January 21, 2007 at 6:52 pm (Places)
It’s snowing! It’s snowing! It’s snowing!
All the midwesterners and northerners I know are probably laughing that this wispy, wet stuff is considered “snow”. Whatever. I’m a DC girl and if this is all we get, I’ll take it.
First snow! (1)
Originally uploaded by loosegreentea
January 13, 2007 at 6:44 pm (Sounds)
The BF bought the new NaS, Hip Hop is Dead. Oh. My. God. I’m not a huge fan of hip-hop, but I do love the Roots, and Wu-Tang, and Snoop. Besides my much-discussed punk background, my mother the omni-aur also grew from the roots of Atlantic Records, James Brown and Motown.
So what does NaS do? He mixes Iron Butterfly’s “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” on the title track. No shit. Snoop, Kelis, Kanye and will.i.am are all on it. He even splices in some James Brown. Even the Pitchfork review is favorable!
To quote a dear friend, “Hallelujah, motherfucker.”
January 13, 2007 at 4:39 pm (MFA, Teaching, Writing)
Warning: Somewhat sappy inspirationalism ahead. I needed to remind myself of why I’m going to be focused today and for the rest of the term.
What day?
The day I decide to get everything done. Somehow. With the BF visiting family and most of my friends out of town for the holiday, I’m getting my syllabus done, finishing an essay to submit for a contest (it’s almost done), writing a reference letter for a student, and then–in true triage fashion–once all of that is done, work on my short story/possible novel-in-progress.
I’m being ambitious, but it’s necessary. My “resolutions” this year involve being more goal-oriented. I think it’s assumed that most people have a basic sense of “wanting” something and doing what needs (or they feel needs) to be done to earn or achieve that something. I used to be a “go-getter.” I used to make plans and execute those plans meticulously in order to achieve my goals. I earned accolades, leadership positions, entrance into my first-choice undergraduate college. And then. . . I stopped. Read the rest of this entry »
January 4, 2007 at 1:53 am (Crafty, Food, People)
Crazy Aunt Who Moonlights At Large High-End Chain Clothing Store (CAWMALHECC): Here you go!
Me: Thanks! (Trying not to gag at ugly stupid purse.)
Me three days later: I’d like to return this, although there are no tags and no gift receipt. Is that possible? (Knowing full well it may be a season or two old and I might not get much for it.)
Sales clerk: (Pleasantly.) Sure, no problem. Let me check. (Face drops noticeably.) Um, you got this as a gift? For this Christmas?
Me: Ye-es. . .
Sales clerk: Ummm.
Me: (Paranoid they think I’m trying to cheat them.) If I can’t return it, I do understand. What, is it a season old?
Sales clerk: (Embarassed.) It’s from Fall 2004.
Me: (Pit of stomach falling and feeling great wrath towards the CAWMALHECC.) I’m not surprised.
Sales clerk #2, who leans over from other register: Damn, you got that as a gift?
Me: Mmmhmm.
Sales clerk #1: (Looks mortified.) I’m really sorry, I am.
Sales clerk #2: That is NOT right.
Me: It’s ok. It’s not your fault. Thank you for checking, I do appreciate it.
Walks calmly out of store and starts plotting how to regift an old purse that the CAWMALHECC gave me years ago as a hand me down (not as a “gift”).
Nothing pisses me off more than sheer tackiness. I’d prefer nothing at all. I’m voting for no exchanging of gifts next year…. unless I regift the purse. And only for CAWMALHECC.
December 15, 2006 at 2:11 am (Writing)
I just got a semi-personalized rejection letter from a lit mag, with encouragement to submit again. Yay! That’s a first! I am strangely heartened by this.
December 13, 2006 at 12:20 am (Food)
I think I have food poisoning. Not bad, just yucky. At first I thought it was a stomach bug, but my symptoms (fever and cramps after a really gross early morning) seem to point to food poisoning. Question is, how the hell did I get it? Save your Taco Bell jokes–I haven’t had green onions and I don’t eat at Taco Bell as a general rule. I made a mushroom, garlic, ginger, onion and carrot soup last night that was supposed to be an immune booster, but within four hours I was feeling off. So that could be the culprit, which means I have to throw out my leftover ingredients, which stinks! And, while doing holiday baking, I could perhaps have eaten some raw dough. Maybe. But, I’ve never been sick from that before and it was on Saturday, so I think that’s a little too long in the chronology of food poisoning.
I feel like I’m hungover except without the silly memories of the night before. The UPS delivery man buzzed up nine times–none of which I answered–and I guess the superintendent let him in. When he got to my door, he knocked several times loudly. (BTW, lots of times packages are just delivered quietly at my door–especially during normal business hours.) He said, “What, you don’t answer your phone?”
I said, “Not when I’ve been puking all day,” took the package, and shut the door.
Time for another ginger ale.
December 12, 2006 at 12:07 am (Drama)
If feet freak you out (even just bone things) then do not read. But if you’re strangely fascinated with x-rays or feet or deformities, read on!
My feet are . . . Read the rest of this entry »
December 10, 2006 at 11:42 pm (Crafty, Food, MFA)
Yesterday, I made Chocolate Peppermint Bar Cookies. (And they are yummy and rich and delicious.) Today, I made Spicy Red-Pepper Jelly, and will be making the accompanying Parmesan Black-Pepper Biscotti. If you can’t tell, I am totally enchanted with the current issue of Gourmet magazine. (Although I agree with Slate’s Sara Dickerman questioning the dark covers and spreads.)
My arm and shoulder and wrist are killing me. Any time I type or stir ingredients for too long, pain shoots from my elbow and wrists. I see the doctor about it on Friday. Tomorrow I go see the podiatrist. Later this week I see my shrink to check in.
My friend L. asked if I was going to have my shocks and brakes checked, too.
In other news, I just read Bastard Out of Carolina by Dorothy Allison. My workshop leader, D-Momma (as two of my friends christened her), gives each workshopper a book that speaks to the person’s style. Apparently D-Momma does this every term. I was incredibly touched, and–after reading Bastard–I am even more so.
I wept for half an hour after finishing it. Go read it.
I have papers to grade. I have shit to write. Oy.
December 2, 2006 at 2:53 pm (Writing)
Leaving campus last night, I was feeling pretty crappy. Getting sick, kinda stressed, blah blah blah end of term.
Then I saw this and snapped it with my camera phone, which doesn’t do it justice, but is better than nothing.
Pretty, sparkly things.
November 29, 2006 at 5:59 am (Drama, Writing)
Or, a Semi-Socratic Dialogue on the Nothingness of Sid Vicious and the Everythingness of My Mother
SCENE: Outside the literature building. Damp but warmer-than-normal late November evening. Two characters: Prof and Writer Whom I Respect and Adore (PWWIRA). Me.
PWWIRA: So what do you mean that it irks you that people wanted more “you” in your piece? Most of your pieces have so much you!
ME: Because in the end it all goes back to my mother.
PWWIRA: Wait! How? This is a profile of a musician!
ME: Because my mother used to work in a record store and raised me on the Sex Pistols, the Clash, Elvis Costello, David Bowie. When I was five I looked at her and asked, “Mommy, what’s a Sex Pistol?”
PWWIRA: [Signature gasp and hand clap. Seriously, the man is known for this] Really! Why that is fascinating! So why not write it?
ME: Because it’s always about her.
PWWIRA: Are you saying every piece you write features her?
ME: In some form, yes.
PWWIRA: Even your fiction last semester? The depressed woman who never ate and the daughter who went to the SF market to find joy?
ME: [Inwardly rolling eyes and wishing for a crock of St. Benoit yogurt as he mentions this]. Of course.
PWWIRA: And tonight’s piece–she’s there too.
ME: Yup. Wormed her way in.
PWWIRA: That is truly fascinating. Just go and write it. Write her in until you cannot write her in any more.
ME: That’s a lot of writing. Especially with the onset of carpal tunnel.
PWWIRA: But you must.
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