Since I made the decision to jump ship from the corporate world, I have noticed a few things.
When I get asked the inevitable "...so, what do you do?" and I reply "I'm an artist", more often than not, people respond with "THAT is AWESOME", "I SO wish I could go do THAT", or "you are SO lucky". I love these comments, I admit - I love what I do, and when you can answer the "what do you DO?" question with an answer that you're genuinely happy about, it is a great feeling.
Since I've been having these conversations, however, I have discovered that there is a staggering number of people out there who really and truly want to do the same thing I've done. My friends joke with me that I've convinced quite a few people to quit miserable jobs when I've talked to them in bars like this. A couple of photographers, a few painters and sculptors, a knitter/crochet-er, you name it, I've heard it. At this point, they either tiptoe around or ask me very bluntly - depending on how badly they hate their current position "HOW did you do it?" I usually respond with a very vague, but specific answer:
I'm still learning.
I've had to do a lot to get where I am. Having no art degree, no contacts outside Virginia, and hell - only a small French Grumbacher easel and some student-grade paint that had survived five moves - I knew I had an uphill climb, to say the least, but I had to start somewhere. I read everything I could on the internet, devoured the books I could find on Amazon, and asked everyone I could think of for advice, but I soon found that there's very little practical advice out there - no one wrote "How to Give Up a Big Paycheck For a Career That Typically is Associated With Dying Penniless For Dummies". I was on my own. For all that it's worth, however, I'll begin to give some practical advice over the course of this whole blog.
My ongoing series: How to leave your job to do what you WANT to do.
Part One: My Story
Before you even begin to tackle the who-what-where-when-why, take this one piece of advice.
Give up on the idea that you'll make it go away. Chances are, if you are really considering that kind of leap, you're already mid-air. Tim Burton, the creator of some of the most innovative films of the 20th Century, said one of my favorite quotes: "If you have the creative bug, it isn't ever going to go away. I'd just get used to the idea of dealing with it."
When I decided to finally listen to myself, I was literally scheduling my lunch break every day for one reason: to go into the park and - no, not eat lunch, but have a full-blown, honest-to-God panic attack. It was almost a daily occurrence. I was in Independence Park that day on my lunch break, reading a book called Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. I had just gone through the most painful breakup of my life, and I literally needed something to at least distract me from life for one hour. My dear friend Celeste had recommended the book to me, and the first few chapters had blown me away - I literally thought that the woman had somehow written everything I had been going through. Her description of heartbreak is quite possibly the most identifying piece of literature I have ever read, BAR NONE. I sat down and began reading chapter 27 - ironic since I was 27 at the time - and I became terrified at how much the story was speaking to me.
Gilbert, after going through a divorce and a breakup that spurred a chemical depression, took a life-changing year-long trip that began in Italy. In Chapter 27, she spoke of how she and her friend took a day trip to Naples, asking a friend in Rome to recommend a specific pizza place. It made me laugh out loud when her friend took great pains to write down the name of the pizzeria, pressing the address into her hand and saying - with all the passion and emphasis that he could muster - an Italian ORDER:
"You must go there. You must have the pizza margherita. If you do not, please lie to me and say that you did."
Having had my own falling-in-love-with-Italy, I laughed - if you know Italian culture, you know that Italians are passionate about everything. You could ask a Roman or a Neopolitan about his shower curtain and they would convince you that their shower curtain is the best that design has ever had to offer, and no shower curtain will ever compete. Naples is quite possibly the pinnacle of this type of passion. Naples is, however, by far, the most dangerous city I have ever been in. I met a U.S. Marine while traveling who said he felt safer in Fallujah than in Naples. My sister - a seasoned traveler who has walked through dark alleys in Islamic countries - was genuinely terrified when she and I had to transfer trains late at night in Naples. Every guidebook will tell you to JUST NOT GO. But Neopolitans? They love it. They're passionate about everything, and more specifically, about being passionate. Considering they invented both pizza AND ice cream, yeah, it's worth examining despite the travel advisory.
Upon arriving Naples, Gilbert made a beeline for the pizzeria with her Swedish friend, Sofie. They order the Pizza Margherita, and soon fall deep in pizzalove. They look at each other and dare ask:
"Why do we even attempt to make pizza in Stockholm? Why do we even attempt food in Stockholm?"
Yes, it was that good. I realized in that very second something that to this day still brings tears to my eyes.
I was pizza in Stockholm.
Yes, you read that right. I had been trying for so long to make ME into something that I wasn't innately supposed to be, I had completely lost any sense of what I was. I had a great job, a Masters degree, a fabulous apartment, more designer jeans than I knew what to do with, great freaking hair (if I do say so myself)...and none of it was working. I was trying to fill a hole that wasn't ever going to be filled with promotions, jeans, purses, highlights or anything else - except that which I was ignoring. I was a pizza in Stockholm being made with the same ingredients, with the same methods, in the same ovens as the ones used in Italy - but that magic, fabulous pizza just wasn't happening. But Naples...every pizza cook in that pizzeria makes every pizza with the same feeling in every bone in his body -
THIS pizza is the BEST pizza that has EVER been made.
That's it. That's the secret ingredient. The passion. The love. The excitement. That's what made it the best pizza in the world. Nothing else came close.
I decided then and there that I was sick and tired of being Stockholm pizza. I needed to be Naples pizza. Perhaps by some divine intervention, it just came to me: I was never going to be happy in the career path that I had selected. There was no way around it - I needed to go do what I was, dare I say, born to do.
I walked back into work with the most euphoric sense of clarity that I have EVER experienced. I went home, poured a BIG glass of wine and called my mom my to tell her about my decision. I just blurted it out: "Mom I'm going to leave my job and go be an artist." I fully expected her to be stunned, start yelling, tell me I was stupid, or call the loony bin. But she surprised me by pausing and saying what every person who really knew me would later say as well.
"I think that's the best decision you've made in ten years."
That was the easy part.
How did I do the other stuff? How am I still eating? How did I give it up? Stay tuned.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
I got a new haircut ...
Hair sucks for me up here. The reality is that I've never found a stylist in Philly that I liked, and for the past six months, I've been cutting my OWN hair because it just saved money. I had a couple bucks burning a hole in my pocket today, so I went into a place that looked a little swanky on Walnut Street. I was fully prepared to pay $50-75 or so. The "receptionist" said HE would take me right away. Oh gosh.
1. I should have caught the "special $50 highlights" sign. $50 for highlights usually means its a CHEAP place.
2. When the receptionist is also a stylist, it freaks me out. I've seen "Blow Out", the nice places are supposed to PAY someone ELSE to be desk people.
3. Ever heard the saying "never trust a skinny chef"? Put it this way - my stylist was BALD.
I figured he couldn't do any more damage than I had already done, so I let him have at it. I just wanted the ends off, get it shaped up and fixed from my home hack-jobs, and I wanted to discuss getting bangs. He said "well, do you want to just trust me and I'll make it hot?"...sure.
It's uneven, I'm gonna have to get some major touch-up tomorrow, and the bangs are a little too long - I was envisioning the Heidi Klum haircut but longer, I think he took the "longer" part to mean my bangs as well.
Here I am...everyone really likes it so far, so I'm painting the town blonde with my roommate tonight to celebrate and blow the last of the jingle in my pocket.
No, my arm didn't get cut off. It's behind me to steady myself while I pressed the shutter button on this iSight thing...I didn't know until tonight it was also a VIDEO camera!
On a side note, my big writing project - the "how to quit your job and go do what you love" series, starts tomorrow. I also have a Friday deadline for another site that I write for that I haven't even STARTED. And yet, I'm going out drinking. I never learn.
1. I should have caught the "special $50 highlights" sign. $50 for highlights usually means its a CHEAP place.
2. When the receptionist is also a stylist, it freaks me out. I've seen "Blow Out", the nice places are supposed to PAY someone ELSE to be desk people.
3. Ever heard the saying "never trust a skinny chef"? Put it this way - my stylist was BALD.
I figured he couldn't do any more damage than I had already done, so I let him have at it. I just wanted the ends off, get it shaped up and fixed from my home hack-jobs, and I wanted to discuss getting bangs. He said "well, do you want to just trust me and I'll make it hot?"...sure.
It's uneven, I'm gonna have to get some major touch-up tomorrow, and the bangs are a little too long - I was envisioning the Heidi Klum haircut but longer, I think he took the "longer" part to mean my bangs as well.
Here I am...everyone really likes it so far, so I'm painting the town blonde with my roommate tonight to celebrate and blow the last of the jingle in my pocket.
No, my arm didn't get cut off. It's behind me to steady myself while I pressed the shutter button on this iSight thing...I didn't know until tonight it was also a VIDEO camera!On a side note, my big writing project - the "how to quit your job and go do what you love" series, starts tomorrow. I also have a Friday deadline for another site that I write for that I haven't even STARTED. And yet, I'm going out drinking. I never learn.
He's Just Not That Into You...
These two little birdies sit out on my deck every morning and I've started watching them...because when you're old, you pick up bird-watching.
The male, on the left, is Andy Warhol. The female, on the right, is Edie Sedgwick. Who knows, though, I do live on the edge of the Gayborhood, so they could be two males or two females. Since Andy Warhol was gay, I figure it's a little appropriate.
What I find interesting:
Edie follows Andy all over the place at first. He barely pays attention to her. They fight a little for food, even the stuff SHE got herself. Then she gets frustrated and goes over to the other side of the deck. Andy flies off. Edie flies off. Andy comes back. Edie's not there. He leaves again. Edie comes back and just chills out. Andy comes back, Edie takes off as soon as he gets there, and Andy takes off again, all sad. Edie comes back again, then Andy comes back again. Edie ignores Andy. Andy tries to get close to her, she goes and plays on the other side, Andy follows. Andy teases her and pesters her until they finally just make up and sit on the deck together and watch the Magic Garden.
This happens every day.
I don't see a nest, so I think they're past the child-bearing years, or maybe they're just a DINK (Double Income No Kids) demographic. Either way...
Edie, stop taking his shit.
Don't waste the pretty.
He's just not that into you.
Take it from me.
The male, on the left, is Andy Warhol. The female, on the right, is Edie Sedgwick. Who knows, though, I do live on the edge of the Gayborhood, so they could be two males or two females. Since Andy Warhol was gay, I figure it's a little appropriate.
What I find interesting:
Edie follows Andy all over the place at first. He barely pays attention to her. They fight a little for food, even the stuff SHE got herself. Then she gets frustrated and goes over to the other side of the deck. Andy flies off. Edie flies off. Andy comes back. Edie's not there. He leaves again. Edie comes back and just chills out. Andy comes back, Edie takes off as soon as he gets there, and Andy takes off again, all sad. Edie comes back again, then Andy comes back again. Edie ignores Andy. Andy tries to get close to her, she goes and plays on the other side, Andy follows. Andy teases her and pesters her until they finally just make up and sit on the deck together and watch the Magic Garden.
This happens every day.
I don't see a nest, so I think they're past the child-bearing years, or maybe they're just a DINK (Double Income No Kids) demographic. Either way...
Edie, stop taking his shit.
Don't waste the pretty.
He's just not that into you.
Take it from me.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
My studio...
When I first got this place, I was PUMPED. Our house is a typical Philadelphia rowhouse (feel free to type my address in and see it on Google streetview for all you who know me on a personal level), and while it has four floors (including the scary basement), it's only 10 feet wide - so there's some odd spaces. The house technically has three bedrooms, but the third looks somewhat like the bedroom that Scarlett Johanssen had in The Nanny Diaries - it's tiiiiiiny. So we shelled out a little more money, I got an extra room for the studio, and my lovely roommate got the parking space. It was great for a while - we had an extra room AND parking, which is literally unheard of in Center City. But after a while, the art career demanded more stuff, and my 10'x7' space is now in dire need of a rehaul, to say the least. How small is it? Here's some pictures:
It even looks bigger in these pics than it really is. Yes, I'm sorry it's a mess, but clutter is kind of an occupational hazard.
Anyway, since I'm zero good at interior design, does ANYONE have any ideas on how to make this space more usable? I've researched it - there are almost NO helpful websites on how to revamp an artist's studio, especially when you're a renter. Here's my requirements:
1. I'm not willing to downsize on the easel. It's my grandmother's and I need it that big and sturdy.
2. I need to be able to get a drawing table/flat surface in there.
3. I'd love to get some sort of way to get all of my art books organized and handy for reference. Right now they kind of take a backseat to materials, and I have little space to display anything. 4. Most importantly, I need to have my materials handy, and NOT put away in drawers.
5. I need to have some sort of "flat file" storage.
6. That black shelving unit can go (anyone want to help in exchange for taking that from me? it's actually from Potterybarn, I found it just sitting on the curb - rich people throw away all kinds of good stuff), but the stuff on it needs to get organized somehow.
7. I have almost NO money. I work in trade!
Finally, most will notice the deep red color - the landlord will pay for paint and materials if I want to paint it, but I can't afford to lose more than a day in the studio - and it would take a couple days if I did it on my own. If anybody in Philly (or anywhere else!) wants to partake in a painting party, I will provide dinner and beer in exchange for some good old-fashioned LABOR!
If you feel this is a designer-worthy challenge and you submit me to Oprah and Nate Berkus shows up, please be advised: I will attack him and force him to go straight for me.
It even looks bigger in these pics than it really is. Yes, I'm sorry it's a mess, but clutter is kind of an occupational hazard. Anyway, since I'm zero good at interior design, does ANYONE have any ideas on how to make this space more usable? I've researched it - there are almost NO helpful websites on how to revamp an artist's studio, especially when you're a renter. Here's my requirements:
1. I'm not willing to downsize on the easel. It's my grandmother's and I need it that big and sturdy.
2. I need to be able to get a drawing table/flat surface in there.
3. I'd love to get some sort of way to get all of my art books organized and handy for reference. Right now they kind of take a backseat to materials, and I have little space to display anything. 4. Most importantly, I need to have my materials handy, and NOT put away in drawers.
5. I need to have some sort of "flat file" storage.
6. That black shelving unit can go (anyone want to help in exchange for taking that from me? it's actually from Potterybarn, I found it just sitting on the curb - rich people throw away all kinds of good stuff), but the stuff on it needs to get organized somehow.
7. I have almost NO money. I work in trade!
Finally, most will notice the deep red color - the landlord will pay for paint and materials if I want to paint it, but I can't afford to lose more than a day in the studio - and it would take a couple days if I did it on my own. If anybody in Philly (or anywhere else!) wants to partake in a painting party, I will provide dinner and beer in exchange for some good old-fashioned LABOR!
If you feel this is a designer-worthy challenge and you submit me to Oprah and Nate Berkus shows up, please be advised: I will attack him and force him to go straight for me.
Portraits, Part Two...
I decided to work on portraits yesterday and today and got a few things done. I got a few things done, one of the biggest being that I got the commission I was working on completed. I called
the mom of the subject, hopefully she'll come by as soon as possible to pick it up, and more importantly, pay what's owed.
I also worked a lot more on Caroline's...I'm still working on it, but here's an update:
It's weird how much you actually DO have to see the subject in real life to get it right, or at least "good enough." I'm still working, there's a couple of things that I'm holding off until as late as possible since it's what's going to say "okay THAT's my kid." For now, though, it's progressing about like it should.
Finally, I've been working on this, which is based on a picture taken in 1972. One of my biggest problems has been that I left myself few options for properly composing it - I either am going to have to crop off part of the guy on the left or part of the guy on the right, and most likely, parts of both. Kind of a bad thing composition-wise - to have to crop out elements on the left AND right - but I suppose I can manipulate it a little better once I get it on a bigger drawing board or just on a bigger surface.
I'm still working on this one too - the third guy from the left's head is too small, the guy on the right isn't looking how I want him to look, and the child is barely even sketched in. I've got a lot of work to do. I'm not commissioned on this one, it was started during a class I took a while back, then I decided to go a different direction.
I've got some more posting to do today on the art stuff, so stay tuned...
the mom of the subject, hopefully she'll come by as soon as possible to pick it up, and more importantly, pay what's owed.
I also worked a lot more on Caroline's...I'm still working on it, but here's an update:
It's weird how much you actually DO have to see the subject in real life to get it right, or at least "good enough." I'm still working, there's a couple of things that I'm holding off until as late as possible since it's what's going to say "okay THAT's my kid." For now, though, it's progressing about like it should.
Finally, I've been working on this, which is based on a picture taken in 1972. One of my biggest problems has been that I left myself few options for properly composing it - I either am going to have to crop off part of the guy on the left or part of the guy on the right, and most likely, parts of both. Kind of a bad thing composition-wise - to have to crop out elements on the left AND right - but I suppose I can manipulate it a little better once I get it on a bigger drawing board or just on a bigger surface.
I'm still working on this one too - the third guy from the left's head is too small, the guy on the right isn't looking how I want him to look, and the child is barely even sketched in. I've got a lot of work to do. I'm not commissioned on this one, it was started during a class I took a while back, then I decided to go a different direction.
I've got some more posting to do today on the art stuff, so stay tuned...
Monday, April 28, 2008
Good Golly Miss Miley
Oh, Miley.
I wake up this morning and THE breaking story is about RACY PICTURES OF MILEY CYRUS and how there's OUTRAGE and parents have NO IDEA what to tell their children. Turns out Annie Leibowitz, during a photo shoot of the Cyrus clan, took a picture of Miley-slash-Hannah Cyrus-Hyphen-Montana, only for Disney to get their panties in a bunch because the photo was too racy. Ladies and gentlemen, I present the ultra-scandalous photo in question:
Yeah. That's it. Homegirl needs to wash her face and eat a sandwich, but as far as outrage...
Be outraged about something else. How about genocide in the Sudan? That's an outrage-worthy situation. If you reeeeeally want to be outraged about the life of a 15-year-old girl, pick on something like Jessica-Simpson's-Dad-in-Training Billy Ray Cyrus' creepy comment on Oprah that he "just wants to be Miley's best friend". Or the fact that Miss Miley is on the most annoying show this planet has ever produced. But outrage over THAT photograph? Oh jeez.
One of the most comical things about this whole much-ado-about-nothing is Disney's reaction to the photographs, which probably prompted Miley's mea culpa, er, disclaimer regarding the photo shoot and resulting work. I love Disney and all, but really - does anyone else remember that Disney is where Britney Spears and Lindsey Lohan started their careers? If I were a gambler, I'd go for the Under on the time it would take for photographs to surface of Miley Cyrus face down in the cocaine-covered lap of a Jonas Brother. Hell, if I were in the pharmaceutical business, I'd be running a cocaine pipeline directly into Disney studios, it'd be way more efficient than keeping dealers on retainer. They may pride themselves on family entertainment, but let's be honest - it ain't the man and the mouse anymore.
When I got my tattoo touched up, there was a guy in the parlor getting a pretty bad-ass tattoo - across his chest was the lettering "THE BEST-LAID PLANS"....man, if that doesn't speak volumes about parents pushing their kids into entertainment, nothing does. I'd love to think that these kids could come out all peachy and rosy and drug-free, but hey, that's not even possible in suburbia these days. Dad quits his job to move the fam to L.A. and help Susie McCuteAsAButton further her "career", becomes her manager, then when the family cash cow figures out that she's the primary breadwinner and blows it all on drugs and thousand-dollar purses, no one is more shocked than her parents. Seems like a good plan at the time, but when you're shelling out $25,000 a day for rehab for a 14-year-old, it ain't worth it.
I don't think this stupid picture is anything to write home about - if you don't believe me, go check out the pictures that 15-year-olds are posting of themselves on myspace. But here's a piece of advice - if Annie Leibowitz, Jeffrey Katzenberg or anyone else comes knocking at your door to make your kid a star, do yourself a favor and SHUT THE DOOR.
Your kid's cute, but it ain't THAT cute.
I wake up this morning and THE breaking story is about RACY PICTURES OF MILEY CYRUS and how there's OUTRAGE and parents have NO IDEA what to tell their children. Turns out Annie Leibowitz, during a photo shoot of the Cyrus clan, took a picture of Miley-slash-Hannah Cyrus-Hyphen-Montana, only for Disney to get their panties in a bunch because the photo was too racy. Ladies and gentlemen, I present the ultra-scandalous photo in question:
Yeah. That's it. Homegirl needs to wash her face and eat a sandwich, but as far as outrage...Be outraged about something else. How about genocide in the Sudan? That's an outrage-worthy situation. If you reeeeeally want to be outraged about the life of a 15-year-old girl, pick on something like Jessica-Simpson's-Dad-in-Training Billy Ray Cyrus' creepy comment on Oprah that he "just wants to be Miley's best friend". Or the fact that Miss Miley is on the most annoying show this planet has ever produced. But outrage over THAT photograph? Oh jeez.
One of the most comical things about this whole much-ado-about-nothing is Disney's reaction to the photographs, which probably prompted Miley's mea culpa, er, disclaimer regarding the photo shoot and resulting work. I love Disney and all, but really - does anyone else remember that Disney is where Britney Spears and Lindsey Lohan started their careers? If I were a gambler, I'd go for the Under on the time it would take for photographs to surface of Miley Cyrus face down in the cocaine-covered lap of a Jonas Brother. Hell, if I were in the pharmaceutical business, I'd be running a cocaine pipeline directly into Disney studios, it'd be way more efficient than keeping dealers on retainer. They may pride themselves on family entertainment, but let's be honest - it ain't the man and the mouse anymore.
When I got my tattoo touched up, there was a guy in the parlor getting a pretty bad-ass tattoo - across his chest was the lettering "THE BEST-LAID PLANS"....man, if that doesn't speak volumes about parents pushing their kids into entertainment, nothing does. I'd love to think that these kids could come out all peachy and rosy and drug-free, but hey, that's not even possible in suburbia these days. Dad quits his job to move the fam to L.A. and help Susie McCuteAsAButton further her "career", becomes her manager, then when the family cash cow figures out that she's the primary breadwinner and blows it all on drugs and thousand-dollar purses, no one is more shocked than her parents. Seems like a good plan at the time, but when you're shelling out $25,000 a day for rehab for a 14-year-old, it ain't worth it.
I don't think this stupid picture is anything to write home about - if you don't believe me, go check out the pictures that 15-year-olds are posting of themselves on myspace. But here's a piece of advice - if Annie Leibowitz, Jeffrey Katzenberg or anyone else comes knocking at your door to make your kid a star, do yourself a favor and SHUT THE DOOR.
Your kid's cute, but it ain't THAT cute.
Quote of the Day #4
"Anybody involved in whatever business they're involved in - they're there for a reason. You can't tell me that proctologists don't have a genuine interest in assholes. Because they do."
-Jay McCarroll, Eleven Minutes - playing Monday at the Independent Film Festival of Boston
-Jay McCarroll, Eleven Minutes - playing Monday at the Independent Film Festival of Boston
Sunday, April 27, 2008
I've laid grout, tile and mirror with this guy, he gets a plug
I took a class last fall with the amazingly talented Isaiah Zagar. I'm no mosaic-ist, but I live next door to the Philadelphia Magic Garden and decided it might be a good idea to stimulate creativity, meet people, create some new veins of artwork, all of the above...who knew, I had money burning a hole in my pocket, and it seemed a good way to spend it. It was an experience I can't even explain...but I'll try in a later post. I met some great people in all kinds of creative mindsets. A graphic designer, a couple who owned some sort of paint-your-own-pottery place, one was trying to integrate murals into her work in the Camden County Community Gardens, and - my favorite - a fashion designer based out of Philly. If you're like me - and by "like me" I mean "watches reality television like it's her job" - you may know him...
Jay McCarroll, the enormously talented winner of Season One of Project Runway.
Jay and I spent two days with about 15 others making a big old mosaic mural in a warehouse space in South Philly (Sidebar: part of Zagar's genius must lay in the fact that he somehow has people pay him to do his work...how can I swing that?), and while working, Jay, his sister and I had a grand old time eating Italian deli sandwiches, chatting, gossiping about the state of Britney Spears, and generally creating and contributing toward our collective artistic madness.
Anyway, I ran into him the other night on Walnut Street. Of course, it was right after my roommate and I had cried over a few glasses of wine and conversations about boys, so I got a nice little "Molly, are you okay?". Yes, Jay, I'm fine.
But since I love supporting Philly artists, great design and nice people who cure a hangover by singing "Me Against the Music" to me on rainy, cold October mornings while watching cement mix, Jay gets a free plug.
Jay just launched a new website with cute stuff for sale, has a new film in the Philadelphia Film Festival and has a blog to update you on the hystericalness of it all.
Go check it out...
PS - The picture really has nothing to do with Jay other than the fact that it was taken during Isaiah's workshop. Seriously, that's the guy's HOUSE. Every square INCH of that place is covered in his work.
Quote of the day #3
"That was THE most disgusting thing I have ever seen..."
-Meghan.
I seriously raced to my email to warn her NOT to google 2G1C. I feel awful, having exposed her to this. It's too awful for words. I agree with her statement.
-Meghan.
I seriously raced to my email to warn her NOT to google 2G1C. I feel awful, having exposed her to this. It's too awful for words. I agree with her statement.
Overcast Sunday is fantastic because...
I'm cleaning the house today.
We're talking top-to-bottom, bottom-to-top, obsessive-compulsive, Real-Simple-Magazine-could-do-a-feature-story kinda cleaning.
My favorite part of this?
I'm digging out my...
SPRING CLOTHES!
Sundresses, Rainbow Sandals, White Pants and Lightweight Jackets ahoy!
We're talking top-to-bottom, bottom-to-top, obsessive-compulsive, Real-Simple-Magazine-could-do-a-feature-story kinda cleaning.
My favorite part of this?
I'm digging out my...
SPRING CLOTHES!
Sundresses, Rainbow Sandals, White Pants and Lightweight Jackets ahoy!
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Quote of the day #2
"I believe that I carry the Kingdom of Heaven between my legs..."
-Lyric, season 2, "the Bad Girls Club"
while I consider myself a feminist and know what she's getting at, this, as well as Lyric herself, just scares the crap out of me.
-Lyric, season 2, "the Bad Girls Club"
while I consider myself a feminist and know what she's getting at, this, as well as Lyric herself, just scares the crap out of me.
Randoms...
A couple of random updates...
1. The cat went home to his owner. Thank God.
2. I've had a couple of people email me asking about my friend April, who set up a chipin.com account to collect for her kittycat (Nala Arowen) to get shipped over to the USA from her former home in New Zealand. I'm looking for the link she sent out to post up here. I certify that it's a good cause, and while it's no 501.3.c, she's pregnant (about 6 1/2 months), her husband is still in New Zealand and she's stuck in Lynchburg just nesting and eating prenatal vitamins by the handful. Take a couple bucks (you can paypal it) and contribute to helping the pregnant lady out. She'll be grateful and will return the Karma. I'll post the link as soon as I get it.
3. Still working on a couple of pieces for here with the feedback I've received from the editor. I did the parenting one (feel free to comment with your opinion, even if you hate me now), and a couple others are in the works.
4. I'm debating switching to WordPress or Typepad. Blogger's great, but with a little work, I can get a lot better results from these services. If anyone has any experience they'd like to share, holler.
5. Trying to increase traffic on here without having to refer readers in from the other site I write on. I'd rather keep them separate, and while I don't care if some people from one find the other, I'd rather keep them apart for the time being.
6. Writer's block is and never has been a problem for me. Artist's block, however, is a very real and sometimes insurmountable problem for me. I'm trying to get some of that juice flowing, first and foremost by trying some different media than I had been doing in the past. Also a way to use up some art supplies that have come into my possession over the years. Ideas?
7. I'm looking for a couple of pieces of software - Adobe Creative Suite (CS3) for Mac OS X (Leopard), all the design stuff. If you happen to know of anything...
8. I'm a little under the weather today, mostly because I ignored my lifelong intolerance to dairy products and had a big old VAT of Cheerios last night. Last time I saw a doctor, she wanted me to get tested for Celiac Disease, which is largely caused by an allergy to dairy and wheat gluten. If you watch The View, it's what Elisabeth Hasselbeck has. I haven't gone to the specialist (hello, COBRA copays) but at this point I may have no other option, I end up losing weight every ten seconds and feeling like general ass if I eat an increased amount of dairy or wheat. I sincerely hope this is NOT the diagnosis - I love carbs and milk, dammit. But I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired, so we'll see.
9. If I feel better tomorrow, I'm doing the Philadelphia March of Dimes Walk/Run, which benefits the prevention of birth defects and funds research for healthier premature babies. I was an early baby myself, so I try and do it every year. I just found out this week that one of my sorority sisters had twin girls recently who were born at 30 weeks....I don't know too much, but they're on that progress train, and I put them down on my "I'm doing this for..." sheet. If you'd like to donate to the cause, send me a message and I can point you to the website.
10. If I can get the money together, I am planning on taking a writing seminar in June in - you listening Meghan? - Charlotte, NC. So if you're looking for artwork and would like to help a starving artist, now's the time. If you ever read Creative Loafing in Atlanta (I love you, Philadelphia Weekly and CityPaper, but CL is just an animal of its own), Hollis Gillespie, one of their contributors, runs the seminar. If I could ever hope that my writing would emulate a particular writer, I'd pick her. I read her books a while back and laughed so hard, I peed a little.
To all my writing friends, if you'd like to take a great seminar, come with me. The promotional materials I received promise "finger food, champagne, and inappropriate conversation." For all the difficulties involved in a creative profession, I look to the fact that I can deduct THAT from my taxes as evidence that the First Amendment was written for people like us. And as living proof that we have the coolest jobs ever invented.
11. I'd like to say how joyously happy I am that New Kids on The Block are going to do a reunion. When I was 11, I was absolutely convinced that Jordan Knight was destined to take my virginity. In retrospect, Joey was the best-looking one but I think if offered the chance, I'd still seriously consider any one of them. Even Donnie, who likes to burn things, or even Jon, who might have a severe panic attack. I saw one of them when I lived in Boston and nearly had a panic attack of my own.
1. The cat went home to his owner. Thank God.
2. I've had a couple of people email me asking about my friend April, who set up a chipin.com account to collect for her kittycat (Nala Arowen) to get shipped over to the USA from her former home in New Zealand. I'm looking for the link she sent out to post up here. I certify that it's a good cause, and while it's no 501.3.c, she's pregnant (about 6 1/2 months), her husband is still in New Zealand and she's stuck in Lynchburg just nesting and eating prenatal vitamins by the handful. Take a couple bucks (you can paypal it) and contribute to helping the pregnant lady out. She'll be grateful and will return the Karma. I'll post the link as soon as I get it.
3. Still working on a couple of pieces for here with the feedback I've received from the editor. I did the parenting one (feel free to comment with your opinion, even if you hate me now), and a couple others are in the works.
4. I'm debating switching to WordPress or Typepad. Blogger's great, but with a little work, I can get a lot better results from these services. If anyone has any experience they'd like to share, holler.
5. Trying to increase traffic on here without having to refer readers in from the other site I write on. I'd rather keep them separate, and while I don't care if some people from one find the other, I'd rather keep them apart for the time being.
6. Writer's block is and never has been a problem for me. Artist's block, however, is a very real and sometimes insurmountable problem for me. I'm trying to get some of that juice flowing, first and foremost by trying some different media than I had been doing in the past. Also a way to use up some art supplies that have come into my possession over the years. Ideas?
7. I'm looking for a couple of pieces of software - Adobe Creative Suite (CS3) for Mac OS X (Leopard), all the design stuff. If you happen to know of anything...
8. I'm a little under the weather today, mostly because I ignored my lifelong intolerance to dairy products and had a big old VAT of Cheerios last night. Last time I saw a doctor, she wanted me to get tested for Celiac Disease, which is largely caused by an allergy to dairy and wheat gluten. If you watch The View, it's what Elisabeth Hasselbeck has. I haven't gone to the specialist (hello, COBRA copays) but at this point I may have no other option, I end up losing weight every ten seconds and feeling like general ass if I eat an increased amount of dairy or wheat. I sincerely hope this is NOT the diagnosis - I love carbs and milk, dammit. But I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired, so we'll see.
9. If I feel better tomorrow, I'm doing the Philadelphia March of Dimes Walk/Run, which benefits the prevention of birth defects and funds research for healthier premature babies. I was an early baby myself, so I try and do it every year. I just found out this week that one of my sorority sisters had twin girls recently who were born at 30 weeks....I don't know too much, but they're on that progress train, and I put them down on my "I'm doing this for..." sheet. If you'd like to donate to the cause, send me a message and I can point you to the website.
10. If I can get the money together, I am planning on taking a writing seminar in June in - you listening Meghan? - Charlotte, NC. So if you're looking for artwork and would like to help a starving artist, now's the time. If you ever read Creative Loafing in Atlanta (I love you, Philadelphia Weekly and CityPaper, but CL is just an animal of its own), Hollis Gillespie, one of their contributors, runs the seminar. If I could ever hope that my writing would emulate a particular writer, I'd pick her. I read her books a while back and laughed so hard, I peed a little.
To all my writing friends, if you'd like to take a great seminar, come with me. The promotional materials I received promise "finger food, champagne, and inappropriate conversation." For all the difficulties involved in a creative profession, I look to the fact that I can deduct THAT from my taxes as evidence that the First Amendment was written for people like us. And as living proof that we have the coolest jobs ever invented.
11. I'd like to say how joyously happy I am that New Kids on The Block are going to do a reunion. When I was 11, I was absolutely convinced that Jordan Knight was destined to take my virginity. In retrospect, Joey was the best-looking one but I think if offered the chance, I'd still seriously consider any one of them. Even Donnie, who likes to burn things, or even Jon, who might have a severe panic attack. I saw one of them when I lived in Boston and nearly had a panic attack of my own.
Why I'm single in Philly
My brother Blake sent me this.
It's blatantly ripped off of The Phat Phree, so I figure I can put it on my blog for a bit.
It's blatantly ripped off of The Phat Phree, so I figure I can put it on my blog for a bit.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Common sense parenting - free of charge!
So now that I've set up why I feel I'm entitled to give out a little parenting advice:
Moms and Dads, I give you the solution.
1. If you don't want to put in the hard work, I'd recommend birth control. Really. You have no business having kids if you only want to be a part-time parent. I know, it's the hardest job out there, and you need a break. That's my point. It's hard. Really hard. In that fine little gem of a movie, Waitress, there's a great little blink-and-you'll-miss-it line that a random extra says to Keri Russell's character:
"No one tells you how hard it's going to be."
We need to stop glamorizing it like it's all sugar-frosted-wonderfulness. It's hard work, and a thankless job. And yes, it's physically possible to ensure a child reaches the age of 18 without getting killed or significantly harmed with very little effort. But that's not raising a child. You, and you alone, pick up an obligation to make sure your offspring are functioning and contributing members of society. It's a 24-hour-a-day job, and if you don't want it, seventy-five cents worth of latex can prevent it.
2. Stop teaching your kid that his shit doesn't stink.
If Junior thinks he's perfect, he'll do whatever the hell he wants. When he does something bad or annoying, point it out. He can't fix anything he doesn't know is broken.
3. Teach your child that they do not have the right to treat others as if they are below them.
I can not begin to describe how irate I get when I see a parent treating a waitress or barista like they are the scum of the earth. You have no idea how hard they work, and many of them are single parents who are actually doing a better job than you. If you are financially well off, do yourself a favor - don't let your kid know. Do they want name-brand clothes? Make them work for them. Teach your child to say "please" and "thank you". To EVERYONE. I'm talking toll-booth attendants, policemen, waitresses, everyone. No please or thank you? Sorry, no treat.
4. Model the behavior you want to see.
When you get done being a brat with the barista, what do you think you just taught your kid? When you threw a fit over the done-ness of a steak, you have modeled BAD MANNERS to your child. If you want your child to pick up his room, show him that you're picking up the mess you made in the kitchen when you made yourself a sandwich. But hey, if you want your kid to be a little shit, then by all means, be a big shit. The first way kids learn is through mimicry, and they get all the material they need from you.
5. Do not stoop down to their level.
I see this every goddamn day. Kid wants candy. Mom says no. Kid screams. Mom screams back. Kid throws punches. Mom spanks kid. Congratulations, lady. You've just taught the kid how to control the situation and get Mom cranky in a heartbeat. Oh, and by the way, he just took the candy and sat down and ate it while you're paying for your Valium refill. You taught him to steal as well. Your child's emotional growth is now stunted at two. Better call Juvie and reserve him a spot.
6. Give your child limits and use the word NO as often as necessary.
One of the greatest lessons my mom ever taught me when baby-sitting is a simple twist of what I was saying. When you say "You better get over here, I am COUNTING"...do not say "One...Two...Three..." Instead, say it like this: "Five..four...three..." Yep, go backwards. Kid KNOWS that One is the end. Going up gives him unlimited time to go on continuing whatever he's doing. And as for NO...since when did it become a DFACS case to say "NO" to your kid? I don't care if you have the money for the candy. Kid doesn't need it. Same thing for every toy known to man. Your child will not hate you in ten years because you didn't give him his very own plasma television or a snickers bar. If he does, well, you've got problems in other departments.
7. Teach your child that not everyone thinks they're as cute as you do - and not everyone wants them around.
If you MUST bring your child into a place where there's nothing to do for a child his or her age, (like I don't know...a coffee house), make sure they know - beforehand - that not everyone wants to play Disney on every computer with them. It will translate into later in life, when they realize that not everyone wants a flock of teenagers hanging out in their parking lot. I used to call in sick on that horrible "take your brat to work" day...because every parent had their kid in our office. It was boring enough for me - I can't imagine what it would be like for a kid. So what did the kids do when the copier wasn't fun anymore? They went off to find who might be fun. They thought it would be me. These kids just came to my workspace to hang out. Go through my drawers. Eat my snacks. Sniff my whiteout. Whatever. Might have been okay, but I had work to do. I detested this day because the parents who brought kids in inevitably said "what? they're just kids!" to anyone who remotely complained. If I had to do it one more year, I was going to go sit in whatever kid's 5th grade class for the day, I'd get way more work done that way.
8. Teach them the lessons in little situations and you'll be able to relate the lesson in a bigger situation. Every day at the park, I see kids get in fights with each other and with their parents. Most of the time, I see these moms (usually pushing $900 strollers while on cell phones) just pull the kids off each other (or themselves) and say "stop it." Great, jerk. You're just going from the fire to the fryer. My friend Meghan recently said that her 2 1/2 year-old had hit her, so she sat down and calmly told her the real reason why it hurts to hit someone, because it hurts on the inside too. 2-year-olds want to smack people sometimes. It happens. But by taking the time to sit down and explain in that little situation "why we don't hit people," Meghan effectively warded off her daughter ending up on some girlfight YouTube video down the road and having to teach her daughter how to beg leniency from a judge. Seriously Meghan, good work.
9. Give back. Make your kid do the same.
I'm conservative in thought, but one of the best books I've read in a long time was Bill Clinton's surprisingly politics-free Giving. There are a lot of people and organizations out there who would greatly benefit from your time, money and effort. When children learn how good it feels to help someone, it improves their character. It teaches them to value what they have, and it teaches them to be better toward their fellow citizens. Make your kids give a portion of their allowance to the charity of their choice - give them a HUGE finance lesson by going on any one of the microfinance sites and show them how just lending their money to someone can help them ten-fold. Take a day to volunteer with your child, or take a walk with a trash bag to pick up litter. I assure you, you will never forget the experience, and more importantly, your child will not either. He or she that they DO have an impact - what kind of impact they have is up to them.
10. Emphasize that words hurt just as bad as sticks and stones.
Ever see Mean Girls? It's real. And it's learned. Hear of that kid who killed herself because of taunting by a group of kids over myspace? What broke my heart so much about that story is that the whole damn thing was started by one of the mean girl's MOTHER. Somebody hold that stupid witch down and tie her tubes, now. People like her need to get OUT of the gene pool.
11. Don't let them be mean to each other.
I was never more proud of my younger brother than when I heard that he stood up to the kids on his soccer team when they picked on a player who was an easy target. Even the kid who was picked on said "it's okay" and brushed their bullying off, but my brother stood up because it was NOT okay - those kids tipped the poor kid over in a portable toilet. He could have died - if not from the impact, certainly from any number of bacterial infections. Not only that, the company that owned the toilet is in an honest, albeit gross, business. The owner of that company suffered. Some of those kids didn't know better, but I hope they learned. Edmund Burke once said "All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." If you are allowing your kid to do something that hurts someone - be it physically, emotionally or financially - you are a jerk. Your kids look to you to tell them what is right or wrong. It is your duty to instruct them. I love the idea that we can hold parents personally and financially liable for the actions of their children for this very reason.
12. Punishment WORKS.
I'll tell you what - I got spanked, and I will not hesitate to spank mine when it will be effective. I don't remember one ounce of physical pain, but man - I remember the fact that I was punished and that my mom was coming after me. If it's "time out" that you use, use it and make it work. I've even overheard parents saying that they don't want to ground their kids because they "wanted their kids to enjoy childhood." No shit, they'll enjoy childhood if they're allowed to do everything short of murder without fear of retribution. Congratulations, asshole. You've effectively proved that an asshole can raise a kid to be an asshole.
13. Only threaten what you're willing to follow through on - and stick to it.
I was in the Emergency Room last year waiting for a bajillion hours and was stuck next to a woman with her four-year-old BRAT. He continuously threw his stupid little football at everyone - sick people, people with broken bones, and people who had no desire to be in his warpath - and his mom kept saying "give me that ball, it's going in the trash if you do that one more time." Kid kept doing it. Why? Because Mom never threw it in the trash. My mother would have trashed it and forgotten it. You had the chance, and you blew it, you little snot. When the kid gave up on the ball and did something else, the mom kept saying "you better sit down, or I'm gonna get that policeman to take you away. He's mean." That's another story - NEVER EVER teach your child that the policeman is anything but your friend and someone who will help them. But the monster knew his mom wasn't going to follow through on punishment - so he looked right at her and told her to shut up. Smart kid, dumb mom.
14. Don't set them up to fail.
What in the WORLD are people thinking when they bring their kids to a place that they know these kids have zero chance of behaving? You know exactly how long your kids can behave. Good parents will take a risk with good planning - yes, with bribes - "if you are good, we will go for ice cream." Bad parents? They bring their kids to nice restaurants where the food takes forever. Then they're shocked and just ignore it when their kid acts up. When I worked coat check for extra money in graduate school, I seriously had more than one customer ask if they could check their kid. No, really. When I said no, they usually asked the valet. Don't ask your kids to behave in a place where you know it's almost physically impossible for them to do so. Hell, I'm 28 and I can't sit still that long sometimes. Anticipate their attention span and plan around it.
15. Do not expect any special privileges because you are a parent.
So you've kept a kid alive longer than I can keep a plant alive - what, you want a damn gold star or something? Congratu-fucking-lations. While I know its hard, the "I'm a single mom" excuse or "I have a kid in tow" excuse only goes so far with me when what we're talking about has nothing to do with children. I'm not kidding, I was sitting outside yesterday and saw a mom talking to the metermaid about how she was a single mom and therefore shouldn't get a parking ticket. If you're too cheap to put a quarter in the meter, don't drive the brood into the city, lady. The fact that you have two kids and zero husband has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you were too stupid to know when your meter had run out.
16. Teach them to do the right and honorable thing - even when they're the only one who knows.
One of the reasons I respect the military so much is that they consider integrity to be the most essential character trait they possess. If you are ever in Washington, DC, take your kids to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. While the Tomb represents the fact that we honor the soldiers who paid the ultimate sacrifice for us - while asking no recognition - one of the most moving parts is the process of the "walking the line" that the guards do - a particular repetition that is done over and over, 24 hours a day, in all weather, 365 days a year, even on Christmas. While one guard walks the line (in a long, multi-hour repetitive shift), another will occasionally talk with the visitors. Of course, when I went (I was about 12), I HAD to ask "well, what happens if no one's here? I mean if it's 3:00 in the morning, no one's gonna know if he just sits down, right?" The guard who was answering looked straight at me and said "well, he'd know." Keep in mind - this is literally one of the most prestigious assignments a soldier can have - to do what is expected when no one will ever know if you actually just wimped out. Instill this in your kids. Just because you don't get caught or noticed doesn't mean that you shouldn't do the right thing. Kids need to do the right thing without the expectation of a reward - but rather because they would want someone to do it for them. Call it Karma, call it the Golden Rule, call it Sweet Lord Baby Jesus teaching. Just teach them to do the RIGHT thing, even when no one's looking.
That's all I got for now. Any others, I'd love to hear them. And I have to say - NONE of my friends are these bad parents that I've described. Not a one. They were raised right. And they know better.
And yes, I know that now that I've preached to you, I'm going to end up with the worst-behaved children in history.
Moms and Dads, I give you the solution.
1. If you don't want to put in the hard work, I'd recommend birth control. Really. You have no business having kids if you only want to be a part-time parent. I know, it's the hardest job out there, and you need a break. That's my point. It's hard. Really hard. In that fine little gem of a movie, Waitress, there's a great little blink-and-you'll-miss-it line that a random extra says to Keri Russell's character:
"No one tells you how hard it's going to be."
We need to stop glamorizing it like it's all sugar-frosted-wonderfulness. It's hard work, and a thankless job. And yes, it's physically possible to ensure a child reaches the age of 18 without getting killed or significantly harmed with very little effort. But that's not raising a child. You, and you alone, pick up an obligation to make sure your offspring are functioning and contributing members of society. It's a 24-hour-a-day job, and if you don't want it, seventy-five cents worth of latex can prevent it.
2. Stop teaching your kid that his shit doesn't stink.
If Junior thinks he's perfect, he'll do whatever the hell he wants. When he does something bad or annoying, point it out. He can't fix anything he doesn't know is broken.
3. Teach your child that they do not have the right to treat others as if they are below them.
I can not begin to describe how irate I get when I see a parent treating a waitress or barista like they are the scum of the earth. You have no idea how hard they work, and many of them are single parents who are actually doing a better job than you. If you are financially well off, do yourself a favor - don't let your kid know. Do they want name-brand clothes? Make them work for them. Teach your child to say "please" and "thank you". To EVERYONE. I'm talking toll-booth attendants, policemen, waitresses, everyone. No please or thank you? Sorry, no treat.
4. Model the behavior you want to see.
When you get done being a brat with the barista, what do you think you just taught your kid? When you threw a fit over the done-ness of a steak, you have modeled BAD MANNERS to your child. If you want your child to pick up his room, show him that you're picking up the mess you made in the kitchen when you made yourself a sandwich. But hey, if you want your kid to be a little shit, then by all means, be a big shit. The first way kids learn is through mimicry, and they get all the material they need from you.
5. Do not stoop down to their level.
I see this every goddamn day. Kid wants candy. Mom says no. Kid screams. Mom screams back. Kid throws punches. Mom spanks kid. Congratulations, lady. You've just taught the kid how to control the situation and get Mom cranky in a heartbeat. Oh, and by the way, he just took the candy and sat down and ate it while you're paying for your Valium refill. You taught him to steal as well. Your child's emotional growth is now stunted at two. Better call Juvie and reserve him a spot.
6. Give your child limits and use the word NO as often as necessary.
One of the greatest lessons my mom ever taught me when baby-sitting is a simple twist of what I was saying. When you say "You better get over here, I am COUNTING"...do not say "One...Two...Three..." Instead, say it like this: "Five..four...three..." Yep, go backwards. Kid KNOWS that One is the end. Going up gives him unlimited time to go on continuing whatever he's doing. And as for NO...since when did it become a DFACS case to say "NO" to your kid? I don't care if you have the money for the candy. Kid doesn't need it. Same thing for every toy known to man. Your child will not hate you in ten years because you didn't give him his very own plasma television or a snickers bar. If he does, well, you've got problems in other departments.
7. Teach your child that not everyone thinks they're as cute as you do - and not everyone wants them around.
If you MUST bring your child into a place where there's nothing to do for a child his or her age, (like I don't know...a coffee house), make sure they know - beforehand - that not everyone wants to play Disney on every computer with them. It will translate into later in life, when they realize that not everyone wants a flock of teenagers hanging out in their parking lot. I used to call in sick on that horrible "take your brat to work" day...because every parent had their kid in our office. It was boring enough for me - I can't imagine what it would be like for a kid. So what did the kids do when the copier wasn't fun anymore? They went off to find who might be fun. They thought it would be me. These kids just came to my workspace to hang out. Go through my drawers. Eat my snacks. Sniff my whiteout. Whatever. Might have been okay, but I had work to do. I detested this day because the parents who brought kids in inevitably said "what? they're just kids!" to anyone who remotely complained. If I had to do it one more year, I was going to go sit in whatever kid's 5th grade class for the day, I'd get way more work done that way.
8. Teach them the lessons in little situations and you'll be able to relate the lesson in a bigger situation. Every day at the park, I see kids get in fights with each other and with their parents. Most of the time, I see these moms (usually pushing $900 strollers while on cell phones) just pull the kids off each other (or themselves) and say "stop it." Great, jerk. You're just going from the fire to the fryer. My friend Meghan recently said that her 2 1/2 year-old had hit her, so she sat down and calmly told her the real reason why it hurts to hit someone, because it hurts on the inside too. 2-year-olds want to smack people sometimes. It happens. But by taking the time to sit down and explain in that little situation "why we don't hit people," Meghan effectively warded off her daughter ending up on some girlfight YouTube video down the road and having to teach her daughter how to beg leniency from a judge. Seriously Meghan, good work.
9. Give back. Make your kid do the same.
I'm conservative in thought, but one of the best books I've read in a long time was Bill Clinton's surprisingly politics-free Giving. There are a lot of people and organizations out there who would greatly benefit from your time, money and effort. When children learn how good it feels to help someone, it improves their character. It teaches them to value what they have, and it teaches them to be better toward their fellow citizens. Make your kids give a portion of their allowance to the charity of their choice - give them a HUGE finance lesson by going on any one of the microfinance sites and show them how just lending their money to someone can help them ten-fold. Take a day to volunteer with your child, or take a walk with a trash bag to pick up litter. I assure you, you will never forget the experience, and more importantly, your child will not either. He or she that they DO have an impact - what kind of impact they have is up to them.
10. Emphasize that words hurt just as bad as sticks and stones.
Ever see Mean Girls? It's real. And it's learned. Hear of that kid who killed herself because of taunting by a group of kids over myspace? What broke my heart so much about that story is that the whole damn thing was started by one of the mean girl's MOTHER. Somebody hold that stupid witch down and tie her tubes, now. People like her need to get OUT of the gene pool.
11. Don't let them be mean to each other.
I was never more proud of my younger brother than when I heard that he stood up to the kids on his soccer team when they picked on a player who was an easy target. Even the kid who was picked on said "it's okay" and brushed their bullying off, but my brother stood up because it was NOT okay - those kids tipped the poor kid over in a portable toilet. He could have died - if not from the impact, certainly from any number of bacterial infections. Not only that, the company that owned the toilet is in an honest, albeit gross, business. The owner of that company suffered. Some of those kids didn't know better, but I hope they learned. Edmund Burke once said "All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." If you are allowing your kid to do something that hurts someone - be it physically, emotionally or financially - you are a jerk. Your kids look to you to tell them what is right or wrong. It is your duty to instruct them. I love the idea that we can hold parents personally and financially liable for the actions of their children for this very reason.
12. Punishment WORKS.
I'll tell you what - I got spanked, and I will not hesitate to spank mine when it will be effective. I don't remember one ounce of physical pain, but man - I remember the fact that I was punished and that my mom was coming after me. If it's "time out" that you use, use it and make it work. I've even overheard parents saying that they don't want to ground their kids because they "wanted their kids to enjoy childhood." No shit, they'll enjoy childhood if they're allowed to do everything short of murder without fear of retribution. Congratulations, asshole. You've effectively proved that an asshole can raise a kid to be an asshole.
13. Only threaten what you're willing to follow through on - and stick to it.
I was in the Emergency Room last year waiting for a bajillion hours and was stuck next to a woman with her four-year-old BRAT. He continuously threw his stupid little football at everyone - sick people, people with broken bones, and people who had no desire to be in his warpath - and his mom kept saying "give me that ball, it's going in the trash if you do that one more time." Kid kept doing it. Why? Because Mom never threw it in the trash. My mother would have trashed it and forgotten it. You had the chance, and you blew it, you little snot. When the kid gave up on the ball and did something else, the mom kept saying "you better sit down, or I'm gonna get that policeman to take you away. He's mean." That's another story - NEVER EVER teach your child that the policeman is anything but your friend and someone who will help them. But the monster knew his mom wasn't going to follow through on punishment - so he looked right at her and told her to shut up. Smart kid, dumb mom.
14. Don't set them up to fail.
What in the WORLD are people thinking when they bring their kids to a place that they know these kids have zero chance of behaving? You know exactly how long your kids can behave. Good parents will take a risk with good planning - yes, with bribes - "if you are good, we will go for ice cream." Bad parents? They bring their kids to nice restaurants where the food takes forever. Then they're shocked and just ignore it when their kid acts up. When I worked coat check for extra money in graduate school, I seriously had more than one customer ask if they could check their kid. No, really. When I said no, they usually asked the valet. Don't ask your kids to behave in a place where you know it's almost physically impossible for them to do so. Hell, I'm 28 and I can't sit still that long sometimes. Anticipate their attention span and plan around it.
15. Do not expect any special privileges because you are a parent.
So you've kept a kid alive longer than I can keep a plant alive - what, you want a damn gold star or something? Congratu-fucking-lations. While I know its hard, the "I'm a single mom" excuse or "I have a kid in tow" excuse only goes so far with me when what we're talking about has nothing to do with children. I'm not kidding, I was sitting outside yesterday and saw a mom talking to the metermaid about how she was a single mom and therefore shouldn't get a parking ticket. If you're too cheap to put a quarter in the meter, don't drive the brood into the city, lady. The fact that you have two kids and zero husband has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you were too stupid to know when your meter had run out.
16. Teach them to do the right and honorable thing - even when they're the only one who knows.
One of the reasons I respect the military so much is that they consider integrity to be the most essential character trait they possess. If you are ever in Washington, DC, take your kids to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. While the Tomb represents the fact that we honor the soldiers who paid the ultimate sacrifice for us - while asking no recognition - one of the most moving parts is the process of the "walking the line" that the guards do - a particular repetition that is done over and over, 24 hours a day, in all weather, 365 days a year, even on Christmas. While one guard walks the line (in a long, multi-hour repetitive shift), another will occasionally talk with the visitors. Of course, when I went (I was about 12), I HAD to ask "well, what happens if no one's here? I mean if it's 3:00 in the morning, no one's gonna know if he just sits down, right?" The guard who was answering looked straight at me and said "well, he'd know." Keep in mind - this is literally one of the most prestigious assignments a soldier can have - to do what is expected when no one will ever know if you actually just wimped out. Instill this in your kids. Just because you don't get caught or noticed doesn't mean that you shouldn't do the right thing. Kids need to do the right thing without the expectation of a reward - but rather because they would want someone to do it for them. Call it Karma, call it the Golden Rule, call it Sweet Lord Baby Jesus teaching. Just teach them to do the RIGHT thing, even when no one's looking.
That's all I got for now. Any others, I'd love to hear them. And I have to say - NONE of my friends are these bad parents that I've described. Not a one. They were raised right. And they know better.
And yes, I know that now that I've preached to you, I'm going to end up with the worst-behaved children in history.
Get ready for unsolicited parenting advice.
I'm always hesitant to dole out advice on situations to which I have little to no experience.
That being said, I'm gonna do it anyway. It's just gone too far. This is a two-parter. Here's the story - I'll give you the advice next.
Why do I get to dole out unsolicited parenting advice?
I'm owed.
Scene: the coffee house. I live within a 6 block radius of no less than seven coffee shops. I love them, I can people-watch, get work done, get a fix of caffeine, relax and maybe even meet new people. But occasionally, strike that, WAY too often, it becomes a place where bad parents just CONGREGATE. With children in tow.
I've done what I can do. I've shot dirty looks - looks of which children ignore, and moms pretend not to even see. I've packed up my stuff and left. I've tried other coffee shops - but nothing is sacred. I've even complained to staff - who really just can't do anything. Most of the time, they actually would love to be able to do something, but you have to understand something. For some reason, there are a lot of parents out there who think that they get a free pass on bad behavior - be it their own or of their offspring - just because they happened to have shit out a few kids.
I point to my experience this past November.
I was trying to get my business running and off the ground. Having just moved into my current place, Comcast was dragging their feet about setting up internet service. So I went to a coffee shop in the Bella Vista area that had free WiFi service.
In comes Mom One with Baby.
In comes a polo-shirt clad ball of energy, about five years old and in need of attention.
In comes another.
And another.
Finally, in comes two more moms, toting two more strollers. Are there really babies in there or are they just really large purses? I don't know.
Polo Thing One jumps out and grabs a freshly-baked muffin from the plate on the counter. Mom says no and PUTS IT BACK. It's an unwrapped item. Guess I'm not getting a muffin. Thing One and Two have zero volume control. Oh wait, they do. They cry louder.
Mom Two asks if they sell juice. No, they don't. All three moms look at the barista like he has suggested that their children go to the nursery staffed by Susan Smith or some other baby-killer. After treating the barista like he's only paid to take rich women's crap, they get their coffee drinks with names longer than most complex chemical compounds. The children, who have been running amok throughout the tiny coffee house, cry because they're...I don't know...probably just to hear themselves cry. The moms have no desire to pay any attention to any of the six children that are climbing the walls. The moms sit down to "chat". By "chat", I mean that they can not possibly keep a conversation in a formerly peaceful place at a decibel level that does not exceed jet-engine sounds.
The children are everywhere.
One comes up to me, and looking over my shoulder, proceeds to breathe his germs all over me.
"Can I play Disney on the computer?"
"What?? I'm working, kid. GO AWAY."
No, I didn't really say that. I just sat there and finally said "I'm sorry, I don't have Disney on my computer."
"Yes you do, you have our computer."
I realize that children see that little Apple on my iBook and think that my computer is their computer because there's one like it at home. But since my iBook is three years old and has been used only two days before by my roommate and myself when we decided to figure out exactly what that whole "2 Girls 1 Cup" internet sensation was about, I was in no mood to expose young minds to the most disturbing stuff even I have ever seen. I politely looked up for their mothers.
"Ma'am? Is he yours?"
"TRISTAN. Get over here and sit down, that lady doesn't want you over there."
Thanks for making me look like the Evil Witch, lady. But I don't care. Tristan is like jumping on my table by now. He goes over to his mom, sits down to have one sip of his Jolt Cola (I kid you not) and proceeds to jump up and all over someone else. They leave me alone for a few minutes. Then, at the door to the shop, a woman in a wheelchair tries to enter. Since three strollers block her access, I, being a Good Samaritan, get up to help her. This coffee shop is all of the size of a walk-in closet. There's not space for the strollers and the wheelchair. It's a nice, warm Autumn day. Since old Philadelphia buildings and streets are - I don't know, NOT handicapped accessible - I figured it's what we owe as good citizens to help them out. I politely asked the moms if they would mind finding another space for the strollers. There's a big sidewalk outside, and a spot perfectly suited to corral them.
And then they look at me like I have three heads.
Mom two: "Those are BUGABOO FROG strollers, which cost $900. Someone's going to STEAL them in THIS neighborhood."
Oh no you dih-en.
Soapbox out, Molly up.
"Well, that's a pretty expensive...stroller...but I'm only asking because it's obvious that them plus this woman's chair are not going to fit in here. It's a very narrow space and she has every right to patronize this store. I don't know if you know this, but if you're concerned about the security, any bicycle shop will happily sell you a LOCK to protect it should you choose to leave it in a more convenient spot. And by they way, I live and work in this neighborhood. No one's ever stolen anything from me in THIS neighborhood. And though I'm straight, it's actually the Gayborhood, which, despite having a few diverse residents, actually has the lowest crime rate in Philadelphia County. If you don't want to move them, then fine. But should you care to tear yourself away from your conversation and be considerate, I'm sure you might get a little good Karma coming your way."
Three snaps in a Z for-ma-tion.
Mom two folds the strollers and puts them in the stairwell. We mighta had to had the same conversation should anyone have to go up or down the stairs, but whatever.
The woman in the wheelchair thanks me (she's still laughing, as is the barista) and gets her cup of coffee and a bagel. I go back to work. Moms go back to loud conversing. The kids have never stopped running around. I deal. I get up to ask the barista for a pen. And then the worst that could happen...yep, it happens.
Tristan jumps out of nowhere into my seat and onto my computer. I catch it out of the corner of my eye - my coffee cup, suddenly caught by the coloring book in his hand. I leap forward to catch something - anything - from the inevitable. But no.
Coffee. All over the laptop. A two-thousand dollar computer, ruined.
Yes, I picked him up by the arm and put him down AWAY from my computer. I needed to frantically disassemble all that I could to get the coffee out of the computer. Yes, he screams. Obviously the stranger-danger lessons kicked in JUST then. I don't know if he got coffee spilled on him, and frankly, I do not care. But MOM does.
"WHY are you touching MY CHILD? He was JUST TRYING TO PLAY and BE NICE. You shouldn't have left a HOT COFFEE where it could BURN SOMEONE"
Screw the soapbox, I'm on a tirade, and tears are already coming out - I had no money to replace this computer.
"THIS IS A COFFEEHOUSE. They serve COFFEE here, and we Americans like our coffee HOT. You need to WATCH your damn children, HE just RUINED my ONLY computer."
Barista quickly helps me as best he can, even giving me tools to minimize the damage. But it's done. The iBook never worked again, even after a hard-drive replacement.
Now, you may ask, wouldn't the mom offer to pay for it? Um, I would. Legally, she has to. But she was outta that place, kids in tow, faster than...oh I don't know, some stupid bitch who realized that her kid had done some serious damage.
So I figure I'm allowed to give some unsolicited advice.
Stay tuned.
That being said, I'm gonna do it anyway. It's just gone too far. This is a two-parter. Here's the story - I'll give you the advice next.
Why do I get to dole out unsolicited parenting advice?
I'm owed.
Scene: the coffee house. I live within a 6 block radius of no less than seven coffee shops. I love them, I can people-watch, get work done, get a fix of caffeine, relax and maybe even meet new people. But occasionally, strike that, WAY too often, it becomes a place where bad parents just CONGREGATE. With children in tow.
I've done what I can do. I've shot dirty looks - looks of which children ignore, and moms pretend not to even see. I've packed up my stuff and left. I've tried other coffee shops - but nothing is sacred. I've even complained to staff - who really just can't do anything. Most of the time, they actually would love to be able to do something, but you have to understand something. For some reason, there are a lot of parents out there who think that they get a free pass on bad behavior - be it their own or of their offspring - just because they happened to have shit out a few kids.
I point to my experience this past November.
I was trying to get my business running and off the ground. Having just moved into my current place, Comcast was dragging their feet about setting up internet service. So I went to a coffee shop in the Bella Vista area that had free WiFi service.
In comes Mom One with Baby.
In comes a polo-shirt clad ball of energy, about five years old and in need of attention.
In comes another.
And another.
Finally, in comes two more moms, toting two more strollers. Are there really babies in there or are they just really large purses? I don't know.
Polo Thing One jumps out and grabs a freshly-baked muffin from the plate on the counter. Mom says no and PUTS IT BACK. It's an unwrapped item. Guess I'm not getting a muffin. Thing One and Two have zero volume control. Oh wait, they do. They cry louder.
Mom Two asks if they sell juice. No, they don't. All three moms look at the barista like he has suggested that their children go to the nursery staffed by Susan Smith or some other baby-killer. After treating the barista like he's only paid to take rich women's crap, they get their coffee drinks with names longer than most complex chemical compounds. The children, who have been running amok throughout the tiny coffee house, cry because they're...I don't know...probably just to hear themselves cry. The moms have no desire to pay any attention to any of the six children that are climbing the walls. The moms sit down to "chat". By "chat", I mean that they can not possibly keep a conversation in a formerly peaceful place at a decibel level that does not exceed jet-engine sounds.
The children are everywhere.
One comes up to me, and looking over my shoulder, proceeds to breathe his germs all over me.
"Can I play Disney on the computer?"
"What?? I'm working, kid. GO AWAY."
No, I didn't really say that. I just sat there and finally said "I'm sorry, I don't have Disney on my computer."
"Yes you do, you have our computer."
I realize that children see that little Apple on my iBook and think that my computer is their computer because there's one like it at home. But since my iBook is three years old and has been used only two days before by my roommate and myself when we decided to figure out exactly what that whole "2 Girls 1 Cup" internet sensation was about, I was in no mood to expose young minds to the most disturbing stuff even I have ever seen. I politely looked up for their mothers.
"Ma'am? Is he yours?"
"TRISTAN. Get over here and sit down, that lady doesn't want you over there."
Thanks for making me look like the Evil Witch, lady. But I don't care. Tristan is like jumping on my table by now. He goes over to his mom, sits down to have one sip of his Jolt Cola (I kid you not) and proceeds to jump up and all over someone else. They leave me alone for a few minutes. Then, at the door to the shop, a woman in a wheelchair tries to enter. Since three strollers block her access, I, being a Good Samaritan, get up to help her. This coffee shop is all of the size of a walk-in closet. There's not space for the strollers and the wheelchair. It's a nice, warm Autumn day. Since old Philadelphia buildings and streets are - I don't know, NOT handicapped accessible - I figured it's what we owe as good citizens to help them out. I politely asked the moms if they would mind finding another space for the strollers. There's a big sidewalk outside, and a spot perfectly suited to corral them.
And then they look at me like I have three heads.
Mom two: "Those are BUGABOO FROG strollers, which cost $900. Someone's going to STEAL them in THIS neighborhood."
Oh no you dih-en.
Soapbox out, Molly up.
"Well, that's a pretty expensive...stroller...but I'm only asking because it's obvious that them plus this woman's chair are not going to fit in here. It's a very narrow space and she has every right to patronize this store. I don't know if you know this, but if you're concerned about the security, any bicycle shop will happily sell you a LOCK to protect it should you choose to leave it in a more convenient spot. And by they way, I live and work in this neighborhood. No one's ever stolen anything from me in THIS neighborhood. And though I'm straight, it's actually the Gayborhood, which, despite having a few diverse residents, actually has the lowest crime rate in Philadelphia County. If you don't want to move them, then fine. But should you care to tear yourself away from your conversation and be considerate, I'm sure you might get a little good Karma coming your way."
Three snaps in a Z for-ma-tion.
Mom two folds the strollers and puts them in the stairwell. We mighta had to had the same conversation should anyone have to go up or down the stairs, but whatever.
The woman in the wheelchair thanks me (she's still laughing, as is the barista) and gets her cup of coffee and a bagel. I go back to work. Moms go back to loud conversing. The kids have never stopped running around. I deal. I get up to ask the barista for a pen. And then the worst that could happen...yep, it happens.
Tristan jumps out of nowhere into my seat and onto my computer. I catch it out of the corner of my eye - my coffee cup, suddenly caught by the coloring book in his hand. I leap forward to catch something - anything - from the inevitable. But no.
Coffee. All over the laptop. A two-thousand dollar computer, ruined.
Yes, I picked him up by the arm and put him down AWAY from my computer. I needed to frantically disassemble all that I could to get the coffee out of the computer. Yes, he screams. Obviously the stranger-danger lessons kicked in JUST then. I don't know if he got coffee spilled on him, and frankly, I do not care. But MOM does.
"WHY are you touching MY CHILD? He was JUST TRYING TO PLAY and BE NICE. You shouldn't have left a HOT COFFEE where it could BURN SOMEONE"
Screw the soapbox, I'm on a tirade, and tears are already coming out - I had no money to replace this computer.
"THIS IS A COFFEEHOUSE. They serve COFFEE here, and we Americans like our coffee HOT. You need to WATCH your damn children, HE just RUINED my ONLY computer."
Barista quickly helps me as best he can, even giving me tools to minimize the damage. But it's done. The iBook never worked again, even after a hard-drive replacement.
Now, you may ask, wouldn't the mom offer to pay for it? Um, I would. Legally, she has to. But she was outta that place, kids in tow, faster than...oh I don't know, some stupid bitch who realized that her kid had done some serious damage.
So I figure I'm allowed to give some unsolicited advice.
Stay tuned.
Landscapes - Round One
Banfi Vineyards18x24
Oil on Canvas
2007
-This was done loosely based on a view of the vineyards at Castello Banfi, outside Montalcino, Italy. I LOVED this place - ate the best meal I've ever eaten in my whole life, "tasted" a lot of wine (read as: got really drunk) and wandered the grounds of a Tuscan Castle that's been making wine in some form or another since Roman times. If you're ever considering a trip, I highly recommend just renting a car and driving through the region - you'll be tempted to throw the corporate life away.
The Boats24x36
Oil on Canvas
2007
Swann Collection (Private)
-Cinque Terre, a region on the northwest coast of Italy, is such a vibrant place. There's no black, white, or gray there - everything has these bright, vivid colors. CT is made up of five tiny fishing villages, connected by a rickety old rail system and a beautiful hiking trail owned and maintained by Italy's National Parks. I was tempted to throw my shoes over the telephone wire and buy a boat and become a fisherman. I can still smell it every time I see this painting - when the fishermen came in around 4:30, the entire town of Vernazza would smell of freshly baked focaccia bread that was coming out of every baker's oven in town. I have a theory that if we pumped that smell through every city in the US, we'd see crime rates plummet. You really can't be angry when you're smelling fresh bread.
Tulips20x24
Mixed Media & Acrylic on Canvas
2008
For Sale
-I went to the Philadelphia Museum of Art and started looking at Cezanne and Kadinsky - their work, plus a desire to get into acrylics and a big old case of Spring Fever equals semi-abstract and vivid flowers. I really enjoyed this one.
Levi24x36
Oil on Canvas
2006
Collection of the Artist
-This was for sale for a long time, but the only piece with which I really ever had any attachment. It was done from a photo that was snapped of a guy I was dating at the time, and I intentionally left the face blank because it seemed to really fit the subject and composition. He had gone fishing with a friend and it's probably the most biographical thing I've ever seen of him - the cutoff army fatigues (they made it through 2 tours of duty, they're probably better worn in than any comfy jeans I've ever owned), the cowboy hat and especially the landscape...it kind of just screams of the area where I grew up. Still wrestling over whether to sell it - I've had a couple offers that ended up falling through, sometimes I think I'm not supposed to sell it, given the number of times a sale has been attempted.
Back Bay WindowsOil on Canvas
2008
24x36
For Sale
-I lived off Commonwealth Avenue in Boston for a couple years. After living in Atlanta, where everything was so brand-new, it's a minor shock to walk down these streets with homes that look the same as when some of the Founding Fathers lived there. I found the architecture on Comm Ave (as Bostonians call it) to be so synonymous with the Brahmin that live there - old, stately, classically elegant, and you always kind of wonder what's in there. I struggled with the perspective on this for a long time before finally just deciding to go a little nuts with it. The colors may not show up well, but it's got a lot of expression in it and used some techniques that I was a little unsure of until I really got going.
Mykonos #2Oil on Canvas
2007
24x36
Hubbard Collection (private)
-I went to Greece during the Olympics of 2004. If you've never seen Greece, I can not begin to explain how incredible it is. They hold onto their history, culture and identity like no other people, and have this innate "I don't care what's new, this has worked for thousands of years" ideology. The island of Mykonos, set right in the middle of the Greek Isles, is this beautiful little gem in the bluest water I've ever seen in my whole life. One of the greatest things about Mykonos is that there's these tiny churches all over the island - literally over 12,000 of them, there are more churches than residents. I loved painting the whites of it - mainly because I used relatively little actual white pigments - when the sun goes down, suddenly the buildings reflect all kinds of colors you never knew were there. I saved some of the mixed paint from this as long as I could - I fell in love with the pale yellow and the odd blue of the sky.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
I'm still working.
I'm posting more tomorrow (I had to get some work done with that whole art career thing tonight) but I'll post my needs-some-editing-down blog tomorrow when I'm finished with it.
It was a beautiful day.
To my editor: suck it.
It WAS really nice, so I had to say that it was a beautiful day. And I'm posting a big old RANT tomorrow...its about people who bitch about not being able to change a certain thing about themselves and then resort to every excuse in the book, including saying that people like me who actually worked their ass off to change that part of themselves "just have it easier".
Here's a rant - ever notice how these days, you can rarely have an unseasonably warm day without some sort of jackass commenting about how it's due to Global Warming?
It makes me want to go out to Delaware, find my SUV and drive it around for a while, doing stupid errands that I could have done in half the time on foot. Then I want to run around and leave every light on in my house.
It's okay, though. I'm greener than that.
It was a beautiful day.
To my editor: suck it.
It WAS really nice, so I had to say that it was a beautiful day. And I'm posting a big old RANT tomorrow...its about people who bitch about not being able to change a certain thing about themselves and then resort to every excuse in the book, including saying that people like me who actually worked their ass off to change that part of themselves "just have it easier".
Here's a rant - ever notice how these days, you can rarely have an unseasonably warm day without some sort of jackass commenting about how it's due to Global Warming?
It makes me want to go out to Delaware, find my SUV and drive it around for a while, doing stupid errands that I could have done in half the time on foot. Then I want to run around and leave every light on in my house.
It's okay, though. I'm greener than that.
Writing feedback - from the real deal. Yikes.
Some people know this already, but one of the biggest reasons I'm writing this blog is because I'm working with an editor/coach who works with freelance writers to get their portfolios and writing to a publish-able level. The theory is that the internet provides publishing houses with a clearer view of your own internal editing skills, your own self-marketing skills and an audience's reaction to your writing. It helps me to strengthen my work and pimp myself out since I can command a better deal after I've already established an audience and it all but eliminates the need for things like focus groups and primary marketing research - yes, I'm helping to render the skills taught in my advertising major obsolete.
My e-meeting today was feedback on what I've written on here and on my other (paying) blog writing. While it was very complimentary and "I'm so relieved that I don't need to send you to a grammar improvement seminar" (I kept thinking of the National Grammar Rodeo in Canada, for all you Simpsons fans out there), he did give me this task to work on. And it's a doozie.
"Molly, you're good at telling a story, but you need to push the envelope, because how you feel about stuff isn't coming across other than 'i love this or that'. The mommyblogs are great at writing about shit they love and butterflies and what happened last night on Life According to Jim. People aren't looking for that. I need you to put some grit in, take a stand and talk about stuff that you're not fucking happy as a clam about. Gas is $4 a gallon, people want to hear a rant and rave every now and then to know they're not alone. Stir some shit up, for crying out loud. Even if they hate what you say, they're still reading it."
And that's a quote. Yes, he said I can put that in. I didn't realize I was so fluffy, but fine. I can take a stand. After I called him to talk some of the points out, I did learn some better direction. I was kind of afraid of offending people inadvertently - that is, by them taking it out of context and not getting what I was REALLY saying. So I avoided the whole thing instead. Solution: "well then, make your writing say what you want to say and avoid the miscommunication, not the actual communication."
So. More rants, less raves. If you read my next post and are offended, I'm sorry. It's just my opinion, backed up with factual observations. That being said, feel free to blast me with "Molly, you're full of it!"
I promise not to cry.
***Edit- oh gosh, I got ten emails - he wasn't talking about anyone who reads or is connected with my stuff with the mommyblog comment! He was talking about a couple blogs ("mommyblogs" is a term they use, even if they don't have kids) in particular that are kind of famous out there who are loaded full of saccharine and stuff I'll pick on later. See? I am not coming across how I want. For the record, I love hearing about babies that I know of, or about my friends' families. And yes, he's a little harsh - he's a New Yorker. He's just trying to pull stuff out of me that's already there, just having a hard time occasionally coming out. It was a hard lesson to learn once that if you're writing for people who don't know you, it's a lot harder to keep them interested - y'all who know me from the 'burg and from college and thereafter know me and therefore know what I'm getting at when I say something, but Jane or Joe Schmoe doesn't, so I have to deliver it, dammit!***
My e-meeting today was feedback on what I've written on here and on my other (paying) blog writing. While it was very complimentary and "I'm so relieved that I don't need to send you to a grammar improvement seminar" (I kept thinking of the National Grammar Rodeo in Canada, for all you Simpsons fans out there), he did give me this task to work on. And it's a doozie.
"Molly, you're good at telling a story, but you need to push the envelope, because how you feel about stuff isn't coming across other than 'i love this or that'. The mommyblogs are great at writing about shit they love and butterflies and what happened last night on Life According to Jim. People aren't looking for that. I need you to put some grit in, take a stand and talk about stuff that you're not fucking happy as a clam about. Gas is $4 a gallon, people want to hear a rant and rave every now and then to know they're not alone. Stir some shit up, for crying out loud. Even if they hate what you say, they're still reading it."
And that's a quote. Yes, he said I can put that in. I didn't realize I was so fluffy, but fine. I can take a stand. After I called him to talk some of the points out, I did learn some better direction. I was kind of afraid of offending people inadvertently - that is, by them taking it out of context and not getting what I was REALLY saying. So I avoided the whole thing instead. Solution: "well then, make your writing say what you want to say and avoid the miscommunication, not the actual communication."
So. More rants, less raves. If you read my next post and are offended, I'm sorry. It's just my opinion, backed up with factual observations. That being said, feel free to blast me with "Molly, you're full of it!"
I promise not to cry.
***Edit- oh gosh, I got ten emails - he wasn't talking about anyone who reads or is connected with my stuff with the mommyblog comment! He was talking about a couple blogs ("mommyblogs" is a term they use, even if they don't have kids) in particular that are kind of famous out there who are loaded full of saccharine and stuff I'll pick on later. See? I am not coming across how I want. For the record, I love hearing about babies that I know of, or about my friends' families. And yes, he's a little harsh - he's a New Yorker. He's just trying to pull stuff out of me that's already there, just having a hard time occasionally coming out. It was a hard lesson to learn once that if you're writing for people who don't know you, it's a lot harder to keep them interested - y'all who know me from the 'burg and from college and thereafter know me and therefore know what I'm getting at when I say something, but Jane or Joe Schmoe doesn't, so I have to deliver it, dammit!***
Quote of the day...
"I think I'm drunk, Jack!"
"Well, it's business drunk. It's like rich drunk, either way, you're allowed to drive."
-30 Rock
"Well, it's business drunk. It's like rich drunk, either way, you're allowed to drive."
-30 Rock
Today's sign that the apocalypse is upon single women
That's me. I apologize for the I-look-like-death appearance, but I had just gotten back from running. Yes, that's a big ole milkshake-type drink from Starbucks in my left hand, thereby negating whatever I had done to healthify myself by going running.
I wouldn't ever feature myself in this state, but you're at the scene, witnessing my little smirk, courtesy of iSight's built-in camera. I assure you, it may look like a smile, but it's not. It's half-grimace, half-condescending smirk. If you saw it full-on, you'd definitely think I'm bitchy. But whatever.
Let me set the stage. Starbucks. 9th and South. Getting some work done. People-watching. Just now, I had not one, not two, but three young gentlemen pull up and ask me to come converse with them. That's the tame way of putting it.
Actually, it was this:
Enter Minivan. K-Fed One is driving. Wife beater tank. Big-ass silver chain. Yankees fan. I know this because his Yankees hat is cocked to the side in that way that makes me want to smack the ever-living crap out of him, sending the hat flying off into the hereafter. His seat in said minivan is so far back and so low, it looks more like a small bed. K-Fed Two is riding shotgun, and has a slightly different, yet equally obnoxious outfit on. I can’t see their pants, but I feel confident in the fact that they’re nowhere near their natural waist. K-Fed Three, who I’m guessing is the tagalong of the group, is technically riding in the backseat, but is sort of perched in between the two bucket seats in this hot little whip, which I’m guessing is a 1999 Dodge Caravan. All three model citizen teenagers are sporting haircuts that confirm the fact that many hairdressers in certain suburbs make a killing off of the “Growing Up Gotti” haircut.
Yes folks, this van has Jersey plates.
The van’s stopped at the stoplight at 9th and South, which seems to take for-EVER to change. While I’m typing away, I suddenly have that little stomach-turning feeling that EVERY female who has ever walked by a construction site knows all too well – the eyes burning into your I’m-not-looking-anywhere-near-you side of the head.
And then…
“HEY ARMY”
“HEY ARMY GIRL. COME OVA HERE SO I CAN HOLLA AT YOU”
I’m wearing a gray Army PT shirt, so yes, I’m fully aware who they’re serenading. I intently pretend to be both completely engrossed in my computer and deaf.
The cross street light is, of course, not turning yellow in the immediate future, which would set off a course of events that might prompt the soccer-caravan-turned-thugmobile to move further down South Street.
“HEY BITCH WHY YOU SO SNOBBY? WE JUST TRYIN’ TO HOLLA ATCHOU!”
Because I don’t want to divert my attention and thereby risk some other thug in the unseen periphery stealing my very precious and unreplaceable computer, I keep on ignoring them.
This light has to be broken.
And then, of all things…two girls who have undoubtedly skipped school to come to the city meander by on the other side of the street…and I kid you not…
They holler at the Federline Trio themselves. I thought for a split-second that the two groups might actually know each other, but no. The thugmobile PULLS OVER to my side and they all engage in a flirting session that’s still going on as I type this. They’ve already traded Nextel chirps or whatever.
I’m shocked at a few things here.
First. REALLY – does this strategy of shouting at complete strangers at Starbucks from your minivan WORK? Do men actually succeed in picking up women in this city with this tactic? I know I’ve just ripped on them, but I’d like to know why I’m the bitch – that is, if most other women these days are romanced by this kind of pickup. I know a Southerner like me is somewhat of a fish out of water in these parts, but really, I think we’ve advanced a little past this, which I’d consider only slightly above clubbing a woman over the head and bringing her back to the cave.
Secondly, how did this look and attitude come about? You’re what, sixteen years old? My mom raised four boys and not ONE of them wore those kinds of clothes, talked like that or emulated virtual wastes of oxygen like thugs and former dancers who succeeded only by knocking up former pop stars. Do parents in New Jersey actually put their foot down or say – God FORBID – NO to their child when they decide they want to integrate this look into their daily life? I'm all for self-expression, but this is...I don't know.
Finally, directed at the girls who look like they robbed a Hollister store and own stock in LA Looks Hair Gel - while I thanked my lucky stars that they interrupted the gaze of the Gotti Trio in my direction, I wonder - is this what the girls their age are going for? And worse, are they literally stopping traffic to chase these kinds of guys down on a regular basis? Is this specific to the next generation, or is this some sort of sick omen that dating has come to the demand that I allow potential mates (ugh...that just sent chills down my spine, in a very literal sense) to "holla" at me when they use the B-word?
No wonder I haven't had a date in forever.
You can't do this when you work for the Man...
I'm going to post another couple of things later today that I've been working on lately, but I need to go running right now to take advantage of this glorious day and get myself in shape. I spent most of it drawing, going through sketchbooks to plan future work and laying out on my deck trying to get my pale self a tan.
That's part of the job that I love - I worked, all day - but I worked in a bikini. Remember when you were in school and the teacher would occasionally take class outside? Yeah, I get to do that. Whenever I want. Last week, me and my roommate lugged a cooler of beer, an easel and a mini-picnic over to Washington Square and laid out there.
Take that, cubicle.
That's part of the job that I love - I worked, all day - but I worked in a bikini. Remember when you were in school and the teacher would occasionally take class outside? Yeah, I get to do that. Whenever I want. Last week, me and my roommate lugged a cooler of beer, an easel and a mini-picnic over to Washington Square and laid out there.
Take that, cubicle.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
My new favorite place
I've been here before, but I didn't realize the extent of it until today.
The ING Direct Cafe! It's at 17th and Walnut, right in the heart of shopping that I can't afford. I went in for some free WiFi (I write better while outside my house) and got my standard cup of black coffee. Not because I don't LIKE lattes, cappuccino, mochas or whatever, but because plain ole java is usually the cheapest thing on the menu and I can drink it slowly. With an extra shot it was only $1.50.
A BUCK FIFTY!
Why didn't I know about this before? I thought it was just a BANK. Turns out they have an ingenious marketing scheme - there's only a couple of cafes nationwide, but they serve good coffee, below cost, and just give you bright orange ING swag. I got a stress ball and an egg of silly putty and my free WiFi. They even have computers where you can use their internet for FREE. And unlike the library, there's no random bums or perverts hogging the computers.
For the record, I only know of the bums and perverts because my computer broke down in October and I had to go to the Independence Free Library to check email for a while. My purse looked like I owned STOCK in Purell, put it that way.
I have a dormant-but-still-active account with ING Direct, and since they basically gave me coffee, I will give them a shameless plug....it really is a good company. It's based in Wilmington (about 20 minutes from here), and it's like the Google of banking - everyone who works there loves it so much, I'm almost worried for them should they get a company directive to swig down some Kool-Aid. But they DO make it easy to do banking - as long as you're a customer who doesn't demand tons of TLC, they give you plenty of good benefits - higher-interest savings, high-interest checking, no minimum balances on either, and free stress balls and stuff. I love it. When I HAD money, I used to go to ingdirect.com and set up random accounts that would take $5 - $15 out of my main checking account every week or so - kind of making it painless to save. I'll tell you what - it was a helluva lot easier to ease into self-employment that way.
My dirty little secret? I used to name the accounts very odd names. A sampling:
-Mad Cash
-Go to hell, insurance!
-Received for sexual services rendered
-I swear, I'm going to just drive til the money runs out
-Bribes from congressmen
-Down payment on a house, my ass. I'm buying candy and comic books.
The ING Direct Cafe! It's at 17th and Walnut, right in the heart of shopping that I can't afford. I went in for some free WiFi (I write better while outside my house) and got my standard cup of black coffee. Not because I don't LIKE lattes, cappuccino, mochas or whatever, but because plain ole java is usually the cheapest thing on the menu and I can drink it slowly. With an extra shot it was only $1.50. A BUCK FIFTY!
Why didn't I know about this before? I thought it was just a BANK. Turns out they have an ingenious marketing scheme - there's only a couple of cafes nationwide, but they serve good coffee, below cost, and just give you bright orange ING swag. I got a stress ball and an egg of silly putty and my free WiFi. They even have computers where you can use their internet for FREE. And unlike the library, there's no random bums or perverts hogging the computers.
For the record, I only know of the bums and perverts because my computer broke down in October and I had to go to the Independence Free Library to check email for a while. My purse looked like I owned STOCK in Purell, put it that way.
I have a dormant-but-still-active account with ING Direct, and since they basically gave me coffee, I will give them a shameless plug....it really is a good company. It's based in Wilmington (about 20 minutes from here), and it's like the Google of banking - everyone who works there loves it so much, I'm almost worried for them should they get a company directive to swig down some Kool-Aid. But they DO make it easy to do banking - as long as you're a customer who doesn't demand tons of TLC, they give you plenty of good benefits - higher-interest savings, high-interest checking, no minimum balances on either, and free stress balls and stuff. I love it. When I HAD money, I used to go to ingdirect.com and set up random accounts that would take $5 - $15 out of my main checking account every week or so - kind of making it painless to save. I'll tell you what - it was a helluva lot easier to ease into self-employment that way.
My dirty little secret? I used to name the accounts very odd names. A sampling:
-Mad Cash
-Go to hell, insurance!
-Received for sexual services rendered
-I swear, I'm going to just drive til the money runs out
-Bribes from congressmen
-Down payment on a house, my ass. I'm buying candy and comic books.
Attempt at better photography.
I'm not very good at taking pictures. I think it's one of those things where I could be better at it, if only I'd invest some time into it. I'm not knocking photographers at all
- far from it. They're incredible artists who capture beauty through perspectives we either take for granted or never knew existed, handily presenting it in a format that our eyes and brains are conditioned to believe as truth.
My theory: good photographs don't happen because of expensive or fancy equipment, they happen because of patience, direction and knowledge of certain aesthetic rules. While painters can get away with creative license and editing certain elements out of their work, photographers are forced to work with what's present or what they can bring. So I started thinking about composition - how one frames their image and arranges their elements.
In an effort to improve my own work, I set out to take a couple of pictures today on the way home from an errand. I meandered through the streets in my neighborhood, hoping for something to jump out at me. I remembered a piece of advice a photographer had given me - to experiment with different points of view - and I tried getting a very low viewpoint to start.
At the park at the corner of 11th and Pine, I found these:
I have a couple more, but this was probably the best one for my little composition goal. I kind of just liked the way the leaves were catching the light and creating a lot of contrast. Tried to create passage through the image, but I was a little limited - I had to take this through a gap in the iron fencing.
I walked down 11th toward my house, finding one of those little horse-carriage streets. For all you non-Philadelphians - yes, we drive cars down these streets. They're narrow. Try turning left from Kater Street a little past 8th Street - it's how you know if you've made it here. Anyway, I found this cute little area. Not too happy with these.
I had to fiddle with the color in iPhoto here. I'm coming to the conclusion that I don't keep the lens perpendicular to the ground, hence the perspective being a little off in the third image..
The final two are my favorites:
This is a little private courtyard on 11th. I really love how northern cities, particularly Philadelphia and Boston, have these really pretty green spaces in the middle of the oldest parts of the city. Considering the age of these homes - most are at least 100 years old, and a big portion date back to pre-1800 - I wonder how the neighbors have shared these green spaces for so long.
This was kind of a one-shot, couldn't-repeat-it thing. I was standing in the middle of the street, and I got a little startled by the bicycle when it came up behind it. When I took it, it didn't seem to come out at ALL because of the glare of the sun. I took it home and had to fiddle with it to at least make it visible. I might paint this soon, I like what I think I can do with the color, and I really like the old man (a professor? just a businessman going green?) on the bicycle.
He needs a helmet, though.
All in all, it was productive, I suppose. I'm trying to make the rules of composition a little more second-nature - right now, I have to actively think about things like the Golden Ratio, 5:3, etc. I'm pretty good at keeping the rule of thirds, creating a quiet place for the eye, making a value study, etc, but I'd like to translate a little bit of this into actual painting.
- far from it. They're incredible artists who capture beauty through perspectives we either take for granted or never knew existed, handily presenting it in a format that our eyes and brains are conditioned to believe as truth.
My theory: good photographs don't happen because of expensive or fancy equipment, they happen because of patience, direction and knowledge of certain aesthetic rules. While painters can get away with creative license and editing certain elements out of their work, photographers are forced to work with what's present or what they can bring. So I started thinking about composition - how one frames their image and arranges their elements.
In an effort to improve my own work, I set out to take a couple of pictures today on the way home from an errand. I meandered through the streets in my neighborhood, hoping for something to jump out at me. I remembered a piece of advice a photographer had given me - to experiment with different points of view - and I tried getting a very low viewpoint to start.
At the park at the corner of 11th and Pine, I found these:
I have a couple more, but this was probably the best one for my little composition goal. I kind of just liked the way the leaves were catching the light and creating a lot of contrast. Tried to create passage through the image, but I was a little limited - I had to take this through a gap in the iron fencing.
I walked down 11th toward my house, finding one of those little horse-carriage streets. For all you non-Philadelphians - yes, we drive cars down these streets. They're narrow. Try turning left from Kater Street a little past 8th Street - it's how you know if you've made it here. Anyway, I found this cute little area. Not too happy with these.
I had to fiddle with the color in iPhoto here. I'm coming to the conclusion that I don't keep the lens perpendicular to the ground, hence the perspective being a little off in the third image..
The final two are my favorites:
This is a little private courtyard on 11th. I really love how northern cities, particularly Philadelphia and Boston, have these really pretty green spaces in the middle of the oldest parts of the city. Considering the age of these homes - most are at least 100 years old, and a big portion date back to pre-1800 - I wonder how the neighbors have shared these green spaces for so long.
This was kind of a one-shot, couldn't-repeat-it thing. I was standing in the middle of the street, and I got a little startled by the bicycle when it came up behind it. When I took it, it didn't seem to come out at ALL because of the glare of the sun. I took it home and had to fiddle with it to at least make it visible. I might paint this soon, I like what I think I can do with the color, and I really like the old man (a professor? just a businessman going green?) on the bicycle.He needs a helmet, though.
All in all, it was productive, I suppose. I'm trying to make the rules of composition a little more second-nature - right now, I have to actively think about things like the Golden Ratio, 5:3, etc. I'm pretty good at keeping the rule of thirds, creating a quiet place for the eye, making a value study, etc, but I'd like to translate a little bit of this into actual painting.
Setting up a blog is HARD.
I worked on this blog thing most of today. Make no mistake - it's hard work.
Especially for someone like me - I own a Mac almost purely because I know very little about computers. I don't know code, I don't know how to create a webpage (which is why mollyharrington.com lies parked at GoDaddy.com), and I don't know how to create any sort of interesting "stuff", apparently.
I know how to Paint.
I know how to Draw.
I know how to Write.
I can also take a look at your insurance policy and tell you what may be wrong with it, but that's a skill I prefer to sock away in my past life.
But I can not navigate this stuff without a significant learning curve. I'm getting better at it, and if ANYONE has any suggestions (this means you, Mark), give me a holler.
Despite my naivete, I did manage to:
1. Enable Digg! This can be great or horrible. Your content is at the mercy of the Digg community.
2. Upload the photo of Colonel Mustard. His face describes it all.
3. Open and load Google AdSense. I'm horribly tempted to click on the ads - some of them, simply because I'm interested in what they are. But my terms say I can't do that. I'd rather not tempt fate at this point. But if you see this, please, click on stuff to the right of this text. The more you do, the more they make this stuff easy for people like me.
4. Enable FeedBurner to work with my blog. I don't quite know what this does exactly, but I was told to do it by a friend
5. Rearrange my template to fit the elements a little better.
6. Ask the peeps on myspace to request a link to this. I'm asking them to send me a message for it right now, but will probably post something at a later time. I'm kind of trying to figure out who exactly is reading that thing.
I am still trying to:
-create a masthead
-figure out how to upload my artwork in an aesthetically pleasing way.
-get rid of this toothache.
-figure out how to make the text stretch a little wider. I don't know though - my screen is a widescreen, so it may be dumb to do this.
-get this thing loaded with content so I feel comfortable getting it publicized. This involves me just sitting down and WRITING.
-get rid of this darn cat. He has a name now. Ugly Cat.
-load a link for April's Kittycat fund. While she enjoys haunting me through cats, she DID say that her dad would probably take Ugly Cat.
-figure out what else I can do for free with this thing.
Stay Tuned.
Especially for someone like me - I own a Mac almost purely because I know very little about computers. I don't know code, I don't know how to create a webpage (which is why mollyharrington.com lies parked at GoDaddy.com), and I don't know how to create any sort of interesting "stuff", apparently.
I know how to Paint.
I know how to Draw.
I know how to Write.
I can also take a look at your insurance policy and tell you what may be wrong with it, but that's a skill I prefer to sock away in my past life.
But I can not navigate this stuff without a significant learning curve. I'm getting better at it, and if ANYONE has any suggestions (this means you, Mark), give me a holler.
Despite my naivete, I did manage to:
1. Enable Digg! This can be great or horrible. Your content is at the mercy of the Digg community.
2. Upload the photo of Colonel Mustard. His face describes it all.
3. Open and load Google AdSense. I'm horribly tempted to click on the ads - some of them, simply because I'm interested in what they are. But my terms say I can't do that. I'd rather not tempt fate at this point. But if you see this, please, click on stuff to the right of this text. The more you do, the more they make this stuff easy for people like me.
4. Enable FeedBurner to work with my blog. I don't quite know what this does exactly, but I was told to do it by a friend
5. Rearrange my template to fit the elements a little better.
6. Ask the peeps on myspace to request a link to this. I'm asking them to send me a message for it right now, but will probably post something at a later time. I'm kind of trying to figure out who exactly is reading that thing.
I am still trying to:
-create a masthead
-figure out how to upload my artwork in an aesthetically pleasing way.
-get rid of this toothache.
-figure out how to make the text stretch a little wider. I don't know though - my screen is a widescreen, so it may be dumb to do this.
-get this thing loaded with content so I feel comfortable getting it publicized. This involves me just sitting down and WRITING.
-get rid of this darn cat. He has a name now. Ugly Cat.
-load a link for April's Kittycat fund. While she enjoys haunting me through cats, she DID say that her dad would probably take Ugly Cat.
-figure out what else I can do for free with this thing.
Stay Tuned.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Yep, I'm definitely a dog person.
I had to wait until I could find a cord before I could post this.
Because there was a dog on my head.
Even moving enough to take the picture made him cranky. He wanted to STAY on my head.
Let me back this up. I went outside tonight to throw trash in the public cans. I don't like throwing broken glass in our cans, because if I ever have to clean it myself, I'll cut my hands. I know. But at any rate. So I'm outside. It's beautiful out. When I come back to my house, I sit on my stoop and who should come up to visit but a little tabby cat. He sits down next to me. I discover he's owned. Like as in he has a tag and a collar and even a BELL. It's 1:00 am, and it's too late to call the number on the tag.
Impasse.
Leave the cat out there or take it in?
It's late. Drunks are driving. South Street. No one stops for cats if they hit them. Philly drivers don't even stop when they hit PEOPLE. This cat was in the street ten seconds ago. There's alley cats (who are perfectly okay on their own) out. This cat is declawed. In my mind, this is like turning me loose in North Philly with no money and no phone - the thug alley cats will inevitably EAT this declawed cat alive.
BUT.
I'm allergic to cats. My roommate hates cats. Hell, I do, too. We have no cat food. No litter box. Cat pee smells really bad. Colonel Mustard has rarely even seen cats. And finally, being single at 28, I am not taking any chances that I could become the crazy cat lady.
And then my friend April, who is just as opinionated as me, springs into my mind. April is like five bajillion months pregnant right now, her husband is not coming to the US until probably AFTER the baby is born, and she's seriously cyber-collecting to get $1000 to bring her cat over from New Zealand. If I could give her any, I'd contribute. If any of you want to help my barefoot-and-pregnant best friend from high school get her kitty over here to help her feel better, I will send a link to send funds via paypal to anyone that asks. I kinda owe her. Really. When we were in high school, we got in a fight over something I don't recall, she went off to work at a camp and LITERALLY ALMOST DIED in an accident where she fell like 20 million feet. Yes, I was thinking "oh my god it was my fault". But she lived and is better. More importantly, directly because of it, I apologized to my cousin Laura before she got on a plane, after we got in a tiff in Iowa - I kid you not, purely because April sprung into my brain. Laura and I cried in the airport (a little drunk) and said we loved each other, blah blah blah...seems great, but Laura died a year later. That time in the airport was the last time I saw her. If not for April's little Sally Field face springing in my brain, I'd never have forgiven myself.
So when April haunted me I figured it was best to pay attention.
Little did I know.
The cat and Colonel Mustard are fighting like...well, cats and dogs. Colonel was actually excited for a friend. This cat, however, is VICIOUS. He comes in the house and runs straight for the Colonel with a strong, evil HISS. The dog just looks...hurt. Like I've taken in the Bad Seed. The cat camps out and keeps rubbing against my legs. I'm not interested. Oh, he WANTS to be petted. He's nice to ME. The dog, however, is not kitty's friend. He's crying like I've taken him to Michael Vick's house to play with Cujo. He's SCARED. Honestly, so am I. If the cat weren't declawed, I'd kick him out. But since he's defenseless, April haunts me.
And now here we are. The cat is ruling the house, and the dog is relegated to the couch, literally scared to the point where he's sitting ON MY HEAD.
Is this how my friends felt when they brought their second child home from the hospital? Well, not the resentment of the second child thing, but the worry over what the firstborn will do to react?
I have to go to bed now. My throat is closing up because of this furball.
April, can we call it even? I'll even fall off a tree if that's what it takes, this cat is driving me nuts. Please, though - don't haunt me through cats.
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