Blown Fuse

Musings on Star Wars

Finally got around to watching Star Wars episode III this afternoon. Although Scott went to see it in the theater and bought the DVD as soon as it came out, I just couldn't propel myself to watch it until I was good 'n ready. I have to be in a "mood" to watch movies that have a lot of action/fighting sequences.

I will say that I was pleased that George Lucas tied episodes II and IV together pretty seamlessly. I didn't feel like he was just tossing in a lot of crap to make the series end nice and tidy. Everything made sense, and given that most people who've seen episodes IV-VI would know that certain people get killed off, it didn't feel terribly predictable.

Good movie. I will say, thought, that because I saw Space Balls before I saw Star Wars, I never really thought of Darth Vader as an ominous character - even with the James Earl Jones voice. All I could think about was Rick Moranis in that big-ass helmet. Not so much now.

*blink. blink*

You know, one problem with unemployment (other than the missing expendable income), is that unemployment + pregnacy = not leaving the house. Not leaving the house = boring Tiffany. There's only so much interest you all have in how much my cats fight or how I feel like I'm shaped like an egg.

I needed yarn to finish a project yesterday so I went to AC Moore. Then, I turned that into a full-out assualt to try to find season-appropriate decorating materials for the empty planters in the front yard. AC Moore had too much Halloween stuff. Went to Pier 1 just to be doing something. Went to World Market (bought chocolate; gazed lovingly at gourmet foodstuffs). I was walking around those stores far longer than I would ever be in there, knowing that I only had a limited amount to spend. I'm a run-in-run-out type of personality.

If I weren't such a homebody, I'd be concerned for my sanity at this point.

I don't even know.

Do you ever sit and wonder what the hell you're doing?

That's what I'm doing right now. I can't drum up enough brain fire to remember what it was that I sat down at the computer to do.

I know there's lots of things I should be doing right now, none of which I have any real desire to do. I could be working on my portfolio. I could be finishing that f-ing novella I said I'd finish this month. I could be applying for even more jobs that I really don't want to do (and learning that I really was underpaid by about $10,000 for that job when I was doing it).

Actually, I could go back to sleep and that would solve a lot of my problems because, being asleep, I won't have to try so hard to avoid things.

Meanwhile, I'm going to get up and retrace my steps back from the t.v. room to my desk and maybe that will refresh my memory of why it's so important for me to be sitting in this chair right now.

The Great Giveaway Challenge

I guess my nesting instinct has started to kick in, but I'm in full "trash it" mode.

If I don't use it, won't use it, or shouldn't have bought it to start with, it's getting out of my house. Because my husband is a hoarder, we have some problems with space. We just don't have the room to add a person to the house without getting rid of some things, so, anything that isn't nailed down at this point is at risk of being booted (cats excluded).

The link to this entry will go into sidebar and I'll use it to keep track of all the various and sundry things I've parted with. Some of these things could probably go on eBay for a couple of bucks, but as that's such as hassle I probably won't bother. So, here I go.

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9/13

1 Kenmore sewing machine w/ accessories (Freecycle)

2 bags of disposable wine glasses (Freecycle)

9/14

1 Texas Instruments TI-83 graphic calculator (to underperforming local high school)

10/11

1 kitchen-sized trash bag full of clothing (Vietnam Veterans of America)

1 bag of women's shoes (Vietnam Veterans of America)

4 bags of books on philosophy and other "deep" subjects (Vietnam Veterans of America)

Posted by Tiffany at 03:15 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

You get what you ask for!

Harvey wants something blue for his birthday. So, here ya go, big boy. Happy 40th!

Self-Bribery

Let me tell you a little bit about my fiction writing process.

Unlike some writers, I don't like outlining plots and characters and such before I get underway. I tend to feel stifled by outlines. I know they're just an organizational device, but they sort of put my imagination on lockdown. Once the character is created, I tend to make some notes just to ensure they don't change stats mid-plot, but that's it.

A lot of my stories have come from fragments of crazy dreams I've had or spun off from other stories I've attempted that didn't work. Sometimes I have to wait for a section of a story to "come to me." I don't want to write for writing's sake - I fear that's why so many stories make a reader feel like, "Haven't I read this already?"

That is precisely why I've been working on one particular novella for 6 1/2 years. In fact, I originally began the piece for a certain quarterly contest. That contest has another deadline on 9/30 and I'm really trying to get it done this time.

I spent a lot of time refining the story last week and now I need to put an ending on it. The ending is ALWAYS hard for me, whether we're talking about a dry, boring critical analysis of some snippet of Wordsworth, or a one-page opinion on Lindsay Lohan's black leggings.

I have to make myself a promise here...if I finish the piece in question and get it postmarked on time, I'm buying myself a laser printer (pending employment...).

A-dee, a-dee, a-dee - that's all, folks.

I hate interviews. Have I told you that I hate interviews yet? Well, I hate interviews.

I had one today for an administrative position - I know I said I'd never go back, but it's for a publisher...so it's a foot in the door.

The reason that I really don't like interviews is that I can't make my mind move as fast as my mouth. So, even when people ask me questions that I know the answers to, I always sound like I'm bullshitting. It's easy for me to be colloquial on paper and still seem as though I have a brain, but out loud it's hard to be casual in conversation without reverting to country-isms ("y'all know what I mean?"). I never feel like I get it all out - I just can't get my point across.

I'm going to follow throw and put my thank you note in the mailbox. Then I'm going to cry for about fifteen minutes. Then I'm going to eat ice cream.

It's the little things...

I'm so happy my car has four seats again. You see, when I quit that AmeriCorps gig I was doing, I had a crapload of school supplies in my spare bedroom that had been collected from some local companies. Don't even ask why they were in my house and not at the office. *deep breathing...deep breathing*

Anyway, those supplies were supposed to be dropped off at a certain elementary school who is sort of slow to return phone calls. I had phoned them before school started to try to coordinate a drop-off, but Durham schools are notoriously swamped for the first few weeks. [If I were less interested in following through on prior commitments, I would have just put the crap in my garage and played the "forget about it" game] I finally heard from the assistant principal yesterday and she told me to bring the stuff on out.

The supplies have been sitting in my car for...oh, nigh on three weeks. I hope the crayons aren't melty.

Anyway, they'll no longer be sliding around in my cargo bay. They're sliding around in the school's janitor closet, instead.

Why don't you just put "CW" in a circle and call it a day?

Does anyone else think that the CW's logo is sorely lacking in basic aesthetic goodliness?

I mean, crap, even with my ameteur drawing skillz, I can come up with something better than that. And what's with the green? Are they harkening back to that obnoxious Michigan J. Frog?

It's just....ugly.

Carolina Phoneathon: Training Hustlers of the Future

Occasionally, I'll answer the home phone given the area code be right and I can somewhat recognize the party's name.

When the caller i.d. reads "Carolina," sometimes I mistakenly think that it's my doctor's office or something like that.

BUZZ! Wrong answer! This is the second time I've fallen for that dupe. It's the Carolina Phoneathon - current Carolina students who get paid to call alumni to extricate money out of their cool, clammy clutches. It's not exactly telemarketing, but it's not really a warm call either. I don't know any alumni who'd cuss some kid out for calling - we all expect to be called by the Phoneathon, but damn it if they don't keep trying.

The last time they called, I guess it was six months ago, I told the guy, "Look, I just don't have it right now. I've already given a lot of money to WUNC this year." I don't fault him for asking. It's his job after all.

Today when the chick called, they always verify your address and such to catch you off guard. "Are you still at XXXX blah blah, Durham?"

Me: "Yep."

She: "Oh, okay. And Carolina would love to know what alumni are doing with their degrees."

Me: (nonchalantly) "Oh, I'm unemployed."

She: "Oh-kay, that's understandable. Now...(insert spiel about overseas educational opportunities for students and need for funding). Can you find $100 in your budget to support student programs?"

Me: "Uh...no, not rigt now."

She: "I see. Well, any little bit would help. Would a $10 or $20 donation be doable?"

Me: "Uh...no, not with the unemployment and all."

I know they're following a script, but geez. There's got to be a little button they can push when people say "I ain't got no job" that'll bring up a prompt on the screen saying "Thank you for updating your information with Carolina and your time," or some such crap.

Eh, kids.

Oh, shoot.

So, my mom is threatening me with a surprise visit if I don't answer my phone (*blows raspberry*) [see previous rant about people ringing my doorbell].

Here's the deal (WARNING: this will become a "It's MY baby!" rant). Every recent phone conversation I've had with my mother or grandmother ended with me being pissed off. Either they'd forget that I was a seperate living breathing person who just happens to be pregnant, or they'd insinuate certain ways in which I should raise my child.

1) Yes, I am pregnant. But, chances are that I won't be giving birth tomorrow. He hasn't cooked enough. Stop harrassing me. I'll call you (maybe) when the time comes. Stop checking in on me. It's not a competition between you and the in-laws to see who gets to grab the baby first.

2) You don't have to buy me a damn thing, so don't use my lack of communication as an excuse to punish the baby. Scott and I have gotten by just honky dory the past five years. We'll buy what we need as we need it. We're not impoverished, after all. In fact, we'll just end up buying items that are more to our taste.

3) Don't tell me how to raise my son. There are very few people I'd take parenting advice from and my mother is not included in that list.

4) Don't assume I'm going to leave my son at your house to watch. Family or not, if I know your temper is as shorter than the Hulk's, I'm not dropping my youngun's off so you can beat the hell out of them.

5) Don't ask me every time you talk to me (especially if you talked to me two days ago) if I've gotten "real fat yet?"

I could go on and on. Point is, I really hope they don't show up here, because I'm not going to hash my words if they do.

A Picture Share!

This is so ridiculous. The cable ' internet has been out for over an hour. Time Warner won't send a tech out until Monday. I really need to get into my email.

F*CK!

You know, I was walking around le gay Tar-zhay (Target) earlier, my mind suddenly focusing in on some kind of fruit pie for dessert. Blueberry - I decided. Target wanted $5 for 4 ounces of berries, so I drove over to Harris Teeter to get those (buy one get one free, kaching!), some strawberries, and some vanilla ice cream to top the cobbler with.

I came home, paid some bills, watched some t.v. When I started culling my recipe pile to figure out what kind of crust I wanted, I realized I DON'T HAVE ANY FRICKIN' SUGAR.

Who runs out of cheap-ass white sugar? NOBODY who cooks or drinks coffee. They always have a back-up bag, even if it's the cheap store-brand stuff they buy "just in case."

I could substitute some with powdered sugar but then my crust won't be as crisp as I like (I like them to have a little chew to them). I don't want to use brown sugar because it'll detract from the fruit tang.

UGGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHHHH!

Back out to the grocery store for a damn 99 cent bag of sugar.

Shh! Maury's on.

Unemployment suits me well. Because I'm pretty easily entertained when I actually have a desire to be entertained, I can go for hours lounging on the sofa watching reruns.

True, I'd rather have a job where I earn enough money that on the weekends I can go to the mall and buy crap, but right now I'm sort of using this time to find a job that I actually want to still be employed in five years from now.

So, I've been pulling up lists of businesses in the surrounding area and scouring thier job listings for anything remotely related to writing or editing (that pays). I've been on all the local and national job boards looking. I've even driven around office parks in the area trying to see what large companies are located near me. I refuse to go into another one-man-shop type environment. Unfortunately, I'm trying to break into a field where I have no network whatsoever.

I've applied for a few entry-level type things, but we'll see. I can only hold my breath so long before I have to go out and do some temp work to pay for baby bibs.

I've learned the hard lesson that no matter how broke you think you are when you're working, you can totally afford to tuck away $100 here and there to have an emergency fund for situations like this. Just a couple thousand dollars could go a long way.

Perhaps my music analysis skills are slipping.

I downloaded a slew of free music through iTunes two weeks ago, and one of the songs was the MC Hammer song, "YAY."

Could someone please explain to me what "I do it like YAY" means?

*deletes from library*

Genius!

Dude, that's awesome. I'd like to know what pregnant woman thought to take the fitted sheet suspenders off her bed and latch them onto her bra (click on "belly ups" at the bottom).

Why didn't I think of that? I know maternity pants have their limitations - they can't fit everyone's belly perfectly. I feel like every time I sit down there's a draft going down my backside. I'd feel a lot less exposed if I had been keeping my roll-tops in place with a little suspender help.