Sunday, January 25
Wednesday, January 21
... About History
Reader, I am many kinds of nerd. I know this. I've accepted it.
I've always been a writing nerd. I've always been a grammar nerd (which I think is really just a subset of writing nerds). I've always been an I-tend-to-fall-off-of-small-vehicles-such-as-jetskis-and-Razr-scooters nerd. Over the years I've also become a random factoid nerd, a Harry Potter nerd, and a Lost nerd (just mere hours to go!).
But to be perfectly honest, Reader, I never considered myself a history nerd, mostly because I always thought history was one of the most boring subjects in school. I understood it, and got decent enough grades, but I was never really invested in it.
In the last few years, however, I've grown to realize that I am, in fact, a history nerd. Just not in the traditional sense. I'm not real big on who was the king and what laws passed when and all that nonsense. But I am very interested in the history of stuff.
I am a material girl living in a material world.
For example: I just came across a penny from 1957. When I first spotted it, lying face-down on the desktop, I instantly felt a little giddy inside. I knew it was a treasure of some kind, because rather than the Lincoln Memorial it had the bold "ONE CENT" text flanked by the wheat tares. I flipped it over to see how old it was - this little penny is in its 52nd year. Amazing, isn't it?
I love when I find old coins like that. I love to think about where it's been. Who's pocket has it jangled around in? What did it buy? Maybe it was lodged in somebody's loafer at Central High School in Little Rock the day the first black students arrived. Maybe Paul McCartney used it to buy a new guitar string before the Beatles rocked Shea Stadium. Maybe Bill Gates used it to buy himself his morning cup of coffee the day the idea for Windows struck him.
This little penny has been around for the moon landing, for the launch of SNL, for the end of the Cold War. This penny was around the Day the Music Died. And yes, while my parents were also around for all of those things, their exact whereabouts aren't as big of a mystery. They are much easier to keep track of than a tiny piece of copper. It could have been anywhere. This penny could have played a significant part in history, and nobody would even know it!
With all the talk lately about the historic-ness of President Obama's election, inauguration, and the start of his term in office, I have to wonder if maybe someday, some other nerd like me will find this little old penny and think to themselves, "Wow! I wonder where this penny was the day that Barack Obama became president?"
So maybe I'm a history nerd after all. But at least I'm not a read-other-peoples'-blogs-and-make-fun-of-their-nerdiness nerd. Those are the worst kind.
I've always been a writing nerd. I've always been a grammar nerd (which I think is really just a subset of writing nerds). I've always been an I-tend-to-fall-off-of-small-vehicles-such-as-jetskis-and-Razr-scooters nerd. Over the years I've also become a random factoid nerd, a Harry Potter nerd, and a Lost nerd (just mere hours to go!).
But to be perfectly honest, Reader, I never considered myself a history nerd, mostly because I always thought history was one of the most boring subjects in school. I understood it, and got decent enough grades, but I was never really invested in it.
In the last few years, however, I've grown to realize that I am, in fact, a history nerd. Just not in the traditional sense. I'm not real big on who was the king and what laws passed when and all that nonsense. But I am very interested in the history of stuff.
I am a material girl living in a material world.
For example: I just came across a penny from 1957. When I first spotted it, lying face-down on the desktop, I instantly felt a little giddy inside. I knew it was a treasure of some kind, because rather than the Lincoln Memorial it had the bold "ONE CENT" text flanked by the wheat tares. I flipped it over to see how old it was - this little penny is in its 52nd year. Amazing, isn't it?
I love when I find old coins like that. I love to think about where it's been. Who's pocket has it jangled around in? What did it buy? Maybe it was lodged in somebody's loafer at Central High School in Little Rock the day the first black students arrived. Maybe Paul McCartney used it to buy a new guitar string before the Beatles rocked Shea Stadium. Maybe Bill Gates used it to buy himself his morning cup of coffee the day the idea for Windows struck him.
This little penny has been around for the moon landing, for the launch of SNL, for the end of the Cold War. This penny was around the Day the Music Died. And yes, while my parents were also around for all of those things, their exact whereabouts aren't as big of a mystery. They are much easier to keep track of than a tiny piece of copper. It could have been anywhere. This penny could have played a significant part in history, and nobody would even know it!
With all the talk lately about the historic-ness of President Obama's election, inauguration, and the start of his term in office, I have to wonder if maybe someday, some other nerd like me will find this little old penny and think to themselves, "Wow! I wonder where this penny was the day that Barack Obama became president?"
So maybe I'm a history nerd after all. But at least I'm not a read-other-peoples'-blogs-and-make-fun-of-their-nerdiness nerd. Those are the worst kind.
Saturday, January 17
... About the Icy Clutch of Fear
Reader, I have a confession to make. Now I know this is silly, and that I'm being entirely irrational, and that my behavior in the past has proven that I'm prone to bouts of paranoia, but I have developed a certain type of phobia that's becoming a bit overwhelming. It keeps me awake at night, and I think it's really beginning to affect my relationships with other people.
I know what you're thinking, Reader, but you're wrong. This isn't about bees.
Seriously.
Not that bees aren't the single most frightening creatures on the planet and some sort of sick and twisted joke from God (this is me not laughing, Big Guy), because they are. But it's wintertime, and the bees are hibernating or migrated south or something, which means that this other fear of mine has taken center stage.
Now don't laugh at me, Reader. I'm only telling you this because I feel we've developed a sort of trust, a safe harbor for our most intimate secrets, and I desperately need to talk to somebody about this.
Sometimes I worry that I am the person they base annoying SNL characters on.
It all started a couple of months ago when Bailey and I were watching "The Soup". On the show, Joel McHale showed a clip of a girl in some reality show who was very very excited to meet some 'famous' person. She was so excited, in fact, that she pinched her eyes shut and squealed about it in such a voice so high-pitched I'm surprised I could hear it at all, all while flapping her hands nonsensically in front of her face as if attempting to cool down her glee.
"I do not understand why girls do that," I said to Bailey.
"Are you kidding me?!" she replied. "You do that all the time!!!!"
I do? Seriously? I had no idea! How could it even be possible that I act like that and never realized it? Then, a couple of days later, I caught myself doing it.
Oh.
My.
Hell.
What's wrong with me?!
Shortly thereafter, Reader, I began to recognize pieces of myself in other annoying TV characters, like Penelope on Saturday Night Live. I mean, I'm not best friends with a tomato and Liza Minelli (one can only dream), but am I always trying to one-up everybody else, or is that just my imagination? I'm sorry if it's true, Reader. I don't mean to be 'that' person. Trust me, the very last thing I want to be is a character played by Kristen Wiig. Amy Poehler, sure. But Kristen Wiig? What have I done to deserve that? What have you done to deserve that?
I'm worried about my future. How far will this go? Will I soon discover that I've unknowingly become a middle-aged squeamishly kinky professor who spends all my free time in a hot tub eating spiced meats with my lovah? Or that I'm a hyperactive Catholic school girl who's bound and determined to make it big in showbusiness?
Am I an ignorant slut?
Part of me feels like I should just lock myself up in a cave somewhere for a few months just to keep myself from becoming an annoying SNL character. But then, I suppose that would be like hibernation, in which case I'd be just like bees. Now that's a scary thought.
I know what you're thinking, Reader, but you're wrong. This isn't about bees.
Seriously.
Not that bees aren't the single most frightening creatures on the planet and some sort of sick and twisted joke from God (this is me not laughing, Big Guy), because they are. But it's wintertime, and the bees are hibernating or migrated south or something, which means that this other fear of mine has taken center stage.
Now don't laugh at me, Reader. I'm only telling you this because I feel we've developed a sort of trust, a safe harbor for our most intimate secrets, and I desperately need to talk to somebody about this.
Sometimes I worry that I am the person they base annoying SNL characters on.
It all started a couple of months ago when Bailey and I were watching "The Soup". On the show, Joel McHale showed a clip of a girl in some reality show who was very very excited to meet some 'famous' person. She was so excited, in fact, that she pinched her eyes shut and squealed about it in such a voice so high-pitched I'm surprised I could hear it at all, all while flapping her hands nonsensically in front of her face as if attempting to cool down her glee.
"I do not understand why girls do that," I said to Bailey.
"Are you kidding me?!" she replied. "You do that all the time!!!!"
I do? Seriously? I had no idea! How could it even be possible that I act like that and never realized it? Then, a couple of days later, I caught myself doing it.
Oh.
My.
Hell.
What's wrong with me?!
Shortly thereafter, Reader, I began to recognize pieces of myself in other annoying TV characters, like Penelope on Saturday Night Live. I mean, I'm not best friends with a tomato and Liza Minelli (one can only dream), but am I always trying to one-up everybody else, or is that just my imagination? I'm sorry if it's true, Reader. I don't mean to be 'that' person. Trust me, the very last thing I want to be is a character played by Kristen Wiig. Amy Poehler, sure. But Kristen Wiig? What have I done to deserve that? What have you done to deserve that?
I'm worried about my future. How far will this go? Will I soon discover that I've unknowingly become a middle-aged squeamishly kinky professor who spends all my free time in a hot tub eating spiced meats with my lovah? Or that I'm a hyperactive Catholic school girl who's bound and determined to make it big in showbusiness?
Am I an ignorant slut?
Part of me feels like I should just lock myself up in a cave somewhere for a few months just to keep myself from becoming an annoying SNL character. But then, I suppose that would be like hibernation, in which case I'd be just like bees. Now that's a scary thought.
Wednesday, January 14
... About Being a Resolutionary
Hello there, Reader! First of all, allow me to apologize for not posting for such a long time. I made a New Year's Resolution to update my blog more often. Clearly, I've deserve this:
But I also made a New Year's Resolution to only FAIL miserably at 3 or fewer of my New Year's Resolutions this year, so I'm only at one for three thus far! Hooray!
I made a lot of resolutions this year. But I did it a little differently than in years past. A long time ago, I read somewhere that people are more likely to accomplish their goals if they write them down. It's something about holding yourself psychologically accountable because having your goal in ink on paper makes it a tangible piece of the fabric of the Universe or something. Well, psychological shmpsychological, I say (or at least I tried to say, but "shmpsychological" is really really really hard to pronounce).
I used to write down my resolutions, but not anymore. I figure if I'm holding myself psychologically accountable for my goals, then I also have to hold myself accountable for not reaching those goals. And I'm sure you can imagine, Reader, what a strenuous task that would be.
So this year, instead of setting myself up for FAILure by writing down very specific ideas for self-improvement, I decided to just have a few flexible resolutions that I could adapt as I see fit throughout the year. For example, I made a resolution to set aside an hour or so every day to work on some of my neglected writing projects. So far, two weeks into the year, I've done that exactly once.
But rather than condemn myself to FAILure status, Reader, I choose to see the WIN side of things. After realizing the impossibility of the task at hand, I've altered the goal slightly so that now, instead of spending an hour a day writing, I've gone to see more movies. Yea, me! See how well this is going to work?
So I'm pretty confident that with my new New Year's Resolution system set firmly in place, 2009 is going to be a banner year. And I'll be sure to tell you all about it, because I'm going to be a lot better about updating this blog!
Well, that, or I'm going to always remember to replace the Handi-Wipe in my wallet. But either way, Reader, you
But I also made a New Year's Resolution to only FAIL miserably at 3 or fewer of my New Year's Resolutions this year, so I'm only at one for three thus far! Hooray!
I made a lot of resolutions this year. But I did it a little differently than in years past. A long time ago, I read somewhere that people are more likely to accomplish their goals if they write them down. It's something about holding yourself psychologically accountable because having your goal in ink on paper makes it a tangible piece of the fabric of the Universe or something. Well, psychological shmpsychological, I say (or at least I tried to say, but "shmpsychological" is really really really hard to pronounce).
I used to write down my resolutions, but not anymore. I figure if I'm holding myself psychologically accountable for my goals, then I also have to hold myself accountable for not reaching those goals. And I'm sure you can imagine, Reader, what a strenuous task that would be.
So this year, instead of setting myself up for FAILure by writing down very specific ideas for self-improvement, I decided to just have a few flexible resolutions that I could adapt as I see fit throughout the year. For example, I made a resolution to set aside an hour or so every day to work on some of my neglected writing projects. So far, two weeks into the year, I've done that exactly once.
But rather than condemn myself to FAILure status, Reader, I choose to see the WIN side of things. After realizing the impossibility of the task at hand, I've altered the goal slightly so that now, instead of spending an hour a day writing, I've gone to see more movies. Yea, me! See how well this is going to work?
So I'm pretty confident that with my new New Year's Resolution system set firmly in place, 2009 is going to be a banner year. And I'll be sure to tell you all about it, because I'm going to be a lot better about updating this blog!
Well, that, or I'm going to always remember to replace the Handi-Wipe in my wallet. But either way, Reader, you
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