Friday, November 20, 2009

The first step is to admit that you have a problem.

Is there a 12 step program or even a methadone solution for social networking sites? I can't seem to tear myself away from them. I get Facebook alerts on my Blackberry, there are numerous pop ups on my laptop, not to mention the obligatory email notifications. I can't step away. Thank you Facebook, for letting me know that about one third of my friends are fanatical Twilight fans, several folks are bored at work, a handful are for healthcare reform, and two of them chose to jump out of an airplane.

Why do I feel that I need this information? My life is not complete unless I status update about how I feel about vampires, tweet about what I had for lunch (I didn't today, but have been guilty of it), and blog about how I can't tear myself away from all of it. And don't say "Oh! The irony". There is no irony in it all. It's actually predictable.

There is something anachronistic about the fact that my laptop has become a permanent fixture on a 100 year old farmhouse kitchen table. It just doesn't look right to me. But it feels right, feels current.

It is fairly amazing how the interweaves (thank you once again, T-baby, for that one) have come to rule my life. I pay all my bills online. I check my bank account balance online. My friends and I have the equivalent of party line discussions (remember those?) via Facebook comments and twitter directives. I met my current squeeze online dating. Hell, my boss even sends me work related notes via Facebook. And if I lost all my email, an international incident would ensue. Netflix cue updates? I got it. Hell, I got my entire divorce via email, attachments, and faxes. I never laid eyes upon my attorney.

There seems to be certain level of privacy that we have given up with the World Wide Web. I have seen so many examples of "big internet, small world" that I can't even comment on it.

I am hoping that in the future I will be more private, more mysterious upon the planet of the Innertubes.

I feel so post-modern.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Vampires and other irritating things.

Okay, okay, I get it. The new Twilight movie opens tonight. So what? It's a vampire movie, not really a novel, new idea. Granted, there's a love story in there (I think) and some young, hunky, emo-looking actors that make the hearts of preteen girls go pitter pat, but it's still a vampire movie. And not even Lon Cheney or Bela Lugosi there (Bela Lugosi's dead, in case you didn't know). Hell, not even Tom Cruise or Brad Pitt.

While I guess I can understand why the tween and teen set might be enamored by the series, I really don't understand grown-ass women who are obsessed with it. In fact, there was an article in the AJC recently about how "real life vampires are looking for acceptance". Huh? WTF? Real life vampires? You have got to be kidding me. Vampires are not real. Just because your life is boring and mundane, filled with things like laundry, dirty dishes, and slow moving traffic on 285, you do not get a free pass to be a weirdo. I realize you believe that you are entitled to a more glamorous life, but perhaps you could give the rest of us a break. The banality of your life is probably related to poor choices you've made in your past, such as dropping out of community college, choosing to eat an entire bag of hostess donuts once a week for 10 years, or getting married at the ripe old age of 17. That's not blood lust you feel. That's diabetes. Or high blood pressure. You choose. You are not immortal. In fact, you are probably going to die very soon, either from heart disease or me murdering you for being a grown-ass freak.

So parents, take your kids to the midnight showing of New Moon. Allow your 13 year old daughters to read the entire series. I suppose it's kind of like porn for pre-pubescent girls. But if you are over the age of 15, just stop it. You are obsessed with vampires in love. Teenage vampires at that, and that should be illegal. Kind of like that movie Dirty Dancing. (Thanks to T-baby for bringing that to my attention). In fact, if you keep up with your freaky obsession, I will openly mock you, as I am now. Just next time, it will be to your face.

How we find friends.

Let me just start out with stating the obvious. It is fucking cold here tonight at Grey Gardens. There's not a whole lot I can do about it. I have a radiator style heater next to me here in the farmhouse kitchen and a ceramic one warming up the boudoir. Uber important, since I will be occupying it alone. But I've closed off all the doors to unnecessary rooms, reducing my 2200 sq. ft. bungalow to a kitchen, hallway, bathroom, and bedroom. Such are the travails with a 90 year old home (that I still LOVE, despite my tribulations).

On to my subject title...I've been thinking a lot about a certain friend of mine. Specifically, how our friendship started, how unconventional it was, and ultimately impossible before the days of teh intarwebs and teh emailz. She is such a lovely woman whom I have never met, but I adore her cyber support and communications. I won't disclose her information here, because I have too much respect for her and know how she values her privacy. Suffice it to say, she is awesome.

A little over a year ago, I received a random email from an address I didn't recognize. My gmail address is pretty private and has great filters, so I was fairly certain that it wasn't spam and it just might be something I needed to view. Did I ever. Apparently, another woman named Holly Blakely had gotten tangled up with my emailer. But instead of the typical vitriol, I found an eloquent grrl who was simply letting the other gal onto his tricks.

Most people would discard such an email. It wasn't intended for me, I had no interest in the matter.

I couldn't do it. I had been in such a similar emotional state so recently, I felt like I was reading something I had written. It brought back so many feelings of insecurity, doubt, frustration, anger, betrayal, you name it. This grrl was in pain. Doubling over at the gut pain. I got it. In fact, parts of me were still there. So I responded to her, letting her know that I wasn't the "Holly Blakely" she was looking for (insert R2D2 reference), but I knew how she was feeling, she was better off without this scumbag (and trust me...never was a greater scumbag...my ex doesn't even come close) and she didn't need that crap. Signed, someone you've never met, but has your best interest at heart.

Thus began a year long series of emails. Some involved our romantic trevails, some involved our mundane life. We are Facebook friends, and she is prettier than I ever imagined, a Texas gal, through and through. We have each had encouraging words for each other that one may or may not get from a "real life" friend. Who knows. She knows that she has a resting place here in the ATL, and has let me know that I have a haven in San Antonio (do love that city, by the way).

There seems to be a "weirdness" about relationships that are born online. However, I am so amazed at how a grrl/grrl friendship can flourish online. No pretention. No agenda.

Melissa, I'm glad I've gotten to know you. You have helped me more than you know.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Epic yard work fail

It always seems that no matter what I try to accomplish around my house (or in my life in general), the project turns out to be larger than me and never ends the way I'd like. On Monday, my day off, I decided to take advantage of the perfect autumn weather and attempt to FINALLY finish up the perennial beds I laid out in my front yard this past summer. The goal is that I diminish the amount of grass that needs constant attention during the warmer months and give my little cottage an updated look in the landscaping department. So I made the trek over to Lowe's to purchase landscaping fabric and more mulch. (On a side note: Why does it seem like everyone I know is able to obtain mulch for free except me?) I purchased a large roll of landscaping fabric and three bags of Preen mulch. Yeah, that stuff never goes as far as you think it will. I wasn't even able to finish one section of the bed. Now I realize that I've laid out rather large beds, but damn. It looks like the weather might clear up a bit tomorrow, so perhaps I will carry myself back over there and purchase enough mulch to at least finish a section. I need some closure on this, people.

I did, however, have a bit more success on new winter plants for either side of my entry way and lovely planters for them. I found very pretty chocolate brown planters on sale for $14 a piece (!) and Pacific Spruces on sale for $10. Now my porch is sporting a pair of lovely evergreens that I can decorate with lights for the holidays, still be appropriate after New Year's, and then get put away in a shady place during the warmer months while they await their re-appearance next holiday season. That part was epic win.

On other fronts, I think I'm going to need to take a break from Facebook for a minute. It's getting a little creepy for me, the way it "connects" people. This evening, I came across pictures of my ex-husband on a "romantic weekend" with his current squeeze. Now normally this wouldn't be a problem, except that this current "girlfriend" is the one I caught him in bed with and who he denied any further relationship with. I really don't need to run across and album titled "Best 48 hours ever!" Trust me honey. I'm sure it wasn't. I've slept with him. It ain't that great. But because I find these little tidbits insinuated into my feeds, I think that I might need to back away, slowly. And perhaps "un-friend" some people. And be a little more selective about my online life.

Change of subject. Everyone. And yes, I mean YOU, the one sitting there that never leaves their apartment, needs to come see "Second City: Peach Drop, Stop, and Roll" on the Hertz stage at the Alliance. I know some of you saw it last year and were underwhelmed. The writing this year is greatly improved, knowing their audience much better. Be warned, on Tuesdays through Fridays, there is a "secret third act" of improv that lasts about an extra 20 minutes. So if you're not down with sitting through and additional 20 minutes, book your seats for a weekend show. But come see it. You won't be disappointed. It's a great alternative to the usual holiday shows. But certainly not appropriate for kids under 16 and in no way suitable for work.

Now that my unabashed plug is out of the way, I'm going to retire to the boudoir for some "Law and Order" re-runs and maybe a little one on one with Anderson Cooper and Larry King. I'm going to steal an idea from Jeff Kay at The West Virginia Surf Report and leave you with a question.

What has been the most "distressing" thing you have ever come across on a social networking site?

So to all a good night, and don't let the STD's bite.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

I'm back.

Poor Donutorama. How I have neglected you. It seems I haven't done any care and feeding of this blog since March. But I'm back! So much has changed since then. You all have read about my trials and tribulations of trying to purchase my home. I moved in at at the end of May, and trust me, the trials and tribulations certainly didn't end there. While I am still completely in love with my 1920 Craftsman bungalow with the huge front porch, wainscotted dining room, and marbled fireplace, I feel like I am living in Grey Gardens. Nothing here works. It started with the HVAC this summer. As in, the AC didn't work. Turns out, someone had stolen the copper supply line between the unit and the evaporator coil. Fuckers. I hate them. A lot. Then, I got broken into. But the police did catch the burglars. That story is an entire other post, because it's hilarious. I'm still awaiting the restitution payments. But just imagine 3 guys under the age of 22 standing around my house muttering "Damn. This white bitch ain't got nuttin'". Then they got trapped in my house and had to exit via the front door where Atlanta's finest were patiently waiting for them. Except there was a high speed chase. With helicopters. Perhaps you saw it on WSB. Good times.

So now, due to the HVAC issues, I'm currently living without central heat. Don't worry. I have plenty of space heaters. It's not all that cold here, but I do need to caulk up the windows on Monday. If I can see daylight, it needs caulk.

On other fronts, I still have my eye towards travel. On June 24, I will be leaving for 12 days in Egypt and Jordan. I know that Egypt sounds enticing, but I'm actually more excited about Jordan. In fact, if Jordan wasn't a destination on this trip, I would have never had Egypt on my radar. It's not nearly as long as the trip we took to Turkey 2 years ago, but seems even more intriguing and more boundary pushing. My travel partner and I have both developed a slight obsession with the Middle East and I, for one, can't wait to delve further into it. I realize that Turkey isn't considered part of the Middle East, but trust me, outside of Istanbul, it should be.

Tomorrow night I will be going to see Chris Knight at Smith's. I've been a fan of Chris's since sometime around 1996 and one of the bands I used to tour with always did a cover of "It Ain't Easy Being Me". When I saw him last year at the same venue, it was quite a treat. Tight band. Brilliant and earnest delivery. Attentive, yet non-douchebag crowd who liked to drink. All the makings of a good outlaw country show. You all should go. He was released on Decca records, but then they folded, so now he's been independently released.

Catch up with me tomorrow night, either at Smith's or at the Alliance, where I will be presiding sonic duties over the Second City show. Either is a good time. Perhaps I'll buy you a PBR and tell you about how my robbers were foiled.

Love, Peace, and hair grease.