Do movie people watch movies? People who make movies and people who are in movies--do they watch movies that other people have made or that other people are in?

I know that directors and actors go to movie premieres, and we know that they have lots of fun at the parties after the premiers, but do they actually sit in the theatre in their dressy clothes and watch? Also, does Nicole Kidman rent movies and watch them with her boyfriend on her couch, like normal people do?

We know that someone reads the books that the movies are made after. Do the directors read the books themselves, or do they pay people to look and read books and then report back as to whether they have good movie potential? Sometimes we hear that a specific actor really connects with her character and feels like the set really came to life and was true to the book. Assuming that wasn't something a publicist told her to say, that must mean that she read the book to feel the character out, right?

Do the cameramen watch other movies for inspiration? It must be fascinating to watch movies with a cameraman or a director or an editor whose job is to be behind the set. (Mister Stone, I'm looking at you) I secretly wanted to watch a play with my high school director, just so we could have a fascinating conversation afterward through play analysis.

Somehow, I just can't imagine Humphrey Bogart or Carey Grant or Tom Cruise sitting with his dog and watching a good, action movie. Is there anyone out there who you just can't put on that couch, with a remote in hand?
greendryad: (Intimacy's Confidence)
( Feb. 11th, 2009 02:52 pm)
It takes a lot of staring to appreciate the desert. I was born and raised there, and it wasn't until college and lots of car trips through the desert did I realize how beautiful it is. It's what I get for living in the biggest city in New Mexico.

It was one of those instances of "you don't know what you had until you don't have it anymore". I didn't love the desert until I was out of it. You see, Utah isn't really desert, not compared to New Mexico. It's only semi-arid. There are a lot more trees and much more snow in Utah. People here complain often about being in a drought, and they may be, but if New Mexico doesn't get enough rain during their wet season, then all the campgrounds and hiking trails shut down because we don't want another National Disaster, or so the President announced.

Still, as I rode to and from Cedar City where I was going to school, I stared out the window. At first, it just looks brown. My hubbin still thinks it's brown and flat. But as you continue to look out into the distance, you see the mountains out there are different shades of blue. The sun hits those mountains to enhance all their different shadows and specific outlines.

Not only are there mountains, but the mesas and the rolling land also contribute to the texture. The rock contrasts with the sea of sagebrush, and the rock looks gently pink or red. And some of those mesas and mounts are purple. After all that staring, you realize that it's beautiful. And you find tears on your cheeks and a pain in your throat. It's as enchanting as the trees and the lakes, but in a much more subtle tone.

Maybe that's why the roads are so straight in New Mexico. So no one gets sick and the drivers can find the beauty, too. That subtleness in the quiet, still layers takes searching for. And the enchantment isn't some chuffed-off-the-head word that a stranger and publicist just made up because the state needed a nickname. Someone found the truth by staring.
Those teenage years were tough,
but what's even harder
is knowing you could have been
a friend.
I was horrible.
All those stupid moves.
I thought I was being so coy and hard-to-get,
but it just meant that we never
conversed.

When we did,
one-liners and tiny, trite exchanges,
I stammered, stuttered
and was accidentally rude.
When the insults came out,
surprise followed.

I thought you deserved the insults
because you were male
underprivileged yet unobtainable
and you didn't understand.

I wish you had seen the surprise.

Then I hated all boys
because they wouldn't extend that hand
to all the lonely, awkward,
un-confident yet eager girls.
I placed all the blame on you,
because you never gave a chance.

Notice I'm married now?
The first step there:
Boys are my friends
before they admire me.

Just like any other human being.

~Kate Twitchell
greendryad: (Girl Profile)
( Feb. 5th, 2009 05:59 pm)
I ate a piece of (previously undiscovered) heaven just now.

A sandwich. From my own kitchen. Thinly sliced turkey on sliced whole wheat. With melted monterey jack, the last of the guacamole salsa, and lots of really mild honey mustard that I brought home in a little unopened plastic cup from Arctic Circle. I cut it in triangle halves and scooped the rest of the cottage cheese into a small bowl. Then sat on my chaise and feasted.

Yes, heavenly. No one ever said heavenly can't taste spicy and wholesome, especially to a stomach that's eaten nothing since this morning. The honey mustard dripped all over my fingers and my place and my palms. It was a small pleasure to lick it off my palms and mop up the last of it with the crust.

Wow. I've just written about a sandwich.

It was that good.
Lately, I've been spooked by this news and what I see at GreatestJournal, which is a journal built in the same fashion of LiveJournal.

It's just a precaution, but just in case LiveJournal takes the same plunge that GreatestJournal has, I'm doing a monthly backup of this blog to Wordpress. I'd hate to lose three years' worth of writing to the result of poor economy and several unfortunate business transactions.

I've been doing some half-hearted looking for a new server, anyway. As much as I love LJ's privacy options, it doesn't provide the type of public exposure I want. Maybe this is foolish, but I want more hits, more readers. I had investigated Blogspot, but I honestly just don't like the name of the server--it just sounds so awkward with those consonants-- or the association with Google, the ever-growing giant of Internet business.

At the first of my panic to find another server, I signed up with InsaneJournal which operates off the same Open Source code as LiveJournal. But they refer to each account holder as a Patient and to each community as an Asylum. And they have a little mascot in the top corner of every page that says different snarky or smart-aleck things every time you visit a different page on the server. Not very professional and not something I want to look at several times a week.

It was also a matter of how exactly to copy three years' worth of writing over to somewhere else. But when I read this article, and poked around at their privacy features, I found that Wordpress would be a good fit.

Still, if LiveJournal hangs on and continues to support, I'll continue to stay. I love the communities I belong to here and the friends I have associated with particularly through LJ. I've grown attached to the layout of this, too. But I feel prepared if something happens.
I'm discovering, over the last year or so, how my personal drive works. I no longer have outside forces--teachers, school institutions--pulling my productivity. I no longer have someone else assigning me various due dates and deadlines.

I'm discovering how strong my ambition is all over again. The personal conclusion that I get average grades came years ago: I work just as hard as the A or B student, but sometimes it amounts to B or C work. That took my parents awhile to realize as well. They were often pushing me to get better than C work because of The American Tradition of the children being more successful and more talented than their parents. Now I'm trying to evaluate how much of that shlump was my poor personal drive and how much of it was the disability.

Sometimes, I have to re-invent those outside forces. Right now, I'm looking for a job because I want the money to buy finishing touches to our apartment. I could probably just buy them with the money I've got in my bank accounts, but I'm specifically telling myself that I can't buy this or this or that until I've got a job.

This is really funny because I remember mom giving me pep talks when I didn't want to do my homework. She gave a motivation suggestion: tell yourself that you can't read a book or watch your favorite show until you finish your homework. It never worked for me. This could be different; I don't have the money to buy this extra stuff until I've got a cash flow.

But I've got this writing project. It's stalled right now because all I can concentrate on is getting a job and keeping the house clean and the hubbin fed. But when I do have a job and maybe a more set schedule, I'll set more realistic goals for myself. The first one I set was to read through and take notes on a particular book full of facts about trees. I finished that in the middle of last year. The second goal I set for myself was to copy and consolidate all of the worldbuilding notes I've made to myself down to Word document. I got about three-quarters finished when I stopped for some reason. Maybe I just ran out of drive. Maybe I dumped that project to start packing instead.

I haven't picked it up again. I wonder if my personal drive has fizzled in the writing department or whether it can only focus on one big task at a time, like finding a job or moving or unpacking. Whatever it is, I remembered the notes project goal I made for myself for the first time since October or so. The least I can do is finish that.
I posted a link to an article that I thought was funny the other day. A friend of mine commented several minutes after it was up and told me that she thought it was funny in concept, but very crass in language.

I've often used her as a touchstone, brushing against her to feel whether something I do is morally right. She has tighter values than I do and she is more confident about them than I am about mine. In times in the past, she's gently but firmly expressed her disapproval because she's my friend, and she cares about my well-being. Because of that slap, I have always re-evaluated my view on what I've done. And I have never regretted the readjustment that always came after.

I do this because I admire her. Because she reminds me of the higher standard that I'm striving for. That standard is one reason why I go to church and why I subscribe to the religion that I do. I think, too, I have always had different friends than she has. I probably have more non-Mormon friends than she, although I certainly don't use that as a weight on my side of some Scale of Coolness.

I only say this because I choose to surround myself with people who have different moral standards than I. It makes life more interesting for me. I keep my friendship with her because I find that she's a fascinating person as well. I love her as a friend and as that touchstone.

She's like my personal trainer. I've learned the rules of fitness, and even when I've got dear friends who don't care about exercising, she keeps me in check. They're still my friends, but if I slip in not eating right, she calls me on it.

She's better at determining what is right and what is not in a world of swirling colors. I realized, after her comment about the language of the article in question, that it did offend me slightly but that I still thought it was funny. However, I also realized that whatever I post on here is a reflection of me. I choose not to use particular language; I don't dislike or judge the people I interact with for speaking that language, but if I post an article, it means I would speak that language myself.

So I deleted the post altogether. And I tucked it in my personal bookmarks instead, because I still find it funny and clever. And even though I choose to set specific guidelines for myself, it doesn't mean that I don't struggle with maintaining them.

She's reading this, I'm certain. Thank you, darling. I appreciate you.
It feels like I've perfected the art of job-hunting. When you've decided that the business would actually be somewhere you'd tolerate working and somewhere you'd be able to get to without devoting your entire day to work and travel, then you apply. This takes more than just filling out the form or answering repetitive questions reworded to catch the sociopaths.

If you walk in the place to inquire, your phrasing counts. If you ask, "Are you hiring," you have the chance of getting, "We're always hiring; would you like an application?" Of course, even if you ask, "Do you have any open positions at this location?" (which eliminates the option of "well, we're not hiring here, but some of our other stores might be..."), you still might get, "Well, I don't know, but I can give you an application." This phrase always ends with an upward question note that allows you to refuse.

And that puts you in a conundrum. Unless you can figure out whether THAT store is hiring NOW while you're standing in the store, either from a manager or from their website, then all you can do is fill out the stupid form. If they're not hiring, you can tell by the response you get from the person who's hiring. That's if the person you give the form to doesn't tell you, with a slight eye roll, "Thanks. I'll put it in the pile with all the others." The hirer usually tells you whether it'll be put in the pile with all the rest of the pieces of paper or whether she'll actually read it in the next few days.

If it's a successful, "Yes, we've got a spot that needs filling," and the app actually gets there before the spot gets filled, then you ask for the hiring manager's name. It's that key word that makes the following phone calls feel more personal and shorter. After all, "Gary" or "Rose" is shorter than "your hiring manager". And if you've got that name, it means that you don't have to tell every person who answers the phone that you want to work with them and that you're on that desperate hit-and-miss for contact.

Even if they're not working on the first phone call, you can ask if they know when that precious contact is working again. Sometimes, the person you're talking to really doesn't know. Some managers just kinda show up whenever they like. And some of the people who work with that manager really don't care. Then you have to figure out whether that manager is a jerk or whether the employee you're talking to is tired and wants to go home.
We've had cable for the last three years. We lived in two apartments in the same complex, and the complex gave us a discount on cable. We juiced it for all it was worth: we recorded almost all the Voyager episodes from Spike, and we've gulped up as much of The Amazing Race as we could find. We watched lots of movies and had a binge on Fringe for awhile before Just'In got his new job. I ate up all the Food Network and HGTV until I'd taken as many notes of handy tips as I possibly could. And Just'In really liked Clean House for awhile there; I thought it was weird.

We decided that we wouldn't get cable or satellite in this place, though. We're cleansing our palates and enjoying the books we have. We're concentrating on projects and job-hunting and moulding the apartment together. And we still find time for a little less TV than we did before. Lately, we've been enjoying the auditions of American Idol.

Just the auditions, mind you. We did this when we had cable, too; the auditions are the best part of the whole show, and we don't bother watching the actual competition. After the initial shock of only having seven channels, we've remembered the old British comedies that come on at night. Right now, we love "Keeping Up Appearances" with Hyacinth, Rose, Daisy, and the horror that comes from just Hyacinth.

I've re-discovered my love for PBS. Yes, the kid's stuff, too; stop gaping or groaning inside. There's a new show that's come on called The Electric Company. It's started this month. It caught my eye because of its music video/High School Musical quality. But they're rapping. And there's that learning-how-to-read thing like Between The Lions. Only this is for kids who are older, it feels like. Like Between the Lions, it's got very specific plots and then letter features that deviate from the plot but center around a theme (the teens are stuck in a spaceship and trying to get out, but the sound of the episode is the short e and the long a).

Maybe it feels older because the actors are mostly teenagers/tweens and adults. They're Number One on the PBS Kids site. Click on Channels and then Top Ten. Like the users on this site, my second favorite is Arthur. I was just watching the music videos the other day.

Electric Company. Wow. What a cool combination of sound and video. It feels like it should be owned by Disney, but I'm so happy it belongs to Public Television.
I need to buy another dresser. I'm being a little more picky with this one than I was with the last one I bought for our walk-in closet. Since all the wood in our bedroom is dark but the bed, I'd like this dresser to be dark as well. I also want it to kinda fit in a particular spot in the room and be under $75. Ish.

I've been looking for several weeks now. I found one, but I responded too slowly and someone else bought it. It was lovely, and I'm still not completely over that loss. Still, the rest of my apartment will be pretty cluttered until I buy this dresser.

It's not just the clothes that don't have a place to go. I want to hang a large fiberglass panel over where the dresser will go, but because I don't know how tall the dresser will be will be, I can't hang it until I buy the dresser.

I also want to install a curtain rod that I bought specifically for the bedroom window. The apartment complex won't charge me if I leave the curtain rod on the wall when I move, but I might just take it back down and Freecycle it before we go. The holes that the rod will make will be small because the screws are small. I'm excited to install it and get the curtains up, but I can't until I know exactly where the dresser is going to go. The space for it is right next to the window. Also, I might extend the curtain rod to cover some of the wall space, but I don't know how much of that wall will be occupied by this dresser that I haven't found yet.

I have a picture that I just got back from the framers this week. I want to hang it where the fiberglass panel and the curtain rod are both propped now, but I can't. The picture is now propped against the bathroom cabinet.
I'm a tinkerer, a putter-about, a jack-of-all-arts. I can't help it; I don't have one strong talent in one thing, but I have a little bit of talent in almost everything. In the arts, I can sing, dance, draw, write, and act. But I can't do any of those things better than all the others. I guess it's really a lesson in choosing your battle and picking what you want your strengths to be.

Strangely enough, college classes helped. Kinda. I didn't really excel in any of the dance classes because my poor eyesight impairs my vision, and I was working with girls who had danced their whole lives. I tried to take an art class, but when I learned that I had to start at 1010 and work my way up to the classes I really wanted to take, and then found that I knew most of the skills in the 1010 anyway... Yeah, that was annoying.

I was a theatre major until I transferred to a different school. When I transferred, I was doing so to move to the same town my husband lived. One of us had to move, and he had a job that he loved. Once I transferred, I knew that my degree would have to be a starting point for a backup career if he suddenly wasn't there or couldn't work.

I realized that if I majored in theatre, I would only be equipped to do theatre for the rest of my life. If I were to make it my career, my kids (because I've always wanted them) wouldn't have a very good childhood. If you know theatre, it means lots of time in the theatre. Most afternoons and evenings. Long nights for several dress rehearsals and performances. Lots of time for someone else to raise my kids and take over my responsibility.

So I made theatre my minor--because I had so many credits in it-- and tried writing as a major instead. I really didn't want to pick just one art--if I could have majored in some horribly complicated Interdisciplinary Studies program, I would have--but I'm really glad that I picked what I did. Writing is something that is easy to teach in classes. It's also highly versatile--it involves writing commercials or writing advertisements. Then there's always writing articles and short stories and poems for magazines and submitting stuff like flash fiction and novellas to other magazines. After doing this for awhile, the natural progression is to write novels or publish collections of all those magazine submissions.

It's a lot of work. But it's work that can be done in the spare moments of a more natural motherhood: while they're napping or playing or bathing or at school; while the laundry and the dishes are running; while waiting for them at practices or while at bus stops in transit... While the work is hard and the self-push is tough, the possibilities are endless and the imagination still has room to flow.

Plenty of room. There's a poster on my wall that both Just'In and I picked out:

"The quality of imagination is to flow. It cannot be contained. It is limitless."
greendryad: (Default)
( Jan. 14th, 2009 04:57 pm)
Everyone smells different. It's taken me awhile to figure out exactly how, but even if we're not all applying cologne or perfume on a daily basis, we all have different scents of deodorant, soap, shampoo, lotion, aftershave, shaving gel, nail polish, and chapstick. I might not smell specifically like my shampoo, but all the little scented things we apply to our body contribute to that overall smell.

Then of course, there's the smell of your sweat. Your body odor in general, really. Even though we cover it up with all sorts of stuff, everyone's body odor smells slightly different, and it, too, adds to the mix. There's also the effect of how our snot and our saliva receive those smells. In some effect, we're smelling everything through our snot. As much as it adds to the mix, if we don't like the smell of that filter because of a cold or because our own bodies are changing their chemical combinations, then everyone smells bad to us.

That change happens to me every once in awhile. Not today, thank heavens, but when it does, the thing that smells the worst is myself. I have to get used to my own scent because it has adjusted itself slightly. It happens when you walk into a house. Some houses are worse than others, depending on how often and how thoroughly they've been cleaned, but you know that sometimes you can smell the house. And the family smells the same as the house they live in.

Which means that the smell of a family changes as they move from residence to residence. I liked the smell of this apartment when I first walked in here. It's nothing identifiable, ("Oh, that smells like lemon and moth balls!") but I was happy with the thought that, eventually, this apartment smell would add to my personal smell.
This is the typical Monday that everyone groans about: a habit that needs fixing somehow, an Email that turns the pleasant music in the head to sour and sharp notes, and productivity stuck in the dirt track of the trail, unable to go on because of the dirt beneath the feet.

And as much as I'd love that to be my summary of the day, I know your mind is screaming for further explanation.

The habit is in the shower. In our old apartment, our shower was inside a tub, but the only good thing about it was that I could turn the faucet on to the smallest trickle and let the warmth arrive at its own time without wasting precious resource. Once it came, I used the warmth to soak my face and ward away greasy spots. Then, all I had to do was add cold to hot until the temperature was a little hotter than desired, activate shower, then introduce warmth everywhere.

Here, we have a shower stall. I prefer a shower stall--I have since I was twelve or so--over the wasted space of a tub. I never take baths; plus, I love the idea of a little room that is dedicated to flowing water on steaming skin. My only problem is that smallest trickle of warm for the face.

It seems to take longer for that warmth to come here. I could turn up the water pressure and allow the warmth to come quicker, but I don't need that pressure for a washcloth and my hands. If I were overly concerned, I might do a water volume test to see which method sends more cold water down the drain before it arrives to warmth, but today, it just adds to the Monday feeling.

That unpleasant Email concerns a dresser that I've been eyeing. If I regard myself honestly, I can only say that I was eyeing it for too long. I didn't think of the possibility that someone else might also be eyeing it as well. A low price, a gorgeous product picture, all on Craigslist... I've always gotten what I ask for on Craigslist. This is the first time that someone beat me to it.

Much of it has to do with Saturday. I wanted to make sure that this gorgeous dresser was the best option for the space it's meant for. So we planned a shopping trip to a few used furniture stores. And as soon as we finished at the last one, before I went into the music store, I made that phone call the claim the Craigslist dresser.

I left a voicemail, then kept my hand on my phone for the rest of the day. And I Emailed her when I got home, just in case the computer was quicker. I wonder who got it and what they looked like. I wonder if they offered a slightly higher price or were so eager to pick it up that they couldn't wait another day. If they cheered when they put it into place. If they love the size of the drawers and the design of the wood. I wonder if they fingered the handles when they arrived to pick it up and ran their hand along the top, searching for nicks. I wonder if they paid in twenties or fives or quarters.

I hope they stared at the pictures of the dresser as often as I did. They picked up the phone quicker, that is certain. It simply leaves me in a grouch.

The loss of productivity is just subjective. I have a list of daily tasks that is too long. I expect my productivity to end as soon as it turns dark, when it simply needs a change of light source.

I must make sure I am not stuck in front of the computer for the rest of the dark, though it would fit with the tone of a Monday.
Before I was married, I had a collection of CDs that I hung on my wall. In all the various places I lived, I made sure to hang up the CDs along with the other wallhangings I had garnished over the years.

Of course, the things I hung on my walls in my teenage bedroom varied from the things I hung on my wall in the dorms. For one, I was a different person. The second reason is that in the dorms, not everything can be hung on cinder block walls. That eliminated lots of things that I normally would have brought with me.

It also upped my knowledge and cleverness of how to hang stuff on walls. I learned eventually that it is possible to hang things on cinder block walls from nails; you just have to find a hole that's already there to wedge a nail into. Also, things that are normally hung with nails can often be hung with push-pins, particularly those with a plastic head that you can grip. Push-pins have a much shorter length than nails and thus are easier to wedge into the minuscule holes of cinder blocks.

The CDs always travelled with me. I didn't have them before I moved out, but somehow AOL likes to send installation CDs to poor college students and not to teenagers. And there was a church that handed out CDs at our semesterly Religious Appreciation Day (or Figure Out What LDS Student Congregation You Belong To, because all my university experiences were in Utah). And occasionally, I'd find a music CD along the road.

All these got hung up on the wall. Sticky tacky adheres wonderfully to cinder blocks. I got the idea from a high school friend of mine, [livejournal.com profile] hayley_beth24, whose room was so cool and so interesting to hang in. I was thrilled when I found that Justin had a collection of wall CDs too.

So of course, our wall CDs got combined. And then he started working at Best Buy. He got a lot of CDs from work (product downloads, instructional videos), and when he bought himself a DVD recorder, he encountered a lot of mistake and dud DVDs, so those were added to the collection, too.

In every apartment we've lived in, I've put the CDs on the inside of the front door and around the door. They always made the wall seem larger, and the mirror they make was useful for one last check to make sure there was no milk on the shirt or spaghetti sauce on the chin.

The door in this apartment has panels (kinda like this) so it would be really hard to make the CDs look cool. So, I hung them in the hall today. Our tiny kitchen has a ledge along it that opens up the the living room and the hall. Cabinets hang over the ledge, and you could see, before today, all the places where previous tenants have taped posters and such on the cabinets. The tape they used peeled off the finish on the veneer of the cabinets.

Well, You can't see those marks anymore because I hung CDs in the hall. On the back of the cabinets, on the wall below the laminate ledge, and on the bit of wall above the cabinets. I set the CDs and the putty on the ledge and crouched down or climbed up to attach the CDs.

What a workout. My legs hurt after I was done. And yes, the hall looks bigger even when there's other stuff hanging in the hall.
I enjoy spreading my feet out and spreading everything I use around me. Thus, for as long as I can remember, I've spent the majority of my time on the bed. However, Just'In is sick of me squishing the pillows on our bed. So, when we moved into a new apartment, he suggested getting me a chaise.

I think it's brilliant. I've done some wandering around online and tried to figure out what I like, but there's a difference between what looks good and what works physically. For years, my favorite armchair to read in had a matching ottoman and armrests on both sides. I remember retreating to the bed because my elbows were sore from being cramped and knocked by the armrests and I kept falling into the gap between the chair and the ottoman. A chaise is perfect for me.

I've determined, based on that history and based on the chairs that I sit in currently for computer time, that one armrest might be fine. As long as my elbows have room to spread out. In examining chaise styles, one upholstered wall might be even better; I have often leaned against the wall along my bed to give me a different position while reading.

Yes, I've done extensive online searching. I've determined that I like the look of curved stuff like this, but I've tried out one of those contoured lounges and found that I don't like them. I have to have somewhere to place a book and curl up into a ball and change positions when reading.

So, because of the physical realization from trying one chaise, I continued that chaise hunt today. In person. I visited two stores, tried out different-shaped chaises, and had casual conversations with salespeople. I discovered lots of things: I want a free-standing chaise, not one that's part of a sectional couch. I want one that's relatively narrow so it'll fit in the space that I want it to, and that means that it can't have any arms or it probably must be custom-designed. I like this, but I also like this. I don't want brown. Black might be acceptable and something patterned? Well, I'll have to see.

I also discovered that Just'In really does have a price range in mind. He balked at some of the other chaises that I just sat on to try to get a feel of what I liked, not in serious consideration. The last place we stopped was the miracle worker. I had looked at armless chaises before online, but they all looked boxy. Well, it must be the camera angle or the color, because I liked this one. This one was an orange-y-brown. Good width, clearance price, and when I got home, I could imagine it in the space.

That's a good sign. I've decided that I'm going to sleep on it and see how I feel in the morning. I was fired up when I could see how it would fit in the place it needs to, and even more so when I realized that because it has no arms, it can fit in at least three places in the room instead of just one. Flexibility in an apartment is a good thing.

I ate dinner and was still psyched. It wasn't until I started writing this post did I think that perhaps I should shop around some more.

I'll sleep on it and then go look at it again tomorrow.
I've found more stuff about homosexuality. I'm including these links here for my own benefit, so I don't go searching for them and find that I've lost them in everything I read online.

My dear friend Steven's opinions: Via Someone Else's Article. He's also got a letter to Apple two posts below this that has a less graceful opinion as well.

But to counter that is this beautifully simple display of girls who look healthy and happy to me. Of a conscious choice and conscious responsibility. My guess is that these girls would be insulted that I'm even teetering on the line, eyeing one side and then the other, trying out each side for temperature and texture.

I think my decision will end up being silent. I know people on both sides who love the texture of their side of the line. I love both sets of people. Deep down, I just don't want to offend anyone because my heart is full of love for humanity. And love for love in general.

This is hard. And this is also the place where I ask for anyone else's inclusion of links on the issue. Anybody? A cultured opinion that I haven't read yet?
Location: An Apartment Slowly Being Put Together-- I Put Up Two Groups of Pictures Today and Just Got Rid of Lots of Boxes & Tupperware Via Freecycle

Also as of today, my measurements are thus:

Bust: 33
Waist: 27
Hips: 35
Girth: 61

Keep in mind, of course, that I'm using a homemade paper measuring tape. I'm also measuring myself as opposed to someone measuring me, which I'm sure makes a difference.

The girth measurement is a new one. I'm used to being measured for costumes in the theatre, but I can't say that I've ever been measured for dancewear, which is what I've got my eye on now. You think the inseam measurement is uncomfortable? The girth measurement is from the top of one shoulder, across one boob, down to the crotch, straight underneath, and the back up to the shoulder you started with. Yeah, that measurement covers all the intimate areas.

No wonder we dancers are all so frank.
The feature post for one of my favorite blogs is by me today. Visit The Great Whatsit and read "The Latest In Multipurpose Religion, Courtesy of The Mailbox". Read and comment, if you like. I'm rather proud of myself; I wrote this post in June.
greendryad: (Default)
( Dec. 20th, 2008 04:42 pm)



This was our spare bathroom yesterday morning. Most of the kitchen boxes, empty; and yes, they're stacked in the bathtub.

Just'In has since collapsed all the boxes in the bedroom and in this photo. The stacks grow again as we continue to unpack.

Further motivation, other than Christmas: my in-laws want to see the apartment tomorrow after church. I want to stand at the door and give them a disclaimer: this is still a work-in-progress. A painting half-painted, half-bare, the brushstrokes and brainwork clearly evident. At this point, most of the office is in boxes, and the clutter that covers every surface is just stuff that doesn't have a place yet. Nothing is hung on the wall and we haven't bought stuff like a bathroom rug and a shower rod.

They don't poke their heads often into our space. I hope they don't think that this is the way we normally live: a box as a bedside table, blankets folded and stacked on the floor next to piles of clothes that don't have drawers yet. Empty trashcans with lamps in them.

I've been concentrating on the boxes. I've done all this work, and I still feel embarrassed.
"It's snowing."

We say this often, particularly when it's happening. "It is snowing," or maybe, "I hope it snows," if it's not happening where you are.

"It" is a pronoun that stands in the place of another noun. The pronoun is usually used so we writers aren't repetitive. But what is "it" in this context?

We usually think of "it" as the weather outside. "It's sunny outside today." Put it into our original sentence and it doesn't quite fit: "The weather is snowing."

"The sky is snowing," doesn't quite work either. "The clouds are snowing," is probably the best fit, but then there's that switch from singular to plural; that doesn't quite work either.

I don't know the answer, even though I've been thinking about it for the last week while it has snowed. Can anyone give me an answer?
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