, i truly believed that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>i have no idea where such lofty ideas came from really, given my upbringing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>i mean, it has all been quite modest, when it put it on paper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>which is why i don’t do that very often.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>put it on paper, that is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ha. ha.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>i can’t recall anyone saying those words out loud very often, not in such drastic terms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>but i am a stubborn girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>you have no idea!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>when i get an idea in my head about what i’m going to do, that’s just IT.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>there’s no letting go of it until it’s done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>like a wild animal that bites and its jaw just locks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>that’s what i remind ME of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>it’s often a good thing, but i’ve also had to learn that there are times when i have to pry myself loose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>some things have to be thrown back, thrown out, abandoned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: red; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">for many years, i wanted to be a police officer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a realistic goal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>i mean, i had most of the qualifications.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>for the departments that i wanted to apply for jobs in, my most difficult challenge appeared to be some of the physical qualifications.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>there are typically physical tests given to applicants, which include some kind of bench press minimum and a running mile time limit, stuff like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>while i’ve always played sports<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and been underweight most of my life, i was not fast enough or strong enough in my upper body to meet the qualifications.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>but i could BECOME those things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the goals were not out of the range of possibility.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: red; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">i’m not exactly sure why i didn’t go for that particular career option more aggressively.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>i can only tell you now that it probably just wasn’t right for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>because it just didn’t stir enough passion in me to make me do all the work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>i just didn’t push myself for it the way i have done, the way that i do, for things that i really and truly desire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and inside of myself, i’ve never been able to MAKE myself or FAKE myself out (not to be a poet about it) enough to do things just for the hell of it or just to see if i CAN.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>so i never really made the bench press weight, even when i had passed some of the other exams for the police department or gone to interviews, and i just kind of was “blah” about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and HERE is the thing... there was always Another Time... because across the U.S.A., on local and state and federal law enforcement departments, the age limit for a starting officer with no prior experience is almost ALWAYS 35.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: red; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">so you see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>there was always Next Year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>until this year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>this is the first year of my life when i said to myself, i really CAN’T be a police officer now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and it’s kind of dumb, because i didn’t WANT to be a police officer anymore!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>i hadn’t tried to get that job, hadn’t wanted to do it or anything, in years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>but now i CAN’T.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>now i’m past the age limit, or dare i say it, too OLD.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>on the other hand, i’ve been wondering how i feel about saying to myself, “hey, i am now eligible in ALL ways to be president of the united states.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>me and john mccain!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>we have everything in common now!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>i don’t know, i’m all fucked up in the head over this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and i never thought about it before, never once!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>i’m telling you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>i don’t understand why it snuck up and bothered me now...<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: red; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">it wasn’t just the police job... that was just something where there is a definitive, written rule.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>but you know, it’s quite likely that i will not become a backup dancer for a pop star now, if i haven’t already (a teenage dream of mine)... i mean, you know, really.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and i don’t think i’m going to be a supermodel at this point if i haven’t done much work in that industry already (same dreams, same timeframe).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>probably i won’t become a pro surfer either, because i guess i forgot to move to a place with a beach before i went and got TOO FUCKING OLD!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: red; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">i think i might be hysterical over this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and no one i talk to understands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a lot of my friends are PERFECTLY happy with their lives, which consist of just what they wanted, i guess, at this point... they have 1 - 4 kids, dogs and cats and houses and careers and husbands … NONE of which i have, ‘cept the cat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and i don’t want any of it, those are not the things i’m lamenting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>can’t i get a house any old time?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>like, when i’m 85?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>can’t i get 4 dogs and adopt some kids if i have to?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>no, no, i’m being a little sarcastic... but those just aren’t the things that i personally want.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>or wanted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>so i just don’t have people around me who understand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>i mean, people who are OLDER than i am don’t understand of course, like my parents or other family or friends... they just think i’m being silly and that since i’m younger than THEY are, i have the world at my feet or whatever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>but hasn’t anyone ever felt this way?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: red; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">i know that my life isn’t over, and for that i am certainly grateful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>sheesh!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>i know that i have --with any luck and some vitamins and exercise -- many years left to make of whatever i will.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>this is not about my life being “over” or something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>this is about finding a way to come to terms with the fact that … that i guess, i’m an adult, and that i’m at a point in life i never considered before??? that there is a time in life when you have to shut the door on certain things, that you have to accept that certain things aren’t going to happen for you, and MAYBE that’s okay, because maybe i made certain choices in my life that led me to the place i am... (switched from that general “you” to “i” …such great, formal writing here) … <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: red; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">i’m beginning to think through such things, but i’m still not happy or comfortable with the situation at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>shit, i feel like i have to have therapy about this like some goddam yuppy or something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>like, ohhhh, my biggest fucking problem is that i don’t want to be forty!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>or some shit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>but that is NOT my biggest problem, it’s just something i haven’t learned how to cope with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and don’t even know exactly how to explain...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>which is why i’m writing about it and putting it out there to the world...<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: red; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">i need to figure out what i AM now if i’ve begun to see and feel all of those things that maybe i’m NOT ever going to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>you know, there are some careers and goals in life, i guess, that you can’t do (like being a professional cheerleader, un-checking that one from my list...) if you haven’t done them already when you’re like … shit, when you’re 25, let alone THIRTY-five.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>but there must be a lot MORE things you can still do when you’re my age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>plus, i’m educated and would love to go get MORE education if i have the financial opportunity, i can read and play music, i can speak and read Spanish and even some French, German (and i know the Korean alphabet and both sets of their numbers, so i can translate/read the language there....just takes me a little while!), i’m awesome at all kinds of weird stuff like doing research (i’m the best fact-finder/ web searcher /at-home Jeopardy player EVER); playing sports; chatting people up; i’ve worked with people from all walks of life and had to be their boss.. SO, i think it’s weird that i don’t seem to fit in anywhere, like, for a job or whatever.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: red; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">sometimes, i feel like it’s all the health problems i’ve had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>i lost practically my entire social life, and i guess i lost my jobs, to tell the truth, in one way or another, because of my disorder (see:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>all my other blog posts... ha. ha.).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>but at the same time, sometimes i feel like that’s just not the whole story, and why do i feel that way?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>maybe that IS the whole story!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>maybe i WOULD have more of a life and not have such a struggle with my identity right now if i hadn’t had so much struggle with my health during … well, during my whole adult life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>shit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>that’s something i need to think about more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>maybe, as they would tell me in therapy, as they HAVE told me in therapy, i need to grieve for what i feel was lost during that time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>like my opportunity to be a pro skateboarder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>:)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: red; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">i think we’re getting somewhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>i’m really glad we’re having this conversation!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>Tatyanna (and Dorian too)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07646542379329722446noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5910150655433987825.post-43005623113810020102011-03-10T23:21:00.001-06:002011-04-04T02:57:53.388-05:00Too Long!This blog and those associated with it will return on April 4, 2011!!<div style='clear: both; text-align: center; font-size: xx-small;'>Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.7</div>Tatyanna (and Dorian too)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07646542379329722446noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5910150655433987825.post-85489865866473588572011-01-07T03:44:00.001-06:002011-01-07T03:44:19.566-06:00Mobile-ity 2well, dang,y'all! my beloveds, your comments have all been quite over-the-top, lauding my tech-"savvy" self! I have a sneaking (ok, it's more bum-rushing than sneaking, per se) suspicion that if any of my followers or lurkers(you've been made! Come on outta them thar bushes, abundant lurk-sters!) are developers or IT ppl or what-have-you, they'd just mock my modest little android phone w/3G networking. <br/> my own fave accomplishment / discovery thus far was that I (or really, my phone) can utilize the wireless router I have @home here when I am indeed AT home! the point, naturally, is that when I use my own wireless network, I ain't using a single ha'penny of "the company's" resources! WOOT. <br/> by the by, why am I talking (oh, you know what I mean!) like some horrible frankenstein of hillbilly-cum-hackney origin? well, I wish I could tell you. next post, when i'm not wilfully contracting carpal-tunnel (sp? dunno) by tippity tappin on this touch screen (one of my most personally detested inventions to date, led only by the faux-formal accessory known as an ASCOT +most often forced upon the long-suffering necks of fast food managers.. so i'm told.. ahem)... o,fuck this paragraph.. !! <br/> What I was going to get around to tapping out here is that: 1) I actually do have some theories +insight into my personality (kindly notice that I have not advertised said personality as,like, sparkling or radiant, cheerful,et. al.. so if you come to hate my honesty, well, here's a quarter, as they say... <br/> already, i'm a peach.. what's not to like,see! haha,i'm just being funny(ish). which probably plays more like "weird and/or mentally insane" on the "page." bwah haha <br/> ok. 2nd thing is that, SERIOUSLY NOW, PEOPLE, many of you have sent me emails+ comments that cheered, motivated, +lent support to me ...+i want u to know iIhave responses+a post or two for y(ou)'all! ;) <br/> P.S. hell no,i'm not proofreding this. My new laptop arrives in T minus 8hrs! (for your consumer comparison shopping,just FYI: this is my second replacement -entire new ones cuz two have been totally defective! ..so this will b my THIRD laptop from sony..(ready?).. In SEVEN months!! .. story for another time,but let the buyer beware fo sho!<div style='clear: both; text-align: center; font-size: xx-small;'>Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5</div>Tatyanna (and Dorian too)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07646542379329722446noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5910150655433987825.post-38702819763419686902011-01-05T23:20:00.001-06:002011-01-05T23:20:47.988-06:00Mobile-ityWell, well, well! Although I had hoped to grace you all with some blogging many more times by now, technical difficulties thwarted me (and in such ghastly manner that i shall relate the most horrifying details to you as soon as i am able to use a proper computer again)! <br/> <br/> So, if laptops+other means of blogging have let me down, how, you might wonder, am i now posting? Well, thanks be to the Android Market and my new phone! I downloaded the free blogger app,so now i can post even from my phone! and, for the record, i TRIED to pay for the,well,paid version,and it wouldn't let me choose a payment option! Wtf? The little buttons were there,but none responded.. Sigh. So for the time being,i can post these simple blogs but no photos,fancy colors or fonts,etc. <br/> <br/> My laptop should b ready to test any minute,but I figured i'd do a mobile post in the meantime! Cheers,all! <div style='clear: both; text-align: center; font-size: xx-small;'>Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5</div>Tatyanna (and Dorian too)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07646542379329722446noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5910150655433987825.post-3899421050207696852010-12-17T15:29:00.001-06:002010-12-18T00:53:07.429-06:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>You'd think after all these years of blogging, I'd have the font thing down a little better. Sorry if you had to invest in reading glasses in order to read my last post (haha, because you would do that for me, right? you would be dying to know what the words said, so you would leave your screen, go to your local drugstore, purchase some of those colorful, $5 glasses, then come back to see what gems I've graced the world with this day? Yeah? I know.)</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Thanks to <a href="http://llcooljoe01.blogspot.com/">Joe</a> and <a href="http://gledwood2.blogspot.com/">Gleds</a> for the comments!! I will be catching up (and I have already done, a little) on everybody's writing this weekend, and I can't wait!! I always find that reading my favorite blogs is as good as reading a beloved book! </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Now, regarding those comments, Gledwood, do you not know of Martha Stewart that she is considered the Queen of all Homemaking? It's not just cookin', mate! If it comes to entertaining, folding sheets or blankets properly (i was recently stunned to learn from martha, on tv, that outside of the retail industry, where I had to learn to fold towels the company way, there is indeed a proper and preferred manner in which to fold and store one's linens). anyway, here in the states, you usually fall into one of two camps: the one that loves her and counts on her empire (magazines, something upwards of 57 books, tv show, holiday specials, etc) to teach you how to live a neat and organized and aesthetically pleasing life ...the other camp, of which i might be camp president, is the one wherein we respect the fact that this is a woman who has built a billion dollar empire (girl power, yay) but we think that ..how should i say this?? we think that to spend one's afternoon endeavouring to fold one's fitted bed sheets just <i>so</i> is a waste of one's precious days on this planet. but to each her own, right? most of the, um, disciplines, that martha teaches also seem to my way of thinking to be exercises in Earning the Approval of One's Peers/Neighbors/In-Laws, etc.... and i never can condone expending much energy on that. but wow! who knew that i even gave martha so much thought? not i.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>ok, well, moving right along! what holidays does everyone out there celebrate? i would love to hear about all of your traditions or what you might PREFER to be doing if you are not able to do that because of your traditions or obligations. i mean, let's keep it real on my blog! not everyone adores the holiday times... in fact, i think that many or even most people DISlike this time of year. i worked in retail for 9 years, and if that didn't give the impression that no one enjoys anything at all about hannukah / christmas /kwanzaa et al., well, nothing would.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>as you know, i've been out of the workforce due to illness for about a year now. and while my situation has its ups and downs -- oh wait, we are keeping it real, so there aren't many downs at all, i have to say!! --i have never hit my knees in such fervent thanksgiving as when i was freed from the indentured servitude of retail hell. never was the light at the end of my tunnel less visible than when i was there. never did a college degree feel like more of a sick joke. and honestly now, seriously: NEVER, EVER have i been treated on such a regular basis by other human beings (both supervisors at my places of employment and customers of course) in such an astonishingly inhuman manner. i exaggerate not a bit. it was truly humanity at some of its ugliest lowest behavior. my boyfriend of five years during that experience had worked in retail security, and now he is a police officer. i think only those in that line of work see humans at a lower point in their life and actions. it doesn't get much worse.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>if you haven't done a holiday stint in retail (or really any time of year, because the holidays just amp up the noise and crowds and confusion and RAGE of the people), let me share some details about my last christmas in the business. i don't even know off the top of my head whether this was the worst. it was definitely one for the memory books of course. but who knows? every year was just mayhem. i'm sure that you've seen it on tv each year, at least a bit of it, yeah? i remember that in recent years, employees and customers alike have been severely injured and even killed, during the "black friday" rushes for sales and in-demand toys. INJURED and KILLED!!! what's wrong with these people?, we'd ask each other rhetorically, everyday, all day.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>so my last year of holiday employment was like this. it was actually the last official day, because it was christmas eve. everyone on staff with me was in a pretty good mood. we were way OVER-staffed, which was rare, but on that ONE day, our company allowed for a high payroll, because 1)it was never possible to predict how many last-minute shoppers would be in from year-to-year; sometimes it was a mad rush, others it was vacant... and 2) yes, indeed, our boss showed a bit of mercy and wanted us to get out of the store when it closed at 6 p.m. rather than stay late cleaning up like we usually did at night. it should be noted that at this particular store, they had the extra-merciLESS habit of scheduling people, including students and those with full-time "regular" jobs in addition to the one at the store, to close at night (an endeavour that often lasted past 12:30 a.m.) and then to open the next day at 7 a.m. no sleep or driving time or anything was even considered, just stay late and be back bright and early! at least when i worked at one of america's most beloved big-box stores (i shant say their name, for fear of their wrath, which is well known to me, but perhaps you will think of a bullseye as a hint), they had a company rule that mandated employees be given eight full hours between any two shifts. it's just basic human treatment, you know?</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>but i digress, because if i wanted to write about all the violations these retail companies heap upon people on a daily basis, i'd write a book. oh wait, i already DO have that in the works ;)</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>so it's christmas eve, and we are all having a grand old time. we had some good catered food brought in for us by our managers, which was lovely of them indeed. most people had plans for later, and of course for christmas day. half the staff were seasonal help and those tend to be happy just to be making some cash, unlike the year-rounders who are generally surly and less enthused about all the long hours. while we were having a good time showing people our last-minute deals, re-stocking shelves, and telling delighted callers that yes! we are open for business ... the clientele was less than civil to us. i mean, they were just wrong.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>i was working at a customer service desk that day. at the desk, we would take returns/exchanges, we would order and replace online items for ya, and we'd help with any other issues at the back of the department store, which is where we were located. the store i was working in also had a hair salon and one of those photo "studios" where people pay to get their kids' pictures taken, or their own or their pets', i'm sure you know the type... well, wouldn't you know it, since it was the eve of christmas, the photo studio was engaged in selling photo opportunities with santa!!! how lovely! now, i must tell you to have the kids leave the room for this story, because it ain't pretty...</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>okay, so i guess santa was doing his thing over there, smiling with what seemed (and SOUNDED) like tens of thousands of children all day long. hey, i hope he didn't expect anything less when he took the job! whatever his issues, santa finished his day around 4 p.m., so the rest of the store was still working, so he could still shop! yes, santa needs to shop apparently, for a few last-minute items. regretfully, i do not remember what he bought. but he brought his items back to our registers (yes, even though we were under a luminous red sign that read: "Customer Exchange / Return / Service," many <s>dipshits</s> customers would bring their regular stuff to buy up for us to take care of for them. okay, fine if we weren't busy, but hello, if there is a line of people already pissed about some defective thing they have to exchange or return or whatever (as was the story of our life in that department), why are you doing this to us?????? we were not allowed to turn them away unless there was an extreme line of our own customers waiting, so i rang up santa's stuff...</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>santa handed me some money and two coupons. as was my habit, i ran the two coupons through the register (mind you, before we go further, this was only like a $20 purchase, nothing extremely expensive); then, sadly, the registered beeped me a rejection sort of beep, you know the type. one of santa's coupons was the type that could NOT be used with ANY OTHER DISCOUNT OR OFFER OR COUPON... you dig? y'all know when you have a certain good discount coupon, and it says on there that you can't just pile up about five of 'em, so that basically the store has to pay YOU or something? yeah, it was like that. so i pleasantly and politely, as my training and 9 years of experience dictated, explained, "oh, i'm sorry, sir, this second one cannot be used in combination with another coupon," and began to hand it back to him... <i>have i mentioned that he was still dressed head to toe in full santa regalia</i>? (for your imagination's sake)... </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>santa did not raise a hand to take the coupon back from me, the first and certain sign of Trouble at the customer service desk... i made sure to have my blandest, most serene-and-a-bit-stupid-as-in-too-stupid-to-understand-any-complaint-you-might-make, look upon my face, and santa just ERUPTED! "WHADDYA MEAN?!" he bellowed in that ho-ho-ho booming tone we all know and love.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>"I mean, that this coupon cannot be used with another, as it states at the bottom here," I kept my voice low and gentle...Santa ripped the coupon from my hand, quite literally, tearing its corner in the process. he peered down through those sweet-old-grandpa bifocals at the writing on the coupon, and his face turned from confused rage to the rage of complete understanding.</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>"Oh! THAT is GOOD! You all SENT me this, and now you're telling me I can't use it! Is that right, am I getting that right?" he spat...</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>quite right, douche-claus, now you're catching on, except i didn't personally send you anything, except my list like 20 years ago, and i never DID find a speak-n-math under the tree, so fuck you</i>. "Well, no, you still can use it, but it can't be used at the same time on the same items as this other coupon," I explained in a voice that was practically sing-song with patience and the finest spark of disbelief that i never could shake, no matter how many times i had to patiently deal with maniacs.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Santa stared at my face like he wanted to say something more, like he was itchin to throw down as we'd say where i come from, but he was trapped by the legalese of that damn fine print. to be honest with y'all, i would have suggested he split his items up into two neat $10 piles and i would ring 'em each up and put one coupon to both of 'em ... but see, when you treat the cashier like the shit from your reindeer's ass, she sometimes forgets to mention that these things can easily be done. </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>that was about it for santa. i rang up his items and sent him away growling under his breath a bit more about how i had sent him something and tricked him into coming to shop and then not letting him use it after all. nevermind he had used one coupon already and saved like 20% on twenty bucks. nevermind it was christmas eve and, ya know, only 17 bucks after all was said and done. nevermind it was SANTA. hell.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>okay, so here's part two. on that same afternoon, that same inauspicious christmas eve workday, i see a guy in line who i recognize as a businessman from the area. my brother and i grew up knowing this guy, i mean, he's been around the chicago suburbs all of our lives, so... let's say at least 30 years. i shall assume we are far from the only ones who know him. he does not know me well enough to recognize me all-grown-up self. my brother took lessons from this man at one of his places of business, ok? i'll just leave it at that. and to top it all off, if anyone was uncertain, he was wearing one of those stylin' satin jackets with his business name in huge airbrushed letters on the back of it ... so you see, if one were standing behind him in, say, a long line at a store on christmas eve ... well, one would know who he was and what business he represented. hmm. if it were me, i'd behave as befits a rep for the company, especially if it were.. MY COMPANY! but that's just me!</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>let's call him The Fish, because, well, it's sort of like his name. once again, we-- my fellow workers and i -- are all working quite efficiently i must say in all honestly, and getting through our long lines that had collected. the afternoon was the type when there was no real busy hour, just lots of dead time interspersed with huge throngs of people all showing up at once. it happened to be a time like the latter when we got our lines to the point that everyone had maybe two more people and a current customer. my current customer was the fish. the fish was making a purchase, just like santa had done, and i accepted it, fine whatever. it was only one item, a set of gloves and mittens or something like that, definitely for a woman, mind you. i think the fish mentioned it was for his wife, for her christmas gift... so imagine my inner snickering when he whips out a credit card with a woman's name on it but bearing his last name. </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>(now, look y'all. just in case you don't know, there are laws regarding usage of credit cards in america. they are LAWS, not rules, not suggestions, not even like county ordinances from place to place. no, they are federal laws in most cases, including the one at issue here. i'm often told that cashiers fail to ask for i.d. even when someone has requested it on the back of their card. or they fail to even notice that the name on the card does not match the name on the i.d. presented, or the gender of the person using it, etc. people get irritated sometimes but they just complain and move on in most cases. nevertheless, it is a VIOLATION of the federal LAW to use a credit card without proper authorization. this does not change when you get married, have a child, or otherwise entangle yourself with another human. the way to become authorized to use another person's card is to have that person INCLUDE YOU on the account... you see, you must be NAMED as an authorized user in order to buy stuff with the card of another person. no matter how much they love you or sleep with you or share your dna. otherwise? it's breaking the law, mostly by YOU, but it ain't gonna be pretty for the person who let you do it.)</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>okay, so the fish hands me a card that says, let's say, loretta p. fish. i ask him, does this card belong to you? (hey, i mean, maybe... ya know, who knows?) he says, "no.. yeah... well, it's my wife's." he's buying his fucking wife's gift with her own credit card??? ok, well, that's their business, but well... shit. i asked him politely, although i had some doubt about completing this transaction peacefully: "ok, so are you an authorized user on the account?"</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>fish says, "i guess so, it's my wife's." <i>yeah, you said that already, dumbass</i>.</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>fortunately, the credit card in question was a store card, the kind we were forced to try and force on YOU the customer everyday by asking "wanna save 10% and get a ___card?" with every breath we took. believe me, this annoys no one more than it does US. anyway, i had access to all of the accounts, so perhaps i could rectify this situation quite nicely after all.</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>me: "okay, let me look you up so i can verfiy that you are on this account in addition to the cardholder named on this card." i was trying hard to convey that it was simply protocol, not any air of suspicion toward the fish himself, which is how any question regarding one's credit card is always taken by customers. </b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>after more, "whaddya mean, it's my wife"ing, the fish shrugged like okay, i'll just have to play along with this ridiculous charade, it's the least i can do to get these mittens for my wife using her money. he handed over his driver's license so that i could make the necessary computer inquiry, and there it was, loretta p. fish's store account and credit card number, naming loretta herself as the only authorized user of the card...shit...</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>returning with an air of calm authority, I handed the fish his d.l. and explained quietly, "i'm sorry, you aren't authorized to use this account."</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>OHHH, the wailing, lamentation, and gnashing of teeth!!!!! my line of customers had now reached epic proportions, and as the fish's whining and threatening and accusing rose to another level and another, i stepped away from him and called for back-up to my register. haha. i just stepped away and i don't think he even noticed, both of us behaving as though he was a two-year-old in the midst of a tantrum and quite unable to control himself at the moment.</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>so, as amazed, angry, impatient, put-upon customers stared at the business name emblazoned on the fish's back, the fish himself raged at me accusing me of calling him a liar (i hadn't even gotten a word in to call him anything at all), saying his wife would be appalled that he hadn't been able to use her card, i (me personally, as usual) was causing him one inconvenience after another, all of which he enumerated verbally for all within range to hear...</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>i told him there was nothing that i could do about it, but that he could talk to my superior if he wished to question the issue further. i glanced meaningfully at the long line behind me to suggest to him that getting out of my face one way or another, would be the best move at this point.</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>...well, SHOCKER! the fish threw his $15 mitten set down on the counter and just stormed out, still cursing me and all and sundry issue of my womb for all generations forever. but you'll notice he did not wish to see my manager. huh... see, in my experience when someone wishes to make his case, because he believes he is in the right, and the conniving little cashier who has attempted to thwart him from purchasing the item of his desire, is in the wrong (why do they think we CARE enough to do so??? why do they think we are loyal to our company enough to prevent them from using a coupon if we can help it? or to jack up prices and such? i promise you, the cashiers are not loyal to the company store in this manner and would never be called on to do such things, nor would they do them if they were told)... they will see the manager in that situation.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>so the fish abused and cursed and berated me, after santa had already done so, and in front of all these customers, and on christmas eve, and while sartorially advertising his own business to boot. and come to find out, he KNEW all along he couldn't use that card! for all i know, he's estranged from his "wife"! maybe he is divorced from this woman! maybe she hates him, has a restraining order against him. how the eff would i know? see, this is why you can't just come up in someone's face and go, of course i'll use this credit card even though it doesn't have my name on it, because that person is my wife. i don't know you like that, fool, i don't know anything about y'all's relationship or who uses who's money and all that. see? shiiiiit.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>and that was the end of retail christmases for me. i know this is long, but well, i didn't go back to edit/cut it, i just left it the way it is, just like my rambling brain full of thoughts. now you know what it's like to be me, haha</b></span>Tatyanna (and Dorian too)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07646542379329722446noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5910150655433987825.post-43241554069972675252010-12-14T01:22:00.000-06:002010-12-14T01:22:33.559-06:00I'm Still Here...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>...and I'm NOT Joaquin Phoenix :) Hey, I saw that movie recently though; has anyone else? Does anyone even know what the hell I'm talking about? I'd like to hear your opinion(s) if you've seen it. I'll share mine as well.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>I'm assuming that there are still people out there (perhaps cats? brought in by my Dorian's much more exciting and interesting blog?) reading this... yes, I've been away for an inexcusable amount of time. But I've been in such an ugly mood, and I just couldn't for the life of me (quite literally, I felt on most days) come up with anything to write about that wouldn't drag you all right down in it with me... right down in IT, that is to say.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>But fuck it, ya know? After so much wallowing, I got busy decorating my new mansion (bigger than the last one, two-bedroom apartment, which I truly love, and which-- hallelujah!!-- is filled with sunshine, or at least in the wintertime here, some outside light shining in). The past two days I've spent actually getting to use the Christmas decorations which have been stored away for years, ever since I had my first place. When I lost that (long story, I'll share it next time), I had nowhere to use my little sparkly trees and lights and mangers ... but now, well, it's ON! And yes, I am quite enjoying this decorating. Nope, I'm most certainly NOT a holiday-loving-Martha-Stewart-crafty-nutjob like "that." But there's a whole story/philosophy behind this too.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>SO, I sat down to write tonight/this morning to let all y'all know that I live! And that I plan to start writing regularly again. And while many say that, I actually DO it, because I am a writer. Even if no one reads it, even if it sucks or whatever. I wish to keep this blog chugging along, so I'm back at it after my unplanned hiatus. So if you're interested in hearing the aforementioned tales of woe, and other sordid miscellanea, then by all means, stop on by in the next day or two!</b></span>Tatyanna (and Dorian too)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07646542379329722446noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5910150655433987825.post-61322671069572893192010-11-08T16:08:00.001-06:002010-11-09T00:22:28.491-06:00Lighter Fare This Week...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Oooh! i hate it when i don't post for so long! and i really have lots to say; in fact, a few times in the past week i have begun a post, only to delete it, because i thought it just got too ... too ... well, too ramble-y, you know? the way that my thoughts often are but that i try to organize and pare down to the essentials when i write for a (possible? small? somewhere, someday?) audience :)</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>anyway, the first thing on today's "lightness" menu is this link which was sent to me via one of my email subscriptions; the HuffingtonPost, which i do consider one of my favorite hodgepodge blogs, always has these montage-type posts that are filled with photos, advertisements, newspaper articles and the like ... all gathered with a theme of something outrageous and usually something that i, and apparently people of like mind with me, find hilarious. but today, ohhhh today! just go <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/11/08/accidentally-racist_n_780184.html#s174921">here</a> and see for yourself, paying SPECIAL attention to PHOTO NUMBER SIX (please)... go on, i'll wait... really, if you're in a rush, you can JUST look at number SIX! ... ...</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>back? okay then. here's the astonishing thing: I took the exact same photograph like 8 years ago whilst on a road trip to the indiana state fair, accompanied by my best friend and my brother, to see the ill-fated boy band O-TOWN perform. dammit! but before we get to THAT little tidbit... how and why did i find myself at such a <s>state of mind</s> shrine to ridiculous racism, which apparently was SO hilariously inappropriate and ridiculous that the HuffPost AND i found it appealing -- nay, necessary -- to snap a photo?! allow me to explain...</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>while driving for what was the first time for all of us in our neighboring state, we had only to cross the border before launching into a full-blown attack on their inferiority (i apologize now, okay? i was immature and pathetically trying to find an identity, if only one attached to my midwestern "prairie" state). i successfully ran a crazed truck driver onto the shoulder so that i and others could pass him after he had been spotted for miles and miles aggressively nudging and forcing small cars and other 18-wheelers out of his lanes. in the traffic jam that you will almost always find just over the bridge / state line between IL and IN, i was actually cheered and given fist pumps of approval for my aggressive off-roadin' while, well, ON the road. that was fun. it only served to encourage the raucous behavior and the mental state that one often acquires on a road trip with friends ... that in which everything is hilarious, and no one else ever noticed it before you and your witty, genius friends. </b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>well, the traffic broke open, and we drove through little town after little town, on and on through flat lands of grass and factory smoke and some corn (yes, it's the same here, and in our OTHER neighboring state, Iowa, except i would estimate that in IA, they have more corn, less factory smoke). we were about 45 minutes or something from our destination, hungry and almost not finding everything funny anymore ... when we saw that sign (is that right? perhaps i was delirious? i cannot recall exactly where these towns are, and quite frankly, i've not been motivated to look 'em up on google earth, ok?)! </b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>"look! look!" i screamed, slowing down, because hey, there wasn't any traffic to engage in vehicular fisticuffs anyway ... there was a state highway sign informing us that these two towns were coming up in three quarters of a mile! thank you, highway department of Indiana! that sign gave me an idea that something was strange and that we needed photographic proof. summoning my camera from phil, my friend and navigator at the time, we actually found this important enough to pull over onto the shoulder and get out of the car. yes, we really did. </b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>"this state is hicksville central," i joked, "there are two SEPARATE, but i'm sure EQUAL, towns for 'whites' and 'browns,' and i think we all know what they mean by that." always one to jump in when an inappropriate or uncouth statement is being made (you might call it a joke if you share our sense of humor), phil said, "so where do red and yellow stay?" but THAT remained a mystery during our visit...as, so far, we have not seen any towns or cities in IN that indicate where any other races should go.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>SO the picture was developed from my disposable road trip camera ... EIGHT years ago, or possibly more??? i'd have to pull my O-TOWN/Indy State Fair ticket out of its memorabilia box to be certain. And now, somehow, someone else has seen fit to publish the same photo (taken under very similar circumstances, wouldn't you guess?) in this "ridiculous" compilation. i think i'm offended that MINE wasn't used. i think i'm also offended that the HuffPost is getting all the credit for my old, worn-out, COLLEGE jokes. </b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>also, tell me what you think, but ... i dunno, to me most of those pictures weren't very hilarious; they were kind of just ... offensive. have i turned too serious or something? i mean, racism isn't actually funny, after all. </b></span></span>Tatyanna (and Dorian too)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07646542379329722446noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5910150655433987825.post-50748009270202728982010-10-28T21:23:00.001-05:002010-10-28T21:31:18.015-05:00Toni Keller<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Okay, I have a lot of blogging built up inside that is just pushing and shoving its way, itching to get out. And I will be working on posts that I've promised such as one on "Sister Wives" (oh the many words of horror to be written....), but...</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Let's get this first thing out there, well, first. As I've mentioned before, my undergraduate degree is from a state university in Illinois called northern illinois university. it has a pretty good law school and a kick-ass business school (like top in the nation), but other than that, not a lot of folks know much about it. a couple of years ago on valentine's day, it got some notorious mention because it was the site of a school shooting/massacre. my fucking heart almost stopped that day; my brother was undergrad there at the time. fortunately for us (and not at all to make light of the lives that WERE lost that day), he was not injured. however, the psychological stress and damage that occurred in the lives of the students who were in class or on campus that day lives on. my brother was on his way to a building very near the shooter and found himself hiding in yet another building, running and confused in between, and generally part of the chaos that had ensued in the blink of an eye. i am not doing the situation justice, but that is because that isn't what this particular post is about tonight.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>no, tonight is about toni keller, a freshman at niu who went missing two weeks ago and is now presumed deceased, murdered actually. we the public, we the alumni, the "we" who are her family and friends, and any other "we" you can name among us ... WE do not have any accurate information about what happened to her. here is what i personally know from reading and researching and watching news shows. if there is more, and certainly if there are inaccuracies, do comment or email:</b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>**remains thought to be toni's but which remain unidentified at this time were found two days or less after she went missing by dekalb / niu police (i shall lump them together, because they seem to be working as one, and i don't know which body has provided which evidence, info, etc.) ; however, police did not make this information public until a few days AGO.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>**police have now released the information that the unidentified remains were found among other evidence that was "consistent with materials" said to be on toni's person when she was last seen.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>**for the week or so between the finding of remains and the providing of this information to the public, niu/dekalb police made no statement to indicate to students and others that homicide was a possibility or that their efforts (putting up fliers, etc) might be in vain... let alone the fact that they might need to take extra precautions in light of a possible right-next-to-campus murder. </b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>**in fact, during that time period, police encouraged students and other volunteers to continue their efforts at notifying the community of the missing student, doing what they could to find information on her whereabouts, and other activities that were in vain and could also be dangerous in light of what police knew.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>....so i could on about the facts like that, but it's really been a murky fuck-up. it's like the keystone cops up there. dekalb is a farm town, a small town for sure, with the college life being the main "culture" outside of the rural. i am not in any way slamming the rural life; after all, i'm a midwesterner, born and bred, and I respect the back-breaking, financially perilous work that farmers do (although i'm pleased to report that i've known some IL farmers who have been quite wealthy and NOT from selling off to retail or whatever, but i digress...).</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>what i'm saying is that i'm sure what the police and niu are doing and have already done was for the sake of "public relations and image." and when i make an accusation like saying they're "keystone cops," oh, yes, i realize it's an old stereotype of rural, small-town cops. i said it, wrote it, because it's the truth. they have made me so ashamed, so so so disgusted and angry and ASHAMED to be any part of them, alumni, resident of the state, whatever. not to mention the fact that i come from a family THICK with police officers, police support staff such as 911 operators, and attorneys. i know about "P.R." in cases like this, ok? i understand that the police can't "tip their hand" to the murderer and all that shit. and you know what? they could have handled this 1,000% better and more appropriately and still done their jobs. so i sure hope i don't hear them come out later, with any "hindsight is 20/20" bullshit, because that's horsecrap. and hey, horse crap, they should know about out there. ha. dig.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>seriously now. tonight the news is that there is a "person of interest" which we all know means a person who will be a suspect once we are sure we have the evidence (or the right guy). keeping consistent with prior form, the police have not said where, only that this p.o.i. is being held in another state (indiana? florida? hawaii?) where he committed some crimes. extradition is said to be "pending." ohhh lawd. will the state in question even extradite this guy???? is anyone from dekalb/niu going out to speak to him or question him? does anyone know what they're doing with a suspect (oops, person of interest) in these circumstances? because, oh, by the way, they don't accept help from other police departments from what i'm told.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>there's a lot more to say, the kind of information swirling in my head that i really should make an outline of, and then write it in an appropriate form, like a legal research paper or whatever, a legal opinion essay more realistically. people don't think you know what you're talking about when you just spout off, i realize, but i know what i'm talking about, believe me. or don't. i could give a shit. the main thing tonight is that i hope and pray someone somewhere (a police officer, ideally) is ON the person who did this horrible crime to this poor girl (IF it turns out the remains are hers and this is what happened to her, which is not certain but seems very likely, sadly). also, my prayers and i know that prayers of students and alumni all over the community are with her family, who are the newest victims in all of this: at least we can hope toni is at peace somewhere now...</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>NOW LET'S GET JUSTICE, ANSWERS, AND THE HOPE FOR EVENTUAL PEACE FOR TONI'S FAMILY.</b></span></span>Tatyanna (and Dorian too)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07646542379329722446noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5910150655433987825.post-68399492236586007232010-10-14T10:48:00.001-05:002010-10-17T01:23:30.804-05:00A Rambling (Stream o' Consciousness)<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>hooooo...ohhhkay. as you might have guessed (or hell, maybe not), i've been wanting to write more frequently in this blog, and dammit, i'm going to do it, i AM doing it... also, i've been wanting to write a little bit differently, maybe with a different level of openness, different authenticity, whatever, MORE of all that. this sounds silly when i say it (write it, whatever) to y'all, but what i'm about to try and describe is so true for me at this exact point in my life:</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>i don't know whether this is common throughout creative writing classes in the whole u.s. or the world over, but my writing education steeped me in the training of how to use what's commonly referred to as stream-of-consciousness writing. i was taught to do this as a form of journaling, brainstorming, getting past writer's block and basically any other time that i needed to get my feelings or the "junk" that is blocking them onto paper. it doesn't always work for me, but usually it does, pretty damn well.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>another way that this might work -- and i say might only because it's a method i was reading about literally only 2 or 3 days ago and thus haven't tried it yet for myself -- is to write your feelings or thoughts or (this was the specific exercise suggested in the book i was reading) the answers to specific questions you ask yourself about your life, your future. but the catch is you write the answers down using your non-dominant hand! so, yes, folks, to do it properly, it requires a good old-fashioned pen-and-paper i suppose. but you could always transfer what you wrote onto the computer if you wish to journal it and keep it for future reference. the author who was explaining this method had a fairly lengthy chapter about why and how this works and why it's worth it doing and practicing (he went so far as to suggest you might eventually even get in touch with your sixth sense, psychic abilities, etc.. but i'm not going to go there for now, not for this post. ask me about the book if you are interested in knowing all about the specifics, k?).</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>so, i suppose i'm being extremely verbose just to tell my readers that i'm going to try and write in a more casual format for awhile now. you know what it is? probably my big fat ego! i'm an educated and sometimes-professional writer/editor, and probably what it comes down to is the fact that i can't bear to write a blog without punctuation and all that shite without EXPLAINING. ahhh well. at least i know myself. somewhat. and truly, i often feel that writing is one of the only "gifts" or talents or whatever that i have, one of the only shots i have at being in a career or successful or something like that (this is usually how i feel more when i'm being overly emotional rather than reasonable and planning my life logically). so this is whence and why i get this way, act this way ... am i just so insufferable? </b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>well, here's part 2 of my whole "thing." i've been working on a separate blog, also written in casual format like this. i've been practicing and sort of exploring where i truly want it to take me, what kinds of things i truly want to write about and how they differ from what i write here. now i'm going to try the same thing here, and maybe the two will become one. if they don't, then i have a problem with this one, and it is that i don't feel comfortable being open here. i can guess a number of reasons for that, but i'm not going to worry about it yet. i'm going to push myself to create an open journalistic/memoir blog here, just like i set out to do in the beginning. for the time being, i'll use my private one to try out ideas, to write rough drafts, etc. </b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>i've gotten flak over the years, in addition to openly-confused questions, from all sorts of people online, as well as those who know me in "real" life; they want to know why we bloggers (those who write blogs as personal expressions, as records or diaries of our lives anyway) feel compelled to share our struggles, our mistakes, even our illegal activities at times, with the world. some people have become hostile toward me, expressed hateful opinions toward others who blog in this manner, because they don't understand, don't approve, whatever. </b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>it's not that i owe anyone a fucking explanation, because i know that i don't, please believe. in fact, i am damn unapologetic about most of my life (except ignoring punctuation and such, teehee), even or especially when it flies in the face of supposed social mores. but oh, i suppose now i'm getting into what should be my next post, or some subsequent one. people have a problem with my blogging about real life, my personal life, my issues, concerns, feelings, anger, etc. because you know, what if you are a person in my "real" life, and what if i'm mad at you? what if i hate something you've done? what if i'm just flat out annoyed with you right now? what if i hate your fucking stupid taste in music? what if you pissed me off with a "typical" comment this week and i didn't say anything and i want to brood about it right here on my blog before i address it with you? ya know?</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>well, this is the type of thing i've been trying to settle in my mind, sort out, write out, divvy up with my left hand as guide, etc. and for the record, those examples of petty arguments, anger, irritations, etc. were NOT specific events going on right now toward any specific people in my life right now, so don't even go there, people who know me!!!!! what i'm saying is this, and i suppose that for some folks out there reading, it might be one of the most important parts of this post:</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b><i>i have decided that i am not going to censor myself in writing endeavors; thus, reading or not reading this is all up to you, and perhaps whatever i write does not affect your life to the point of affecting any real change in your emotional status, etc. and that's great. </i> because the bigger my audience, be they raging lunatics or adoring fans, the happier this writer blogger girl is. </b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>that is all for now.</b></span></span>Tatyanna (and Dorian too)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07646542379329722446noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5910150655433987825.post-14085262225251707152010-09-30T19:05:00.000-05:002010-09-30T19:05:34.615-05:00Recovery<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Okay, fine, I guess I might as well admit that this whole thing with my cat has me scared shitless. What a nerd. What a wimp. I don't want to leave him, and I can't get interested in movies or books or anything, not even my writing very much, until I see that he is ... well, until he is <i>himself</i>. I never had a cat before Dorian, and although I've had him now for over six years, those have been blessedly healthy, incident-free years for the most part. Having his three teeth pulled, and all the anesthesia, anti-biotics, pain-killers, mushed-up food, etc., that entails, is waaaay beyond anything that he and I have previously experienced. It's also beyond what either of us -- and I'm fairly certain I can speak for both cat and myself here -- expected. He once had dental work a couple of years ago, but it was only a cleaning ... and yes, the anesthesia confused him and made him totter around in a haze for a few days, but it wasn't like this. He only hid out under the bed that time for a few hours, then woke up and heard my boyfriend and I downstairs talking and singing out to him of treats and fresh food ... and he came down to play and snuggle. Soon all the trauma was forgotten...</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>This is more difficult, because if I offer a treat, it will have to be a soggy one, that I have softened with warm water like his other food (canned and "wet" food are available to him here, but he's always hated them); I'm hoping and yet doubtful that he will like this formulation. Also, for the next 9 days, I will have to remain a dubious enemy of sorts, trying to create a routine wherein I am able to shoot a syringe full of amoxicillin down his throat twice a day. I feel like this will make his forgetting my transgressions (car ride, entrapment in cat-carrier, abandonment at the vet, etc) much more difficult. </b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>The thing is, I've always been confident in the fact that if I'm doing what's right for him, and it's keeping him strong and healthy, then the rest will come, because clearly, I love the little dude to bits! But I've never faced a situation where what I had to do made him seem so very UNhappy. I mean, not for such a long time. I'm sure those of you who have HUMAN children think I'm an idiot, going on about all of this shit, but the fact remains that I've never had to raise a child, never had to care for anyone who is very sick, and never had to nurse my beloved pet through much of a difficult recovery. Just like I have not had a child grow into a teenager who tells me she "hates" me, I have never before had a cat who usually licks and purrs and cuddles with me, who heralds my homecoming on a daily basis with happy meows, behave like he FEARS and/or LOATHES me. And if it isn't personal, then he's simply reacting badly to what he's been through, and he's depressed and lethargic. Either way, it's bad. And I've not had a cat before, and I'm never sure what's a "normal" reaction and what should constitute a call to the veterinary clinic. My vet is very good, very understanding, and they have never made me feel like a pain or like I was being ridiculous about something ... they are just as devoted to animals as the most loving pet-owner, so that's all good.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>I can only effing IMAGINE myself as a mom, now more than ever! I mean, I keep saying oh, I've never before had a cat, so I don't want to be hysterical but also I don't want to miss the signs of anything that's wrong... If I had a child, for the love of God, I'd be doing this every damn day probably! Oh the humanity. And I know that in the grand scheme of everything, it's sort of small-minded and un-important and, well, dumb, to sit and be all upset about the cat not "liking" me right now or being "mad" or whatever. But it's a perfect storm: I've had a hard year, I've been alone at home with only Dorian for a companion a lot more than any other year, and we've been best mates in a way, you know. When I've been sick with my migraines, he seems to "get" it, and he lies by my side in bed, patiently waiting, for HOURS sometimes before being fed or getting a clean litterbox, when I'm able to get up and do these things, or to have a friend come from work to help or whatever. He's a smart little guy, and loyal in a very uncommon way for a cat, and well, I miss him and don't like it when he's avoiding me. And when I say that, write it, even THINK it, I know I sound stupid, but oh well, it's true. </b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Well, I just replenished his un-touched water and checked on him. The latter consists of my pulling up the bedspread to look at his eyes and poke or prod him so that I can see how he's breathing, THAT he's breathing. He usually glares at me, edges away to where I can't reach him (I've always found it fascinating the way that a cat can move to a point EXACTLY beyond your reach, no more and no less, so that you reach out to pet him and your fingertips just miss, haha), and then I go back to my couch where I'm watching TV and not doing anything productive, getting so excited when my friends/family call or come over to keep me company. What a case I am, huh? I have to say that it was a little bit funny in the night last night; I was sleeping (not in the room where he hides), but I woke up three different times because I heard him meowing... And there he was, in a place outside my door where I could see him, just staring at me and meowing. But when I got up on my elbow and spoke to him, he darted back to his hidey-hole. I pictured a cartoon cat soon to be standing up on hind legs over me with a human-size carrier, or a medicine syringe like the one I gave him, or something (a shiny blade?!), laughing maniacally, hovering over me as I slept. </b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>OH! He walks! He just came out a few times to peer at me with a very serious and stoic look! He came as far as our living room to size everything up. This is good progress! And just in time, 'cuz I'm stirring up a batch of warm water with dry kibble for him, which should puff and soak satisfactorily in a few minutes! MMMM. I'll keep you all posted. </b></span></span><br />
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</b></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>However, I feel all out-of-sorts. I can't decide whether to take a nap or to try to stay busy ... and I think the latter will lead to mania, with me just running around and starting various projects, which no doubt need to be done but none of which I will finish. The whole thinking process about all of it just exhausts me, and then I guess I should just take that nap... But I have some new books, and maybe I could read, and I'm just <i>out-of-sorts</i>!</b></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b><br />
</b></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>The problem? My precious baby Dorian-Cat is at the Vet today. For the <i>whole</i> day. He's being put under anesthesia and getting his teeth cleaned. At his recent appointment they found some pretty bad gum irritation and tooth decay starting, and he might have to have one tooth pulled. I didn't know how prone he was to this problem, but I have resolved to work on teeth-brushing with him. He will hate it, but it's better than this!!!! </b></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>I mention all of this, because I grew up in a generation that was extremely unique in at least one way. The kids that I grew up with and I only ever knew peace times. I mean, there were scuffles and military involvement in different events during my life, yes. But not like what's going on now. And not like Vietnam or any war that came before it. </b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>I should stop here and point out that I do realize a "generation" is defined differently by many different people, and depending on context. For my purposes, I'm speaking of the kids who came of age, say grew up and became teenagers, with me... Let's say about 7 years time. My brother is 7 years younger than I am, and his own classmates definitely have their own "generation" with its own music and culture and experiences ... some overlapping mine, but many new and all their own.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>I was a Junior in High School when the United States entered into the Gulf War. Even then, I don't believe that my generation gained much understanding of what it means to be at war, to go to battle, to face a world wherein bloodshed is being caused by and happening to our own military on a large scale. If you were someone who had a personal relationship to a soldier or other military member who fought in the Gulf War, that's different. I understand that having personal involvement changes everything, especially for those who lost someone. And what I write here is not intended to belittle the efforts of such people in any way; in fact, quite the opposite. Because if you were like me and so many Americans growing up then, the Gulf War just looked like the United States triumph we were taught to expect. Even the news was not all that serious (anyone remember the "scud stud," i.e. Arthur Kent?), full of quick justice being dealt by the U.S. before the mighty military came on home to celebrate and laugh at anyone who would challenge our super-power nation. That is the attitude and confidence, however falsely founded, that I was taught.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>I now know that it is a very blessed and unique thing, for which I am full of gratitude, to grow up in such a world, where my country seemed like a safe and mighty fortress in which to live. My generation <i>never</i> knew fear, not the particular kind that enters into a land and sits with its people night after night, when a nation is at war.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>As High School graduation approached for my class and those behind us, many kids announced their plans to enlist in a branch of our military. Some kids had already entered into ROTC programs. The woman that I am today is unspeakably ashamed to tell this, but it's the truth nonetheless: these kids were usually regarded as the ones who didn't have any other options. I mean, the general thinking of the day was: why wouldn't you go to college, or get a job making some money, go get married, etc., after High School? The only good reason to join our military was because you needed money for college and couldn't get it any other way, or to learn a "trade," as the advertisements promised, because you weren't interested or capable of getting into college <i>or</i> getting a good job right out of school. When recruiters came to our school and were allowed to set up a table in our cafeteria (but not to approach us ... they could only speak to interested parties who approached <i>them</i>), most kids just ignored them. If you were seen getting information from the recruiters or talking to them, it was just like this weird stigma... like oh, look, there's a kid who has to go into the military, he/she has no other options.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>I did not take notice of this ideology one way or another until years later. I had my own plans and was very determined to stay on my own "right track" at that time. No, I was not one of those who made fun of other kids for going to the military or any other reason. I didn't judge people, as I don't now. But looking back, I know that the kids <i>were</i> judged. And I've spent a lot of time trying to figure out why.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>To learn about that war and so many other aspects of what our country has done, been like, etc., I've had to educate myself. I did not learn most of the things I feel are very important about our nation's place in the world until after college, when I took it upon myself to ask questions of relatives and friends, to read all the books and other literature I could find, to know this place where I grew up safe and sheltered.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Today, largely because of what happened on September 11, 2001, I live in a different environment, a different world of ideas and ideals. Now I have lived to see the boys who are of age voice their opinions on what they would do should another draft be put into effect. Now I have known grown men (and a few women), my former classmates and my friends, who have enlisted. Now I have communicated with guys from my neighborhood, my generation, all over the world, some who have been sent into battle and some who have not. Now I'm living in the world that most people have always lived in, the one in which wars break out, the one in which war changes everything, the one in which people go away to serve those of us living here at home, and sometimes they don't come back. I am sobered and humbled and matured by these experiences and this knowledge. I have changed along with the world in which I live, along with my country. I, like everyone else, changed on that September day, for always.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>If you are among the many people from all over the world who lost someone on September 11, God bless you. My prayers and thoughts are always with you, not lessened at all by the time that has passed. I will not be one who forgets that day.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>If you or your loved ones are fighting for us, or stationed and trained anywhere in the world prepared to do so, my heart and thoughts are with you. I pray that God will bless you and keep you and bring you back home to peace times again. And I thank you for serving this country that I love.</b></span></span>Tatyanna (and Dorian too)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07646542379329722446noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5910150655433987825.post-85949879081596482202010-09-03T15:56:00.001-05:002010-09-03T15:57:40.554-05:00A Good Week!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>This was a much-improved week. Started out last Saturday (close enough to the "start" of the week for me!) with tickets to the Sox-Yankees game, which was here at home... Home being U.S. Cellular Field in south-side Chicago, for those who don't follow baseball. It's so sad that, although I've been a major baseball fan since birth, I've only been to "the Cell" (as the Sox park is nicknamed) once since it was named and built. It used to be Comiskey Park, waaaay back in the day, and I'd been there, but this park is a lot different.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>I didn't bring my camera, and I can't believe it now! I had no freaking idea or memory of the fact that the Cell has these amazing 360-degree views (obviously, depending on what gate you are standing by, the level you are on, etc) of the entire city skyline! It was GORGEOUS! The night couldn't have been more PERFECT for an evening baseball game, although the Yankees beat us. But I mean, this view is breath-taking! If you come to our city, I guarantee you won't get this view anywhere else except maybe the Willis/Sears Tower. But of course there you can't take an outdoor picture (at least, not to my knowledge ... if they're letting people go outside up there nowadays, then, no one has informed me!). </b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>I really wish I'd brought my camera, but see, I was all befuddled by the security measures that allowed only small backpacks/purses/bags into the park. I read that beforehand, and perhaps now would be the time to inform those who don't spend time with me personally that I always carry a huge bag or backpack with me. I just can't seem to get away from it. I have my various magazines, medicines (especially those), my e-reader, etc. etc. on and on! And I just have to schlep everything and don't mind doing it. But these days, you have to check on such matters, because many places won't let you bring your huge bag of migraine meds and magazines (haha) into their facility, depending on what it is. Ok, so I digress as usual ...</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>So I had packed all my essential crap into a purse (yes, I do own a few, but rarely use 'em) and just didn't know or have the mind-set to deal with the camera. Oh, and I don't have a camera on my phone, if you can even imagine, haha, because my phone is like 5 years old and doesn't even know what a photo IS. It's not that I'm cheap or even that I can't trade my phone in by now for a newer model, but ... every time I go looking at them, I get too overwhelmed. I mean, I really don't NEED all that shit. I have a great camera, a good mp3 player, and quite frankly, I don't even want that crap on my telephone!!! I do, however, wish to surf the internet and text all the time with it. So I don't know, I'll get to that sooner or later... probably later.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Um, so yeah, that was my last-Saturday start to the week, and this week has been pretty darn good. It was soooo good to get OUT with, like, humans! I had a really cool person seated next to me at the game. I mean, my friend Steph, sat on one side, yes. But the one who was a stranger, well, you never know what you're gonna get, but I got a good one. I'll tell you about him in an upcoming post, 'cuz he is a Vietnam Vet and actually deserves his own post.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Steph is a friend I worked with for years at my favorite job; yet we hadn't seen each other for like 5 years probably before going to the game together. And you know what? It was pretty much like no time had passed. I mean, we had lots of catching up to do, but we laughed our asses off and just had the same kind of fun we always had. So it was all good.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>I tried to keep my momentum going by getting in touch with friends and family and getting out a little more this week ... yesterday we visited the Lincoln Park Zoo (also in Chicago...Lincoln Park is a neighborhood there). Oh, I took some pictures THERE, you better believe it! So I have lots more to write about. Soon!</b></span></span>Tatyanna (and Dorian too)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07646542379329722446noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5910150655433987825.post-80433962427394201842010-08-27T01:15:00.000-05:002010-08-27T01:15:56.593-05:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Oh I'm not sure <i>where</i> to start today. I am actually in this strange and awful place wherein I feel the need to write ... and write and write, just to get it out, you know? And at the same time, ick, I just don't even want to hear my own damn voice. I know from writing in school and writing for professional assignments, that it really helps me to just write, almost a stream of consciousness or to utilize writing prompts (I have a book I'm currently using with a topic or prompt for each day of the year). The purpose of this type of writing is just to get all the gunk outta my head so that the real stuff, the real point and purpose of what I want to say can shine through. Maybe it sounds nutty to some, but this is what works for me as a writer. </b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>I guess I'm in a bit of a writer's ... not a <i>block</i> exactly, but some kind of <i>funk</i>. I suspect that even when I try, even when I think that I'm doing it, I am no longer writing or blogging authentically. And in my opinion, if I'm not going to come on with it, as I describe that hard-hitting genuine writing that's so compelling in any sort of first-person narrative ... well, then just hang it up, geez. You might be familiar with one of my favorite bloggers, <a href="http://ppfaceannagrace.blogspot.com/">Anna</a>. Before you click, if you haven't done so in the past, I will tell you that she is an admitted drug addict and she writes a completely honest and therefore completely graphic blog about ... everything that goes on in her life. And I adore her. I mean it. Nope, I don't know the girl. Don't know whether we'd ever be friends or even have anything to talk about if we met. But as a blogger, she is the absolute shit in my eyes. Because it doesn't matter what mental state she's in, doesn't matter what emotion she's feeling, what she's going through ... it's not about the external material for her writing. It's her narrative, her explicit descriptions and reporting on what she feels and sees and thinks and wonders about ... she conveys her humanity quite exquisitely. </b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>I've written like that in my life before. I'm not sure whether I ever did it as consistently as Anna, but I sure as hell came a lot closer to it than I'm doing now. It's not just my blog, it's anything I write. I have a Hub-Page, I write a journal, I do some writing exercises ... it's everything. I'm off my game. </b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>This is depressing to write about. I think the reason I'm off my writing game is that ... surprise surprise ... I'm just "off" in life. Maybe I'm not facing things that I need to face. Maybe I'm not living authentically. Maybe I'm scared of a lot of things right now, and I'm allowing fear to stop me from writing and from living. I think that on some level, I know that at least some of this is true. And ya know what's pathetic? It only makes me loathe myself. I hate myself for it. Every word that isn't what I want it to be, every single time that I see myself as a diminished version of the woman that I was or was becoming earlier in life ... that woman who I could right now definitely and confidently describe to you ... every time I think about the discrepancy between the two, I feel disgusted with myself. That's it. I knew if I wrote about it, I'd get to the bottom of it. I hate where I am right now, hate what I'm doing with my gifts and my talents and the blessings of my life. </b></span></span>Tatyanna (and Dorian too)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07646542379329722446noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5910150655433987825.post-69479593922776211492010-08-19T01:53:00.002-05:002010-08-19T02:03:21.436-05:00Go There, Then Come Back Here<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Okay! Check out this <a href="http://mylifeisaverage.com/">website</a>, because ... because ... you MUST. It makes me laugh, especially when I'm in that sort of bitter-but-not-REALLY and melancholy moods, both of which fuel my cynical "gallows" type of humor. It might also be described as "Office Space" humor. </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>After you tire of that (as if!), check out my "A Few of My Favorite Things" blog roll to the left. I've begun late-summer cleaning and purging, people!! This list is meant to be a true representation of the blogs (and occasionally other sorts of site) that I do indeed consider "favorite." Therefore, I have deleted a few blogs (perhaps the reasoning behind such decisions will be a forthcoming post itself) and added a few new favorites. If you like my fellow bloggers' words, drop them a comment and say so. After all, your comments are the way that I "met" most of you! And if you hate them, well, hey, it's up to you what you wish to say or refrain from saying! 'Tis the life of us bloggers.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>...Because in the meantime, while you're being sent to and fro by, well, me, I have a coupla new blog themes or possibly features and the like which will be posted in the not-too-distant future. I'm taking a new direction with my writing -- and of course that includes TerminallyUniq... STAY TUNED! :)</b></span>Tatyanna (and Dorian too)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07646542379329722446noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5910150655433987825.post-26565018477255184942010-08-15T19:25:00.000-05:002010-08-15T19:25:08.969-05:00Fierce?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Sheesh. As if I weren't already grouchy, cranky, or whatever you want to call it. Now I'm reading this book, and I just have to mention it. It's called "Fierce," and it's a memoir by Barbara Robinette Moss. I guess it's a sequel of sorts to an earlier memoir she wrote that focused more on her childhood; that one was called "Make Me Into Zeus' Daughter." I didn't read that one, because this one appealed to me more with its focus being on her trying to make her way through adulthood. She, like me, and like many of my readers, is an ACOA, an Adult Child of Alcoholic(s). That shitty label can make itself known in many hideous ways, but we all have quite a few things in common; so I like to read memoirs like this. Usually.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>But damn, woman! That's what I keep saying as I go through the book. First of all, I got about 10 books in the last month, between loaners from friends, a couple e-book purchases, and the library. And out of the EIGHT I've already peered into, this was one of only TWO that even seemed decent. It was a real strike-out of a book haul this time. I will try to read a little more of my other books, but they don't look too promising so far. </b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Anyway, the whole time I'm reading this book, I just can't stop shaking my head. I'm bewildered. I mean, okay, I don't know Ms. Moss' exact age; I suppose I could cipher it if I took the time, but I haven't. She must be the age of MY parents, roughly; her own father, the drunk in this scenario, was a WW2 vet. And I know that the times were different when she was growing up, but man, was she naive, even into adulthood, even halfway through this book when she's been divorced twice, lived in 3 states, and had a child! And she just keeps making all of these crap decisions that make me think, Damn, there's a difference between being effed up from an ACOA upbringing and just lacking common sense completely. Wow.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>I was drawn to the book, because the e-book store kept suggesting it to me, supposedly because it matched up to my other purchased books. I made note of that, but then I also saw it reviewed on Amazon recently. Oh, there were all these positive reviews about the author's candor and overcoming this and that! It sounded like it would be right up my alley! So I'm going to read it through. I'll give her this: she writes in such a way as to keep me turning the pages, if not feeling sympathetic toward or relating to her. I'll let you all know what I think when I'm finished.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>So I might as well mention the other book that I read, last week. It's been on my ever-expanding book list forever, friends have been urging me to read it and saying how much they thought I would like it, on and on. I guess I wasn't clear on the plot or whatever ... it's summary sure doesn't do it justice. It's "The Help" by Kathryn Stockett. Well! I could not believe I had waited so long, with this book just OUT THERE, waiting for me to pick it on up! I simply adored it! I had to think it over, reflect, absorb, all of these things that I do with a beloved book ... and yes, now that I've done that, I can honestly tell you it is one of my Top 15 favorite books of all time. It might be Top 10; I have to sit down and think about my current list. I mean, this is including my favorite so-called "great" literature, my favorite childhood classics, poetry, whatever, all in one collection ... and this book would make the top 10-15. It is wonderful. I loved it. </b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>So there you are! As you know, I don't do any sort of regular book or movie reviews, but hey, if I like or love or hate or am confused by something, I like to discuss. And this weekend I've had one movie and two books ... and it ain't over yet!</b></span></span>Tatyanna (and Dorian too)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07646542379329722446noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5910150655433987825.post-77580414079649908982010-08-15T10:27:00.000-05:002010-08-15T10:27:56.264-05:00Rant!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>I'm so annoyed by the hypocritical and -- perhaps even more -- the Puritanical -- attitudes in this country! So I'm watching the movie, "Kickass," right? I've actually only gotten halfway through it right now, as I'm writing. I'm watching it now, because I bought it OnDemand from my cable company ... I thought I had it for 48 hours, but no... so, then, just having to know how it ended, I bought it again today. I'm not sure the movie is worth the $10 I've now spent on it, but it <i>is</i> good. And funny. I like its originality and spunk. SO the other day, after I'd begun watching it, I was telling a few people about it, and I found that not many of my friends had seen it. I reminded them that it was the movie about the superhero guy that had become controversial because it stars a 13-year-old actress whose dialog includes every swear word you can imagine including words such as "cunt" and of course "fuck" and the like. Just to give you an example, the last two people I told this to, who said they only vaguely remembered the controversy, responded with the argument, "Well, couldn't they have toned it down a little bit then?" Both people said roughly the same thing...</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>I was like, "NO! WHY WOULD THEY?" This, if you know me, is unthinkable in my opinion. Um, hello, if that's the way the character is written, then why should they "tone it down" when the stupid American "public" says something about it? That is not the way of art or literature or music or ANY creative pursuit!!!!! EVER! It's not just in the dialog for gratuitous name-calling or vulgarity! IT'S THE CHARACTER! Oooh, I was pissed off. I'm so glad the movie got made and people saw it and the role was cast perfectly in my opinion. DESPITE all this bullshit.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>I had to wonder whether the whole issue of the little pre-pubescent-looking blond girl in the role of the foul-mouthed super-heroine would have caused such a stir if she had been black or male or Mexican something else that people are more apt to <i>expect</i> vulgarity from? There's no way to know for sure...</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>You might have heard, in real-life news, that two young men were recently released from jail (or prison or whatever you call it in their case) in Florida ... they are the King brothers, who were sentenced to something like 8 years (I'd have to review the case, as to the specifics) in some form of Juvenile Hall after being found guilty of murdering their father. The unique thing about their case was that they were found guilty of their crime at ages 12 and 13. The jury recommended sentencing for both boys of Life without Parole, but the judge intervened and gave them this sentence which amounted to a second chance for them. I remember the footage, which I saw again last week as the guys were released, of these two tiny little white boys, with their bowl haircuts, who looked even younger than they were. One boy's feet didn't even touch the floor of the witness stand! And while the jury recommended a harsh sentence (I'm not saying it was right or wrong), many people commented on the fact that it was just so hard to look at these little angel-faced babies and think about the possibility of them having murdered their dad.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>And then, at the same time, in the same state, there was another case. A 14-year-old boy was being tried for the murder of his mother. I don't know as many details of this case, but I did hear how it turned out. Same thing, where the judge and jury had to consider what to do with such a young person who had maybe committed murder. If he was guilty, do we throw him away? The thing that struck me, though, was that this time the defendant was at least 6-foot tall. He was black, with a stoic, serious face throughout the proceedings (at least in the footage I saw), and a grim mug shot. He stood in court room a full head taller than his defense attorney. I fear that the mere appearance that this boy had, and any ideas or prejudgments people might knowingly or otherwise attach to that appearance would be quite different than the one that the little swinging-feet white boys had. Maybe I'm wrong. And I know that there are individuals among us who have all sorts of non-typical viewpoints and perspectives. But it just makes me wonder.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Anyway, the third boy, the 14 yr old, eventually ended up with a 10-year-sentence similar to that of the King brothers, so I guess you could say all was fair. But the 14 yr old almost exhausted all his appeals trying to get there, and it took a lot longer, and therefore I can only imagine more stress and maybe more money, attorneys' fees, etc. Just made me think about society's perceptions again. </b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>I don't think I have to tell most people that our society will gladly accept a whole bunch of violence, war, blood, rape, guts, and guns as part and parcel of any movie or tv show or video game that's out there, rated PG-13 or higher. But if you want to show a sex scene or use a swear WORD, especially out of the mouth of a little blond girl? Well, MY word! Not without an NC-17 rating on that garbage! And I think that is fucking sick, quite frankly. It's true that words are mighty, that they can hurt and soothe and unite and wound ... this is why we have laws about hate speech and such. But in the majority of contexts, words really are just words. You can swear or not, you can use big, educated words or not, etc. These are just ways we paint the picture of a person, a character, where they might have been, WHO they might have been or are going to be. As a writer, I love words and value them. But I do not believe in giving them so much power that THEY control US. And as for references and depictions of sexuality, especially when it is loving, between two people, not even something "radical" or pushing any envelope? I think it's gross that our society can't bear to look at that, can't bear to allow it in our films or TV, without crying out that it's shameful and improper and lewd.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>It seems that only violence, in any and all forms, passes with flying colors. What's wrong with this picture?</b></span></span>Tatyanna (and Dorian too)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07646542379329722446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5910150655433987825.post-12245072486137406512010-08-09T20:22:00.000-05:002010-08-09T20:22:54.813-05:00My Mum<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Okay! I tried to write about my mum a few times, and each time I got too caught up in so many different topics!!! Methinks that maybe I should write a whole book about her! Or at least I better start penning my memoirs, AND hers as well! Hmm ... maybe we could get together and write a book about ... whatever it was ... like Britney Spears and HER moms did! Yeah!</b></span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br />
</b></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>What I really wanted to convey was the simple-yet-complex fact that I am just so blessed to have my mom. And that today, as every time she is able to go with me, I was ever-so-grateful to have her along at the doctor's office. I always know, whether we discuss it explicitly beforehand or not, that she has my back. And we are so close that we can really read one another and know pretty well what is needed. I know that in a conversation with a doctor-type, where I am leading the talk as the patient and Mom is mostly listening / observing, she is nevertheless alert and aware of all that's going on every second. She will jump in and argue, plead, state a convincing point, or otherwise have me covered if need be. I don't worry about it. And I KNOW that if God forbid I were ever in some sort of "state" where I couldn't speak for myself and make my own demands, she would "come out of the box" as she puts it and tell somebody what's what. </b></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br />
</b></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>My mom has been instrumental in making me every single thing I am today of which I am proud! She brought me up to be intelligent and curious and sensitive and compassionate and non-judgmental of others ... She instilled in me that the differences between all human beings, be it our skin color or the way that our minds and bodies work or the language we speak or the thing we do especially well -- that it's THOSE things which make the world beautiful and wonderful and divine and blooming with all sorts of music and ideas and art and science and books and jokes and personality! I love that my mom instilled in me the value of diversity in ALL of its forms.</b></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br />
</b></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>My mom has a lot of other hard-core beliefs that she really and truly lives by; so that I can only hope to follow in her footsteps and do the same, really living authentically in the beliefs that I espouse. But she is also funny and warm and sociable and just always up for doing something FUN!!! My momma taught me that it's of the UTMOST importance to find the joy in life, in EVERY part of life. And what I've really learned to remember is that sometimes you need to go searching for that joy and holding onto it during those times when it seems hardest to locate or when the joys seem to be at their simplest ... when times are tough, you know. I have learned from my mom to laugh in those times, to find what is funny and ironic and joyful and amazing. </b></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br />
</b></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>There are so many things my mom teaches me all the time, so many things that I have learned and have to keep re-learning because I believe they are essential to leading a good life. A Good Life. Some of my absolute happiest, most joyful moments are spent with my mom! We always find some silly thing to talk about or laugh about or get into a conversation around. And that's on the days when we are cooped up in the car or the doc's office! When we are out on the town, forget about it!!! </b></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br />
</b></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I love you, Mum!</b></span></span></span></div>Tatyanna (and Dorian too)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07646542379329722446noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5910150655433987825.post-73453885165001183222010-08-09T15:40:00.001-05:002010-08-09T15:43:35.880-05:00To the Doctor Again!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>And so today, I had another doctor's appointment! I hadn't expected to go see the doc again so soon, but his office needed to switch the appointment, then I needed to change it, and blah blah, here we were. Sad to say, I spent the past week working myself up again into a full-on state of permanent panic. Just like the last ... what? four? five? ... times. When I first met him, then the next appt after that, then for SURE the last two times when I wasn't doing very well (those stories you already know), and now today too. I'm a real piece of work, I have to say so myself. </b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>The great thing is, today went wonderfully, just like last time, JUST LIKE LAST TIME! My mom -- BLESS HER (and I'll come back to that in a sec) -- accompanied me again, so that was wonderful; she calms me, helps me laugh even when I'm crabby and nervous, helps me find the I-Pass (because we pay tolls here in Illinois... heard we're one of only 3 states or something ... that true?) and everything like that. She's the best. But we'll get to her, like I said.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Mentally, I think I can say that I am convinced that this doctor is good. What a lame word, <i>good</i>! But what I mean by it in this case is that he is GOOD at what he does (he's an expert!); he's GOOD for me (our personalities don't clash); and he strikes me as a GOOD man. I mean, I don't think I've ever gotten to know one of my doctors well enough to sit in true judgment of him or her as a human being, like, oh what a wonderful person that doctor is, so true and loyal and wonderful and charitable and whatever! All I can know is that he seems to be genuinely trying to help me, not rushed when he's talking to me, not pushing newest drugs on me all the time, not rude to me OR to the people I've brought in with me to appointments (have had that one happen before!), and things like that. I guess these type of things make up that hard-to-pin-down category of "bedside manner" -- although I sure hope never to be bedridden again by a migraine (and I suppose that's another story too).</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>I'm feeling blessed that this doctor does not even notice the chip on my shoulder that feels so heavy to me, so obvious all the time ... Or maybe it's not that he doesn't notice, but rather that he's seen it before, that practically ALL his patients trudge in burdened by the same, having been through the same before finding him or being "sent" to him from bewildered suburban doctors ... which is how I got there. I don't know. And our working relationship is still fairly young, but now it's solid. And I'm feeling better about that. I'm thinking that possibly ... probably, even ... next appointment will not make me piss myself for a week before-hand. Maybe just the night before? Ha.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Stay tuned for the bit about my mum ...</b></span></span>Tatyanna (and Dorian too)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07646542379329722446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5910150655433987825.post-36963517005089897442010-07-22T13:55:00.000-05:002010-07-22T13:55:36.046-05:00Question For You...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>I just got home from a short getaway to Milwaukee, where I have family... that was a mini-vacation that I so needed! Yesterday was wonderful; it really kicked off summer! Yes, it might sound a little late for that, but around here, summer didn't begin until July ... June was cold, rainy, and gloomy. However long it lasts, this is the real summer kick-off!</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>So we went to the beach on Lake Michigan... just across from, well, here! We have beaches, beautiful ones actually, right here in Chicago, on- you guessed it -- Lake Michigan too. But I couldn't help but notice the vast differences. I thought I'd put the question to readers of this blog; because my friends in places like Facebook or Twitter are people who live here, grew up here with me, or are in some way too close to "here" to give a good answer. I'm wondering ... what is the general impression you have of CHICAGO? The people? The racial atmosphere? The crime? The culture? Fashion? Like, if you have ever visited, or if you imagine yourself visiting, what do you expect you'd find, in either good ways or bad? PLEASE don't hold back or worry about offending me!!! I definitely won't be offended on behalf of a city; I'm not that type, please believe. I'm really curious about how what I see living here for so long matches up with what others think, based on perhaps movies, rumors, or whatever else plants an image of a distant, unvisited place in our minds... </b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>I started to wonder about this, because Milwaukee is a completely different world, despite being another big city, with a diverse population, on the same lake, etc. At the beach, what stood out the most to me, immediately, was that every color of person was there, all mixing together, all in line at the snack bar, all laying out on towels, etc. In my experience, I don't see this at the beach in Chicago or the surrounding area. The beaches I've been to have always been predominantly white white white! Woo! I mean, the glare from the sun, sand, water, and all those white people will hurt your eyes!!! Hahaha... If you live in the area of the beach, then you have upper-class money, so that might be part of it. I have no idea. Without delving into the differences and the divides, which are always infinitely complex, it's just an observation. If you know me at all through my writing, then you know I prefer the Milwaukee beach. </b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>So I'm putting the question out there; because I'm a passionate, if amateur, anthropologist, to the end. No matter what I'm doing or where I go, I can't help but want to know how people are interacting and why and what influences their bonds and their conflicts. Sometimes I wish I could turn it off, but I usually can't. If I can't go directly to the source of something I'm wondering about, then I try to get my information from as direct a source as possible. I'm a nerd in so many ways, always in pursuit of some (pseudo)intellectual study or curiosity, despite not holding a degree in it or getting paid. Speaking of that, I should try to find a way to parlay all of this into SOME kind of job ... hmmm...</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Well, moving on ... the day at the beach was so great... I really need the sun, the activity, the exercise: my brother and I were paddling for our lives by the last leg of our Paddle Boat tour... sweat was pouring down my neck and my temples (the sweat pattern I usually think of a MAN having, ugh!!!), my brother was saying his legs hurt ... Oh it was very sad really. For me, it was so pathetic. I was an athlete growing up, always keeping to a strict regimen of workouts and "right" eating, etc. I was a 3-sport letter (wo)man, etc., you know the type. Honestly, only a little of my decline can be owed to lack of self-discipline or "laziness" or whatever. It has all fallen apart as my Disorder(s) have <i>had to</i> become my priority. I was thinking about that even before the paddle-boat experience; how I would really like to have my symptoms controlled, or better yet, gone ... to the point where I could do things like work and exercise <i>regularly, routinely</i>... Those two words have become impossibilities for me over the last few years, and it shows. Worse almost was having to learn to accept the fact that this was so.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Ever since my last treatment plan went into effect, July 2, I've been at least 50% improved in terms of pain, concentration, fatigue, and other major symptoms. That is wonderful, for sure! I am hoping so much that it lasts, that I can work with the doc to really fine-tune it over the next few visits, next few months, to build a trend of improvement. But I just never know. Two weeks is two weeks, no more and no less. It doesn't mean it can't back-slide, but it also doesn't mean it can't get even better. I have to do everything I can to support my body in healing. I am so excited for the day that I really can LIVE again. I haven't given up on that goal. Last fall, I lived that for about 4 months, my longest run of good health ever in my adult life. So I hope to get that goin again... </b></span></span>Tatyanna (and Dorian too)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07646542379329722446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5910150655433987825.post-44526959205959859252010-07-15T16:10:00.000-05:002010-07-15T16:10:36.665-05:00Notes from My Book-Selling Days...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>As I might or might not have mentioned before ... I spent a lot of years as a manager in a book store ... a couple of different locations actually, all within one large book seller that you all know well (at least in the U.S. ... I think in other countries too). I shant mention it specifically, but you know the type: big store, selling multi-media, usually with entire sections - if not entire floors -- dedicated to Children's Books, DVD's, Music, and some sort of cafe. I can actually only think of two big ones that operate right now, so take your pick.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Although working in the retail business in general is, well, hell on earth- no other way to put it, I did enjoy many parts of my career in the book world. Actually, what I really came to learn and love was all sorts of new music and all about the music industry. I suppose I applied to the job at first thinking that maybe, just maybe, I'd be placing myself in proximity to an author or agent or some publishing person that might, just maybe, "discover" me and MY writing! What I learned was that in reality, the "book people" hardly ever had contact with us. Books are churned out in printing presses, warehoused, inventoried, and ordered, all without any authors or agents being personally involved at all. HOWEVER, the music situation was quite different.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>I don't know whether it's the same now (it has been about 7 years since I left the biz), but when I worked at the stores, the music labels would send local representatives to each location on a regular basis. For example, our rep from Sony would come and bring promotional cd's from new artists, sometimes from well-known artists with new work out, etc. He was also in charge of all displays around the store having to do with Sony artists, so he would put up different posters and ads and the like, within Sony's given allotment of space. The thing was, being a manager and developing a friendly relationship with these reps, yielded awesome results! </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Through Sony and a few other major labels (who also repped their subsidiaries and thus exposed us to some great new music not being played anywhere else), I was allowed to request certain cd's for my store or personal use, ANYTHING under their label! I explored so many genres of music and different artists that I otherwise never would have heard about! It was great, a real education, a FUN education! The record labels also gave me tickets to baseball games and invites to their record label holiday parties (more freebies to be had!). It was the closest I had ever been to being an "insider" of some kind! It was really, really fun! And no, I have no loyalty to the Sony conglomerate ... I just can't remember which label was which with some of the other reps! Sony definitely gave out the most free shit. :)</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>...The thing that got me thinking about all of my happy times in book world was earlier today, when I was having a phone conversation about authors and which stores in my area seem to get the best ones to come out for signings, etc. We got on to the subject of emerging literary "stars," and how it would behoove these stores to grab such writers just as their star is rising ... later on, they cost too much! My friend on the phone used Alice Sebold as an example, and we recalled how when "The Lovely Bones" was released, we were able to watch that book absolutely explode onto the scene, and the author emerge from anonymity to super-stardom. </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>I was reflecting on what a cool thing that is to see. At least, to someone like me! As a book seller, we would go from being completely unaware of an author, literally having zero books on the shelf by that person ... to five days later being in full combat mode, trying to get the most copies the fastest and keep 'em coming! It really happened that fast. One Monday I would go to work, and I'd get a few phone calls inquiring about a certain title... I'd order it or give other information for the callers... Then throughout the day, I'd hear my co-workers ordering it, maybe I'd see a review in a daily newspaper, etc. Throughout that week, calls and inquiries just reached fever pitch ... oftentimes one out of every two customers who entered the store wanted to know about this book. By the weekend, I would receive notifications from our warehouses announcing dates and quantities when I could expect shipments of the title. Usually over that weekend I'd see more reviews or a friend would mention reading the book, I'd see that the author would be appearing on this or that tv show ... and voila! By the next Monday, everyone knew the book, its author, and we couldn't keep it in stock. With "The Lovely Bones" and "The DaVinci Code" and others like it ... We'd literally stack them everywhere- behind the cash tills, behind the information desk, behind themselves on the shelf, up in the rafters, everywhere! Because customers were always asking, and then you could simply grab one for them from ... wherever! As a manager, it was astonishing at first to realize that even with books stacked to the ceiling quite literally, every weekend would see us turning people away until the next shipment. Crazy.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Oh, and although the aforementioned titles, along with several other Best-Sellers of the past decade, were driving insane sales, nothing in my career ever, ever approached the hysterical and non-stop demand for the Harry Potter books. I worked in the book biz when the last book came out in hardcover ... We had the local POLICE controlling the crowds ... who incidentally camped outside our doors all night to be first in line. That was the front lines baby! </b></span>Tatyanna (and Dorian too)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07646542379329722446noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5910150655433987825.post-31494166477882632882010-07-11T21:44:00.000-05:002010-07-11T21:44:10.563-05:00Skip This One if Open Wounds Gross You Out...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I do believe the blog is back up and running! Haha, if it is, then you're looking at my robots-and-friendly-aliens background, right? Probably won't keep that background forever, but it made me smile and felt sort of fun and whimsical...</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Ugh, what a week! I feel like the 4th of July, and that whole weekend was FOREVER ago! I started it off with great news about my doctor's visit and all of the happy times I was (& still am, don't worry) expecting to follow ... but it seems I had some resting and waiting to do before diving into all those things I wanted to do when my headaches got better. </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>And my headaches ARE better!!!! OH HAPPY DAY!!! GLORIOUS, SUNSHINEY DAY!!!! For the past week, I have been nearly headache-free! The couple of times I had the beginnings of a migraine, I took the lowest dose of medication possible, and it went away for good. Most of the week, I didn't even need medicine. Already! The new treatments seem to be working already! </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>However, I got this stupid infection somehow called Oral Thrush. It's all been so gross, I won't even go into detail. If you know what it is, well, then you KNOW. So I got medication for that, and it cleared up within days, ok, no problem, right? YES, problem... because I am prone to canker sores, which are painful when you have like one of them at a time. Weeeelll, this week I learned about something called a Complex Canker Sore attack. Yes, it happens just like it sounds: attack of the canker sores. A LOT of them. Painful. At all different stages of coming and going. For days and days! At its worst, I was in so much pain that even drinking to stay hydrated was almost too difficult. All I ate was fudgesicles and a few milkshakes. Swollen glands. Extreme fatigue! I was getting scared! I mean, I have always been one to get a mean ol' canker when I've been under stress or not getting enough sleep or something like that. In fact, right after my LAST visit to the doctor, I got one. It was stressful, just like going into this one was. But for whatever reason, this time the gates of mouth hell just opened up... </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Who knew that a stupid canker sore, usually no more than an annoyance, a sensitivity for a day or two, could render one unable to properly hydrate oneself?! Aching with swollen glands? Unable to do everyday activities because of the physical exhaustion/fatigue?! Tomorrow, I'm s'posed to see the dentist unless I wake up completely healed or something. I've got to remember to ask him whether this is, like, the absolute WORST case he's ever seen or something... that is, if he doesn't just fall out with shock from it all before I can ask. That would pretty much confirm it.</b></span>Tatyanna (and Dorian too)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07646542379329722446noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5910150655433987825.post-18348430006556202012010-07-07T12:04:00.004-05:002010-07-07T16:56:27.892-05:00TECH ISSUES!!UPDATE @4:55 p.m. CST.... It's a frackin' nightmare! OHHH the humanity! I can't tinker with it anymore tonight ... at least not until I have had a) MINIMUM one more cup of coffee AND b)ice cream in some form, preferably shake form. Bear with me please! xo<br />
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UPDATE @3:10 p.m. CST ... I grabbed a new template, took the one named "Awesome, Inc." (fitting, yeah baby!), and made sure the colors worked (i.e. didn't blind anyone and weren't invisible) ... I THINK we have a winner! I fiddled with the width of different parts just to make sure. The right margins, which hold my beloved "gadgets" will be dealt with next, as they now have the sickness. STILL don't understand why Blogger would publish this mess, with words bleedin' out past the SET margins, but what do I know? If this works, I'll keep it until I learn a little more! I want to WRITE, not do graphic design dammit! :*)<br />
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Yes, I see that the blog is bleeeeeeding<br />
into the right column... a mystery, as the body<br />
column has "set" borders and width ... I am<br />
trying to get Blogger expert help with<br />
this... but if any other users have any ideas,<br />
by all means, chime in!!!Tatyanna (and Dorian too)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07646542379329722446noreply@blogger.com2