<BODY><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d3769027\x26blogName\x3dtequila+mockingbird\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dTAN\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttp://tequilamockingbird.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://tequilamockingbird.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d779643416214293777', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>

[about the author]

i actually like speaking in front of large crowds. freakish, eh?

i work crossword puzzles in ink.

i am the american nigella lawson. or maybe the american eddie izzard. can't decide, really.

i would be a really good mom, but i'm cool with being a really good aunt.

i am sometimes more perceptive than i would like to be.

i am fiercely loyal. sometimes, stupidly so.

i never play dumb. never.

i am way too hard on myself.

i am a change agent.

i sometimes cross that fine line between assertive and aggressive.

i am not afraid to tell people that i love them.

i am militantly pro-choice.

i am pro-adoption.

i know a little bit about alot of things.

i typically enjoy the company of men more than women.

i am capable of being really mean and nasty, but i fight it. hard.

i am a lifelong cubs fan. do not laugh.

i have been known to hold a grudge.

i have hips.

i am not my sister.

i am lousy at forgiving myself.

i am an indoor kind of gal.

i am a bargain shopper. to the point of obsession.

i am 32 flavors. and then some.

 
[the ones people ask about]
Rittenhouse Review
Investment Banking Monkey
OOPS
Cheap Ticket News
iPhone News
Hotels and Travel News
Latest on Retirement Planning
Consumer News and Reviews
 

[in case you were wondering]

[the blogger behind the curtain]

[100 things about me]



[the old stuff]

09.02
10.02
11.02
12.02
01.03
02.03
03.03
04.03
05.03
06.03
07.03
08.03
09.03
10.03
11.03
12.03
01.04
02.04
03.04
04.04
05.04
06.04
07.04
08.04
09.04
10.04
11.04
12.04
01.05
02.05
03.05
04.05
05.05
06.05
07.05
08.05
10.05
11.05
12.05
04.07
05.07

<< current


[all content copyright 2007 by tequila mockingbird. seriously.]


 
9.30.2002  

the one about the cop and the donut
by popular request (okay, it was one person), here is the aforementioned story about the cop and the donut.

i swear that it's all true. not even embellished a little bit. pinky-swear.

a couple of weeks ago, i ran out to get a sandwich from the great little shop across the street from my office. it was a rather gross, humid day, and i was swamped with work. i would have rather ordered in, but, by the time i had that realization i was already so hungry that my stomach had begun to eye my kidney in such a way that caused me concern.

i'm standing there waiting for my sandwich (grilled ham and lorraine swiss) and this really attractive police officer starts chatting me up. and i'm thinking: who, me? but, i'm having a very bad hair day, and there are lots of other really attractive chicks in here (look, i have self-esteem issues, this is what we do when cute guys start to chat us up)! i'm also thinking: what is up with me and the cops??!! am i like a magnet or something? (my ex-husband is a cop, for those of you just tuning in). it's all going just fine, i guess, when he says, "oh, man, look at that -- donuts!" and we both laugh and i realize he's trying to engage me in witty banter, so i say, "oh, come on, you can do better than that...that's a cliché!"

and then there's an awkward pause, and the terribly attractive officer has an odd look on his face, and he starts to turn a bit red, and he says, "oh...what, is that some kind of a french donut or something? it just looked like a regular donut to me. anyway, that's just a stereotype about cops and donuts. i was just making a joke when i said that about being excited because they have donuts."

so, i pretend that they just called my number and i grab the sandwich that has just come up (tuna with avocado and tomatoes as it turns out...so not my grilled ham and lorraine swiss) and i book it, dano. 'cause who wants to piss off a cop by laughing at him?

not i, said the duck.

cliché...french donut...explaining to me that it's a stereotype, all condescending-like. hee.
| [tell me about it] | [link to this entry]

9.29.2002  

oh yeah...
i was so distracted by my armpit travails that i forgot to mention my blog-spiffing activities. earlier this week, the only person i had shared my blog with asked if he could pass along the link to some other folks. i have to admit that i hadn't really considered the possiblity that: 1. anyone else would read this, or 2. anyone else would want to read this. so, after about 45 seconds of hard deliberation, i told him, "uh...sure."

immediately, i panic. i start doubting my blog. it's like being invited to the best party ever, and then immediately realizing you have nothing to wear, and that you're not a sparkling conversationalist. i suddenly feel i should edit my title tag: "but my blog has a nice personality!" so, in an effort to make my blog fit in a bit (my poor beta blog -- longing to be an alpha), i polished things up a bit, reorg'd a tad, and added some links so that visitors can quickly access other blogs after they decide they don't like my blog "that way." there are alot of great blogs out there...google your brains out, people.

so, although i won't be hemming and hawing or self-editing, i would guess that, in future posts, there might be a little less of the morose introspection, and a little more of the wry observation.

(silence)

and less information about my armpits.

(thunderous applause)

oh, fine.

anyway, that's that. just thought i'd explain the facelift, or the reorg, or, the whatever. and to say: the alias premiere is only four short hours away. and it had better not suck, or i'll be sorely put out. of course, lena olin is on board for this season. think there will be a revisit of her bowler ensemble from the unbearable lightness of being? oh, wait...it'd be victor garber instead of daniel day-lewis...hmmm...well, she was just incredibly hot in that bowler with that mirror and that chair and...and, that's all i'm sayin'.

i'm feeling a very special episode for sweeps.
| [tell me about it] | [link to this entry]

 

the pits
so, this is random.

i have some sort of armpit disease.

no kidding.

let's face it, armpits are pretty much ignored. i mean, sure i shave 'em. and, of course i slather them with my trusty deodorant/anti-perspirant. but, generally speaking, we, as a society, don't really do much with the armpit. and now. well, now i'm paying the price for society's mistake.

it would seem that my pits are mad as hell, and they're not going to take it anymore.

currently, my pits are swollen, and appear to be abraded. they are, frankly, icky. i have no idea what brought this on. i haven't made any sort of life change like suddenly changed my deodorant...i mean, you find something that works for you and you stick with it. oh, wait..."stick" with it...deodorant...hoo, that was a good one.

ahem.

anyway, it couldn't be that i somehow nicked a pit while shaving and it became horribly infected or otherwise disgusting...it's both pits. i mean, what are the chances that i nicked both pits?

for those of you who have not been totally grossed out and are still reading, that was a rhetorical question.

am i actually writing this stuff down in a place where others can read about it?! god bless the internet.

anyway, it hurt too much this morning to put on my trusty deodorant/anti-perspirant. so, now this is serious. if we were simply talking about me being in physical pain i could just ignore that like i so often do...but, no...this is something bigger than that: now, there is a remote chance i could become stinky and gross as a result of my pit uprising. this must come to a screeching halt.

but my current quandry is this: who does one see for such a problem? certainly there are no pit specialists. are there? well, if there are, screw the internet and god bless the pit specialists. 'cause who wants that job?

did i mention they itch, too? yeah, well they itch. i'm oh-so-tempted to just google myself into a frenzy by looking for any info on potential pit problems on the web. but, i'm sure that somewhere i'd get a hit for some obscure, and totally incurable, form of cancer. symptoms: itchy, swollen armpits. prognosis: terminal. i am of the opinion that, no matter what is wrong with you, if you google your symptoms, you'll find at least one website that will tell you that you're going to die from what ails you. so, no googling for now.

dammitalltohell...there aren't even any good home remedies for pit problems.

looks like i'll be stayin' in today.
| [tell me about it] | [link to this entry]

9.28.2002  

the blogger behind the curtain



where to start? what is there to tell? what do you want to know?

i'm just your average thirty-something gal who started a blog just like bazillions of other average thirty-something gals [and guys for that matter]. it started out as a way to keep in touch with a long-distance friend without clogging up our inboxes. then, we started encouraging each other to "write," instead of just correspond. then, it seemed like a smart thing to do to add comments so we could tell each other what we thought of each other's writing without having to send an email. because sending an email flew in the face of the whole "not clogging up our inboxes."

then, lo and behold [well, more lo than behold, really] there came a comment from someone who was not my friend. and it hit me: holy crap, this interweb thing is, like, available to the public!

so, from that day forward, things changed a little bit. i started out trying to protect people in my "real" life by using only their initials. and, i tried to protect myself by remaining on a first-name-only basis with the nice folks on the world wide web. this seemed like a good idea given that everything i was writing -- and continue to write even now -- is true. i mean, spilling the embarrassing moments of my own life was one thing...but i didn't want to embarrass my friends and family without their permission. and getting their permission would entail telling them about this site. and i wasn't quite ready to do that.

but, now it's all out in the open.

mostly.

anyway, after a while, things started happening. cool things. word seemed to be spreading about my little corner of the internet, and, much to my pleasant surprise, people started reading. quite a lot of people, actually. and, mostly, they seemed to enjoy reading what i had to say.

one day, i had an email from a reporter at the lexington herald-leader who was writing a story about blogs. she was nice enough to include some rather navel-gazing comments from me, and the secret was then out: my name. my full name. so, for the record, that's julia montgomery.

after that came a couple of diarist awards, which was very exciting. and then a 2004 bloggie award for the "best kept secret blog," which, i believe, translates to the equivalent of when tv guide does a cover story every year about "the best show you're not watching." or maybe it's entertainment weekly. i can't remember. anyway, that's me.

shortly thereafter, i was blown away by an offer to have some of my writing included in an upcoming anthology titled the best writing on the web. we're still working on that, but as soon as there's a publish date set, i'll be sure to let you know. trust me. you won't be able to shut me up.

i also had an opportunity to tell some of my stories to a live audience when i was asked to be a featured storyteller at fray day dc this year. and, while writing these stories and getting comments is great, i have to tell you that it was a complete rush to be able to see people's faces as they reacted to hearing the stories live. amazing stuff.

if you're new here, i would suggest checking out the list of posts along the left side of the screen over there...i guess those are the "greatest hits," for lack of any better way to say it. some are funny. some aren't. but they're probably a pretty good indicator of whether or not you're going to like the stories you find here. i hope you do, but let's face it...you can't please all of the people. or my grandmother.

so, that's how this whole thing came to be. you're caught up. the latest and greatest. all the news that's fit to print...err...blog. anyway, i would be remiss if i didn't say that i am humbled and thrilled and amazed and flattered that people come here and read what i write. it's just more than i ever imagined.

except, of course, for the part where i'm not getting paid.

so, thanks for stopping by. make yourself at home. drop an email. have a snack. enjoy.



what, you think there's still more to know? well...feel free to check out my 100 things about me list.
| [tell me about it] | [link to this entry]

9.27.2002  

alpha beta gamma
wasn't sure what to write about today. have lots of things swirling around. a very interesting bit on fidelity and forgiveness is on the horizon, and coulda been a contenda today. but, instead, i'm going to talk a bit about a recent article i read. you can check it out here.

when things hit the proverbial fan, e cited the fact that she and i are both alpha females as the reason we couldn't be friends. she then went on to state that, although we are both alphas, we have fundamentally different approaches: i tend to be "one of the guys" whereas she tends to take the "more traditional girly" approach. i remember that, at the time, i bristled. as a matter of fact, i was hurt and pissed while i bristled. but, i couldn't figure out why. all my life, i have thought that i was, indeed, an alpha female. i have a strong personality that is frequently dominant in group settings. i tend to find a way to take charge of things, if that's what i want to do. i've always felt that i'm independent and strong, and...well, and alpha. i never thought of it as a bad thing.

until that email.

for some reason, when she said i was an alpha, i felt like it was an insult. or that it was a slap in the face. of course, i think it was supposed to feel that way. maybe it was being qualified as a non-traditional alpha that got me. or that i'm "one of the guys" comment somehow made me feel less of a woman. but those explanations for my feelings seemed "off" to me -- i mean, i have always considered myself to be a bit on the "one of the guys" side, and, again, have always thought of that as a strength, not a weakness.

so, what the hell was it that stung so much about her dismissal?

well, after reading the article in the post, i think i get it now.

i'm a gamma girl. not an alpha at all, really. and e...well she's an alpha to the core. and we gammas don't care so much for the alpha girls and their catty ways.

when i started junior high i was really nervous. i grew up on the "wrong" side of the river in my hometown -- we were pretty much a paycheck-to-paycheck kind of family. but, within a few days of starting junior high, i had made the most wonderful new friend. we were thick as thieves, and, holy cow -- she was from the "right" side of the river! dianne was beautiful and popular and stylish...and she picked me to be her best friend.

then came cheerleading try-outs.

i didn't try out -- wasn't really interested. but dianne did, and my junior high world changed overnight. the day after try-outs, the new queens were crowned. and dianne stopped speaking to me. cold turkey. like someone flipped a switch. i waited for her in our usual meeting spots, but she never showed up. it took me a couple of days, but i got the picture.

soon, dianne and her other cheerleading friends were making catty comments about me, as though i couldn't hear them. they were good, too; quick to figure out my most vulnerable spots. my non-nike shoes were a source of much amusement in gym class. i didn't have designer jeans, and, because i was two years younger than all of my classmates, i wasn't allowed to wear make-up yet.

i got a swift and brutal introduction to the alpha girls.

i pined away for the rest of my junior high years, looking longingly at dianne and the other alphas from the outside. i would have done anything to be one of them. i spent the remained of my junior high years as a beta, hoping against hope that, somehow, one day, i'd be one of the "beautiful" girls.

it never happened.

by the time i entered high school, my inner gamma had started to emerge. and that gamma girl grew stronger during my high school years; flourished there, really. class officer, student body officer, yearbook editor, newspaper editor....and, although i still carried the wounds of dianne's dismissal, something inside me changed: i began to see the alpha girls more clearly. certainly my initial judgments of them were colored in part by the pain they had so gleefully inflicted upon me over the years. but, i honestly believe that i came to see them from an objective point of view. they left me alone in high school -- i was no longer the easy target i had once been. there were smaller, weaker fish in the barrel. so i watched as they chose their new targets carefully, and decimated them with joy.

and i saw them then.

i saw how empty they were, how vicious, how vapid, how sad. and i hated them. to me, they came to represent everything i loathe about the stereotypes too often applied to -- and too often true of -- women: catty...shallow...backstabbers...climbers...teases. they used their carefully cultivated appearances to distract from their lack of substance. they manipulated with their mascaraed lashes. they made it harder for women who wanted to be something more. some days they made it impossible.

i think that now i see things more clearly between e and me. she's right: it never would have worked. we truly are not cut out to be friends. but, i like to think that it's not because we're two alphas. but, rather, that i'm a gamma who can't stand what alphas represent. even now, as an adult, i loathe women who manipulate men through their calculated flirtations. women who are by no means stupid, but who act that way to get what they want. women who tear down other women as though it were a sport. women who are threatened by other women and choose to destroy them through gossip instead of challenging themselves to become better opponents on a level playing field. i hate those women.

i am not without fault in the e saga. i think that i lapsed into my old beta self for a bit. i saw the attention she got, and i wanted to believe her assertions that we were thick as thieves. and so i did believe, despite the warning signs. i wanted to sit at the table with the cool kids at lunch. hey, i may be a gamma, but i'm still human. i worshipped at her alpha altar, willing to go along in exchange for the privilege of being in the circle. but, when my gamma self came to her senses and spoke up, things came crashing down.

it was inevitable.
| [tell me about it] | [link to this entry]

9.25.2002  

food for thought
i've been thinking alot about food today. not that that fact makes today much different from any other day, but today not only will i think about it -- i shall write about it!

so...i love food. alot. pretty much all food. i mean, like everyone, i guess i have my food hang-ups. although i've gotten over a couple of them very recently. thanks to a mix-up at the sandwich shop across the street from my office (i was trying to quickly get away from a very unfortunate incident in which a not-so-bright law enforcement officer picked the worst gal in the shop to hit on), i am now okay with eating raw tomatoes and avocado. the universe works in mysterious ways. since the reconciliation between me and the avocado, i've even gone so far as to have guacamole in my house. sometimes the world is filled with so much beauty i can hardly stand it. well, beauty and guacamole.

so...food. it's a big deal to me. huge, really. i love to eat food. i love to cook food. i love to share food. i find comfort in food, and alot of my most cherished memories are inextricably linked to food. thanksgiving is a perfect example. the bonding that took place in my grandmother's kitchen the night before thanksgiving was an important part of my life. typically, my gran, my mother, and my favorite aunt would spend the entire evening -- until after midnight -- in the kitchen. laughing, talking, and preparing the thanksgiving meal.

in my gran's kitchen, the countertop had an unusual feature. the front corner of her kitchen was a window -- the corner itself was a window. and, if this makes any sense, the kitchen sink was the third side of a triangle, so while my gran did dishes, she could look out the window and watch the world go by. anyway, there was counterspace behind the sink...i'm not explaining this well. so, when i was young, i'd climb up onto the counter, and sit on the countertop behind the sink (so the corner-window was behind me) and watch the goings-on into the night. i watched my gran roll out piecrusts that no one in our family has ever been able to duplicate. i think the secret is the fact that she used crisco, and no one of later generations wants to use shortening. i watched as they tore bread into a huge bowl and eventually turned it into dressing that, despite the lack of a real recipe with actual measurements, always managed to taste amazing in the very same way year after year after year.

i also learned alot about love and family and affection in that kitchen. i remember how it smelled, and how the windows steamed up as the nighttime air grew colder and the old gas oven grew warmer. i remember the sound of my gran's old percolator on the stove, and the laughter of my mom and my aunt as they ganged up to make fun of their mom. those times, those memories, are what i think of when i hear the word "family." i miss those nights.

food also became a way for me to connect with my stereotypically absent father. sure, my father was around, but he wasn't really there. i remember never feeling as though he had an interest in me. how hurtful it felt that he seemed so unimpressed with me. i remember when my standardized test scores came back. i was sure my scores, and the suggestion that i might be some sort of freakish savant/prodigy would garner some reaction from my father. but none came. as the years passed, i became increasingly convinced that, somehow, i just wasn't good enough for my father to notice me. that i wasn't impressive enough, or...something enough.

these days, it is food that has facilitated the healing of old wounds between dad and me. when i cook for my family, it is always my father who is loudest with praise, who never fails to go back for seconds. am i a good cook? yes. but, even when the dish isn't up to restaurant fare, my father shoos away my doubts and raves. and, of course, many of the dishes i prepare i choose specifically with my father in mind. i'm still that young girl trying to please him and win his approval. and, i think it is an unspoken understanding between us. i think he sees me reaching out, and has, in turn reached out himself in apology to me, showering me now with all the praise he never gave me then.

there are days when i wish i didn't love food so much. usually, it's around the time i have to put on a swimsuit for the first time each season. but, nothing lifts the spirits like a big steaming bowl of real mashed potatoes, and, unfortunately, i'm a gal who needs her spirits lifted often enough to make an undeniable impact on my ass. i was thinking today about turning over yet another new leaf. making a concerted effort to visit the gym regularly; shave at least one size off my lower half; actually cultivate definition in my arms. suddenly, i felt sad. i realized that i do want those things...but i want my mashed potatoes, too.

oh, i could go on for days. pasta carbonara. a rare steak. pad kee mao. ripe pears. but i guess i'll just say that life is too short, in my estimation, to give up the things you love. so, while i have committed to myself this september day to tackle my body with the same zest and enthusiasm i have for mashed potatoes...i'm not giving up the potatoes, either.
| [tell me about it] | [link to this entry]

9.24.2002  

no, seriously...blog me with a wet noodle
man, i've got to get better about this whole blog thing.

or do i?

my blog is not a daily column in a widely-circulated newspaper. hell, at this rate, my blog is not even a weekly column in a free "alternative" publication. so, what is my blog and what is my obligation to it?

my blog is my refuge; i shall not want.

ha. a little lapsed-catholic humor there. but just as a diversion, really.

see, i think i don't want to talk about my blog.

i'm "supposed" to come here and spill it. or wax poetic. or make insightful commentary on the world around me. or indulge in some sort of written-word-primal-scream therapy. or relate amusing anecdotes involving the quirky cast of my life. i'm feeling some (self-induced, i'm sure, because that's who i am) sort of pressure to:

1. make it daily (at least)
2. make it entertaining/insightful/depthful(ha)/something

when, truth be told, today i just want to talk about the fact that i'm cramping like a mutha, and i'd kill for some dreamery banana split ice cream. and some lindt truffles, but really just the milk chocolate ones, because the dark chocolate ones are a little too. and some snyder's potato chips -- that's snyder's of berlin, not snyder's of hanover for god's sake.

[sound of crickets in the distance]

see? this is what i'm saying.

also, i'm broke. flat-busted broke. because i'm trying to fill up some empty hole inside of me with retail therapy. i got some nice new eyeshadows, though. i mean, how can you not buy eyeshadows named holly golightly and barefoot contessa?! and, uh, some more lipglosses. ahem.

oh, and three new pencil skirts, 'cause that's the look i'm trying to work for fall. although with hips like these, you gotta wonder if the pencil skirt look is really gonna be a thumbs-up moment. sort of a tailored bombshell thing, perhaps? well, that's probably a bit optimistic, but i think you (?) probably know what i mean. i even got some fishnets to wear with the oh-so tailored pencil skirt, the very proper pumps and the crisply ironed shirt. not the hooker kind of fishnets with the small criss-crosses, the couture hooker ones, with the really widely spaced criss-crosses. black ones and nude ones!

[more crickets]

anyway, i'm hoping that it all helps to lift my spirits a bit. things at home are rough right now, and i don't have a really strong circle of friends in this neck of the woods to lean on. makes it tough. so, you know, when the going gets tough, i go shopping. to within an nth of my zero balance, evidently. hey, at least i don't do credit cards.

oh, yeah, and i really really really need a haircut and a retouch on my hair color. and that's a big fat cha-ching, ladies and gentlemen. why, oh why, oh why did i ever step foot on the path to hair color touch-ups?? *sigh* anyway, i'm also in the age-old quandry of how to gracefully switch hair stylists. see, i had one hair stylist who did a nice job. then, because she costs way more than i wanted to pay, i switched to stylist number two, at a totally different salon. no problem. then, stylist #2 started doing things i didn't love, and i especially didn't like the color i was getting. so, i decided to go back to stylist #1. which was fine. actually, it was really good. but then: trouble. stylist #1 was unavailable, and i had to get my haircut to go to a wedding. so, i took an appointment with another stylist. and, holy guacamole -- it was a match made in heaven. my hair never looked so yes. but, now what? see, stylists 1 & 3 are in the same salon. only two stations from each other. how am i supposed to manage that?! oh, sweet jose eber, help me!

i think i'd like to write more, but i don't know what it would be, so i'm stopping for now. and, although i'm not pressuring myself (ha), i do plan to write more tomorrow.
| [tell me about it] | [link to this entry]

9.16.2002  

blog me with a wet noodle
so, i didn't update my blog this weekend. i was going to. and then i didn't. i think that's a theme in my life:
"i was going to. and then i didn't."

stay married for the rest of my life
finish school
go to the gym
stand up for myself
call my friend
take out the trash
run the vacuum
dust
(okay, so pretty much any household chore can be on my list)

i hate that about myself. i hate it that i lack follow-through. if i was on dr. phil's first episode of his all-by-myself-but-not-really-since-oprah-is-producing-this-and-appears-to-have-given-me-her-set-from-last-season television show, he would chew my ass hard. and he'd be right to do so. it's one thing to have unrealized goals or unfinished tasks because you are unable to accomplish them. it's a whole other ball of wax to have unfinished bidness because you're too lazy to finish it. that's how my ass got to be this big. as much as i love clothes and stuff, you'd think that alone would have jarred me into ac-shon. but, no. still, i sloth.

i hate the idea of waking up one day to find that i lazed through my life. that there were things i could have changed, but didn't, and now there is no time. ooo...i hate regret! i try really hard to live my life so i can look back with no regret, and i generally do a pretty good job of that. so, again, you'd think the black cloud of potential regret would jar me. but, no.

speaking of jar...

i need a wake-up call about my fantasies regarding real life v. reel life. i watched notting hill last night (for the bazillionth time) and found myself all doe-eyed about dreamy hugh grant and witty repartee. although i'm over the whole julia roberts thing. plus, her character in that movie was a total bitch. anyway, she just seems to be subtle variations of the same character in every movie, and if you look at her for too long she starts to look funny, so i'm over it. not that i was ever under it. anyhoo...hugh grant is so dreamy and funny, even without a scriptwriter (see his golden globe acceptance speech from a few years back...he's damn funny all by himself). and, he's all romantic-like...okay, maybe that is a script device, what with the whole unfortunate prostitute incident. don't i have enough of that to contend with already?! dammitalltohell.

anyway, so i think part of my unhappiness stems from an unhealthy notion that real people are like movie people. i mean, i'm not delusional, but i guess i just thought that people really were witty. or made gestures. or...or other movie-type stuff. but, i think they don't so much. i mourn the loss of my illusions, and i mourn the fact that they were illusions, and i mourn the years i spent believing they weren't. blue monday, indeed.

i have thoughts today on the d and e saga, but those will have to wait until the lunch hour. i'm enjoying the leftovers of a creamy, comforting risotto today, and so i'll be close at hand to blog my thoughts.

until then....
| [tell me about it] | [link to this entry]

9.13.2002  

on a lighter note...
so, i got a pretty cool gig going right now. a woman i work with seems to think i'm the creative type, and she's asked me to create her wedding invitations. actually, her save the date cards, her invitations, her reception cards, her thank you cards...you get the picture. a few problems, though:
1. zero guidance. none, nada, zero, zip. not even so much as, "hey, i'd prefer a really traditional feel." nothing. i hate that! when i asked for some information, she said, "oh, just put some things together and we'll take it from there. whatever you think." whatever i think?! lady, i'm a bit of nut. not exactly your traditional-matrimony kinda gal. whatever i think?!? well...okay then.

2. self-doubt. of course! i love typography, and i love desktop publishing, and i love weddings (go figure), but, of course -- i'm just sure this is more than i can handle. *sigh*

3. moola. how much am i supposed to charge for something like this?? should i ask her just to pay for supplies and donate my time, looking at it as a learning experience? or, do i go ahead and choose some random, arbitrary number?

dammit, jim, this is supposed to be fun!

so, i was thinking last night...what if i'm really like e? what if i'm a manipulator, too? i mean, i think i have those tendencies. so, what if this is all about two sociopaths (or, alpha females if you'd prefer) locking horns, and i'm just determined to win? i mean, am i really that hurt by d's willingness to believe her lies? or am i more upset that i'm losing here, being beaten at what might just be my own game? ouch...self-examination hurts sometimes.

so, what the end game here? am i hoping that d suddenly leaps to his feet and says, "e, you're a liar and a manipulator, and i must divorce you because of the way you have treated my friends"?!?!? 'cause that's not gonna happen. plus, that would actually hurt d, so i'm not sure how much joy i'd get from that. but, right now, it seems that the situation is that d is just saying, "well, you know, yeah, it's pretty clear that e lied about you, and manipulated alot of my friends, but, you know...that's just the way she is. and, you know, she's my wife. so, uh...you know, that's just the way she is."

what am i supposed to do with that?! and again, what if it's not that the statement bothers me so much as it is that i'm losing the game. really...it's all too dramatic to bear.

okay, off to download fonts and ponder my sociopathic tendencies....
| [tell me about it] | [link to this entry]

9.12.2002  

dark...darker...darko
so, in a valiant effort to escape the never-ending 9/11 programming, i opted for a think piece. a tiny little movie that i meant to see in the theater, but just never caught -- donnie darko. it stars jake gyllenhaal, who i love for his role in rocket boys. it's an odd thing about west virginians...anyone involved in anything remotely related to west virginia has our fierce loyalty, as though they were somehow one of us just by their participation. actually, it's only those people who participate in positive projects about west virginia. like that one time when marion ross played a hick from west virginia on the love boat and the then-secretary of state wrote a scathing letter to her. mrs. c didn't get any love from the mountaineers on that one, my friend.

i feel i may have digressed.

anyway, donnie darko. i think this is a love-it/hate-it kinda movie. i loved it. although i do not claim that it is without huge, gaping flaws (the inexplicable throwaway roles of drew barrymore and noah wyle, the lack of interpersonal relationship development to give certain events a more believable feel, the amazingly baffling plot that still has me scratching my head...although i don't actually think that's a flaw), it certainly was an ambitious piece of work. and that's a big deal to me. i'm quick to give credit to someone who is reaching for something new and exciting, even if their capabilities aren't up to the reach. the writer-director is only 26...i'm anxious to see what he does next. and, as an aside, gyllenhaal's performance was wonderful and that six-foot tall "rabbit" was way scarier than anything from lord of the rings. i would definitely recommend this to some people (mike), but definitely not to others (my sister).

so, i made it through 9/11 relatively unscathed. i'll admit that i'm still quick to cry when i see the images, or hear the stories of survivors. and i'll never forget that day here in dc. but, while i don't forget, i do wonder...what now? where do we go from here? what did we learn? what lasting change will come of this? will we really seek out war in response? why didn't i invest in red, white and blue ribbon?

i struggle with this talk of war with iraq. our government parades its evidence in support of attacking iraq in front of us daily: they have "weapons of mass destruction." they have biological weapons capabilities. they're mean, and that one especially mean guy embarrassed my dad and made him lose to that guy from arkansas.

but, here's the thing: the united states has weapons of mass destruction. and, just last week, there was a news story about a security breach at a biological weapons facility in one of those square states out west somewhere. so, here's my question: how come we're allowed to have all this stuff, but we think that no one else should have it? how can we talk about going to war with a country because they have the same toys we do, and we don't like that? something seems fundamentally wrong with that logic. who died and left us to be the boss of all the other countries?! who do we think we are? and there are still americans who don't understand why the rest of the world doesn't love us. don't misunderstand -- our actions around the world don't justify what happened on 9/11. but, in my opinion, our actions around the world made it an inevitability.
| [tell me about it] | [link to this entry]

9.11.2002  

9.11
"in those days, we finally chose to walk like giants and hold the world in arms grown strong with love, and there may be many things we forget in the days to come, but this will not be one of them." --- brian andreas
| [tell me about it] | [link to this entry]

9.10.2002  

my b-movie doesn't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world
feeling a bit overwhelmed today. decided to call off work and just regroup. tough to regroup when the today show is a non-stop 9/11 remembrance show. what are they going to do tomorrow?? i know at some point i'm going to need to jump in and start airing out the b-movie plot. after all, i came to this as an outlet for the stress that the personal drama in my life is causing. but, right now, flooded with the all-too-real drama of 9/11, my petty b-movie personal soap opera seems pretty insignificant. maybe i'll just get out and enjoy the beautiful day instead. there's plenty of time for airing later, right?
| [tell me about it] | [link to this entry]

9.09.2002  

well, you gotta start some place
i have no idea what i'll be posting here. i only know that i've had lots of thoughts about lots of things lately, and am in dire need of an outlet. sure, journaling is great...but i'm getting hand cramps.
it just seems that my life is filled with loads of drama these days. if i wrote it up as non-fiction, it'd never sell. too unbelievable. too b-movie. so, this seems like the perfect place to share it -- "share" assuming someone else stumbles onto it and reads it.
| [tell me about it] | [link to this entry]