one. last night i cast votes for the people's choice awards. i've never done this. i probably won't do it again. why? because in the favorite movie category, the choices included the croods, despicable me two, fast and furious six and monsters university. the best movies to be released this year were gangster squad and the way way back. and i had to write them in. also, the categories include things like favorite tv bromance and favorite music fan following. FAVORITE MUSIC FAN FOLLOWING? why? WHY?

two. i've finally hopped on the elementary bandwagon. that show's pretty cool.

three. john corbett's voice annoys me. you kind of make me not want to eat at applebee's, sir. so that ad campaign? not so much.

four. in so many ways, i can identify with sheldon from the big bang theory. see? there's a good example right there. i felt compelled to add that bit about the television show. as if there was a need to specify this. because who doesn't know who sheldon is? i mean, you google sheldon and the top five results are, in order: sheldon cooper - wikipedia, the free encyclopedia; sheldon isd / overview; sheldon comic strip - daily webcomic by dave kallett; sheldon cooper (character) - imdb; jim parsons - imdb.

the best example of this is how i react when approaching my spot at the bar. if someone's sitting there, i mumble a curse (usually goddammit!) and sneer at the bastard (or wench), pick a seat nearest to my spot, sneer some more, heft my darth vader backpack on to the granite bar top, sit, grumble at the staff when they ask what i want to drink. after five minutes or so, i acclimate enough to be cordial. and as soon as the bastard (or wench) has vacated the premises, i reclaim my spot.

if the spot's empty, i examine the proximity of the bar stools to mine and shift them (usually the whole line) so that they are evenly spaced so that no one encroaches on my space. and then i survey the stool in my spot because they're not all the same. and i like the ones that have the aged leather instead of the smooth. so i have to switch them if it's not right.

and yeah, the people gawk at me. and yeah, i know it's weird. but i can't really help it. it has to be this way.

five. yesterday was one of those days that started out troublesome. i didn't want to get up off the couch. and i was almost late for work because of it. but then, when i got there, every customer i met was kind to me. and one of them spent lots of money. LOTS of money. because she pretty much said yes to everything i suggested. and i talked her into opening up a store charge account, which means i'll get her to spend more money. and my boss that night gave me candy.

six. i have felt ugly all day. except for that second i was parked at the gas station filling up phineas' tank when i looked in the mirror and thought i like the shape of my mouth, and my eye make-up (navy eyeliner and black mascara) looks alright. but i'm sitting at this bar, and i'm recalling times i was told i wasn't pretty, and there are all these beautiful people around me, and it really sucks, having this face. it really, really sucks. and there's not a damned thing i can do about that. and then one of those beautiful couples has to sit down next to me. you know the ones, the dark-haired, handsome man with the beautiful blonde. the classy sort. not barbie and her dark-haired ken. but that other kind. like jimmy smits and teri polo in the last season of the west wing. that kind. it's not the best example. but it's the first one that came to mind.

seven. i don't like dark beer. and guinness? GROSS.

eight. i used to hate that i didn't have a sister. like when i was ten and didn't have any girl friends. i'd always thought that if i'd had a sister, it would've made it alright that i was friendless. but then i got older. and i've learned how catty and nasty a gal can be. and really? i'm glad i don't have a sister. really, really glad. i would've had to share a bathroom with her. hell, i probably would've had to share a room. and that would've sucked. so much.

nine. not that brothers are that much better. most times they drive me bat-shit crazy.

ten. i want the red sox to win this series.

eleven. i don't understand why people have to fake kindness. it's not kind when it's phony.

twelve. i just confused james ingram's just once with glenn medeiros' nothing's gonna change my love for you. why am i listening to either of these atrocities? because this is the music pappadeaux's plays. why am i confusing one crap song with another? i don't know. do i get points at least for realizing that they both suck? because i know how sad it is that i remember either existed. maybe yall can overlook that.

thirteen. these are the highest-grossing films of the year to date. of the first hundred listed, i have seen eight in theaters. of those eight, i've only loved two. and i've only been compelled to see one more than once. this from the girl who saw star trek twenty times and pirates of the caribbean: the curse of the black pearl eighteen. in the the theaters. this cinematic year, in my humble, opinion sucked ASS. i am unthrilled.

last year wasn't that much better. i paid to see nine in the theaters. i loved six. i watched three at least twice.

this is the last year of film that i liked. i watched seventeen films in the theater. i loved eight of them. i watched seven of them at least twice.  

this year was pretty good, too. and this one, it's pretty near perfect--as close as can be expected, anyway. hey hollywood? can i have more years like these please? and when i say like these, i don't mean sequels to or regurgitations of films released in those years. i just thought i should throw that out there.

fourteen. seven american cities i want to visit: monterey, california; beaufort, north carolina; boston, massachusetts; savannah, georgia; charleston, south carolina; san francisco, california; lahaina, hawaii.

fifteen. seven international destinations: athens, greece; vienna, austria; sydney, australia (HELLO, ERIN!), edinburgh, scotland; one of those seychelles islands (just give me a good beach and some beer); dublin, ireland; tokyo, japan.

sixteen. seven things i'd buy: a) personal training sessions (because this seems to be the only thing that gets me to the gym on a regular basis); b) a better wardrobe (once i got my fat ass back into a somewhat respectable shape--to be read a size eight. six seems so impractical. i've only been able to maintain that for a couple of months. but eight... eight i could do. should do.); c) i'd get phineas refurbished (he's got body issues, and his interior? he is in serious need of some new upholstery because i've trashed him much too often); d) a week's vacation in monterey, california; e) a new mac; f) new aggies t-shirts ; g) new hard rock cafe t-shirts.

seventeen. i'm stranded on a desert island and can bring one person, one book and one food item (that never goes bad and is in constant supply) or plant. they are: robert downey, jr; eleanor and park by rainbow rowell; chicken spaghetti.

eighteen. if i didn't have to work, i would sit on my ass and watch movies all day while tinkering with this here blog.

nineteen. five sources of inspiration: my victorian literature professor; tragedy; stories; rejection; chaos.

twenty. i want to play settlers of catan. 

twenty-one. five superpowers i'd like to have: telekinesis; invisibility; the ability to apperate; power mimicry or absorption; regeneration.

twenty-two. if i had amnesty for a twenty-four hour period and could break any law, i'd break into skywalker ranch and steal a ton of star wars paraphernalia.

twenty-three. if i could have a candid conversation with anyone dead or alive, i'd want to talk to my older brother.

twenty-four. five favorite desserts: blue bell ice cream; paula deen's bananas foster bread pudding; pappadeaux's bayou city cake; angel food cake with strawberries and cool whip; chocolate pudding.

twenty-five. i don't like mangos.

food for thought

failure at some point in everyone's life is inevitable,
but giving up is unforgivable

catherine biden

in september of last year, i attended a blogging conference in dallas, texas. it's about a four-hour drive from here--a northern suburb of houston--to there. i'd meant to leave at about ten that morning so that i could get to the hotel around two, get checked in, wander a bit and make myself presentable for cocktails. but my car's stereo decided at eleven, when i was finally ready to hit the road, to stop working. and it took two hours and a couple of hundred bucks to get it replaced.

i liked the display on my old stereo better. i'm not one of those gals who has to have the top of the line in electronics. my iphone, for example, is two years old--a four with three-g service. and yes, sometimes i wish it were a little faster, but it does what i need it to do. it works. when it stops working, i'll replace it.

my car stereo? i'd been using the factory one for seven years. the new one? it's got one of those digital displays that flashes the name of the song being played. but when i'm listening to a cd, more often than not, it can't display the title. instead it reads: FAILURE.

i see this a lot in my daily travels. i've thought this a lot in my life. i am a forty-year-old, single, childless woman who resides with her parents because she can't support herself.

in the past year, i've gone on two dates. two. with different guys. the first? he showed up forty-five minutes late and split the check. the second? he wined and dined me. swept me off my feet. blindsided me. and then he disappeared.

i work a part-time gig as a sales associate. when i find the confidence to apply for better employment, i'm denied the possibility of an interview. i don't even get a reply for having submitted my resume. but these, ultimately, these are not the things that concern me the most.

maybe i've given up when it comes to love and life. but my worth, my talents... they're tied to my craft.

i sat here at this bar this morning with a copy of my manuscript--a collection of personal essays, many of which have been posted here--and an issue of writer's digest that featured agents seeking new authors. i looked over the list. i googled how to write a book proposal for a nonfiction piece.

and my heart sank. because i wondered why anyone would care about this. my blog's not got a great following. i don't get thousands of page views per day or dozens of comments on each post. and these are the sorts of things that would convince an agent to read more than a few pages of your work.

i shut off my laptop. i closed the magazine and the binder containing my manuscript. and then i got out my pen and paper. and i wrote.

because this is what i do. this is what brings me happiness. this is where i succeed.

have you got a quote you love? something that's touched you?
made you laugh? gave you strength? i'm looking to do a series
come november and am in need of guest posts.
the more the merrier. email me if interested.

an explication of the comedy of errors

ABBESS:   And thereof came it that the man was mad. 

The venom clamors of a jealous woman 

Poisons more deadly than a mad dog’s tooth. 

It seems his sleeps were hindered by thy railing,

And thereof comes it that his head is light.

Thou sayst his meat was sauced with thy upbraidings;

Unquiet meals make ill digestions;

Thereof the raging fire of fever bred.

And what’s a fever but a fit of madness?

The Comedy of Errors (5.1.68-76) 

By using eloquent imagery, orderly structure, and kindness, the abbess reprimands Adriana’s behavior and offers advice. The use of alliteration, assonance, consonance, and metaphor furthers character development, emphasizes the advice, and promotes comedy.

The line, “And thereof came it that the man was mad.” (5.1.68), constructed primarily of monosyllabic words, gains Adriana’s attention because of its simplicity. The abbess believes Adriana’s conflict requires a simple remedy. The shortness of “a” in most words alludes to the abbess’ disapproval of Adriana’s behavior. The repetition of “eth” softens the line, while the resonance of “m” lengthens it and lends it musicality.

The abbess equates Adriana’s jealousy to poison in, “The venom clamors of a jealous woman” (5.1.69). The “s” hisses this comparison, suggesting Adriana’s behavior is vile as a snake’s. The nasality of “n” and “m” draws out the analogy. The repetition of schwa “e” softens it, as though the abbess tries not to offend.

The abbess builds upon the previous line by likening Adriana’s jealousy to “Poisons more deadly than a mad dog’s tooth.” (5.1.70). In making this comparison, she says Adriana has made herself sick with jealousy and, like the rabid dog’s bite, she’s made her husband sick with it, as well. The diphthong in “Poisons” accents the first syllable, holding Adriana’s attention. The resonance of “m” and “n” lengthens the line, allowing the previous to blend into the next. The “d” thuds sharply, as though the abbess thinks Adriana’s hard head needs sense knocked into it.

In, “It seems his sleeps were hindered by thy railing,” (5.1.71), the abbess reiterates one of Adriana’s complaints, offering a reason for her husband’s mindlessness. The shortness of “i” and the length of “e” depict a restless night’s sleep. The “h” and “s” hiss throughout, typifying Adriana’s behavior and the abbess’ disapproval. The diphthong in “by” and “thy”, in such close proximity, emphasize Adriana’s “railing”, proving Adriana has some fault in the matter. These contribute to the image of her husband lying in their bed, trying to sleep, and Adriana standing beside him, “railing”.

The abbess strengthens her argument in, “And thereof comes it that his head is light.” (5.1.72). Most of the words are monosyllabic, again establishing the abbess’ hold on Adriana’s attention because of their simplicity. Despite the presence of “h” and “s”, it lacks the unpleasantness of the previous line. The words flow into each other smoothly. The repetition of “t” gives the line a gentle chiding effect.

The abbess addresses Adriana’s next complaint in, “Thou sayst his meat was sauced with thy upbraidings;” (5.1.73), comparing Adriana’s jealousy to a venomous sauce, which sickens, as opposed to nourishes. The hiss delivers the line more eloquently. The thudding of “b” and “d”, the resonance of “ng”, the length of “upbraidings”, demands Adriana’s attention; its short “u” hints at the abbess’ disapproval. Each defines the image of Adriana’s husband sitting at the table, trying to eat, with Adriana sitting opposite, “upbraiding” him.

The abbess impacts this image by adding, “Unquiet meals make ill digestions;” (5.1.74). She reiterates the importance of providing proper nourishment; she insists meals full of resentment and anger make him ill. The short “u” in “unquiet”, muttering its disapproval, the sharp knocking of “q”, followed by the diphthong, and the gentle chiding in “t”, add significant weight. The resonance of “m” lengthens the line; the sharpness of the diphthong in the first syllable of “digestions” and the hiss of “s” command attention, making the previous metaphor more vivid.

The following line, “Thereof the raging fire of fever bred.” (5.1.75), furthers the image. One imagines a fire crackling in the hearth next to the dinner table. One hears the crackle in the repetition of “f”. The abbess likens Adriana’s “upbraidings” to the fire, making her husband unhealthier by causing him physical discomfort.

She completes the speech with a question, “And what’s a fever but a fit of madness?” (5.1.76), in hopes Adriana will assimilate the advice and see the solution. The repetition of “f” continues, allowing the sentiments of the previous lines to linger. The use of the word “madness” circles back to the beginning. Initially, the man is mad. Conclusively, the situation is and the abbess earnestly provides a remedy to cure that madness. She concocts that remedy by using imagery and kindness. In structuring her advice around each of Adriana’s concerns, she uses maturity and wisdom to teach Adriana how to be a subservient, mature wife. Her earnestness in assisting Adriana heightens the comedy of the play, because neither Adriana nor the abbess fully understands the situation. The advice, though good, will do nothing to solve the problem, thus making The Comedy of Errors a truly comical play.

makeovers at the beauty counter of happiness

why i read it: because it's a tiny book (not teeny tiny like the last one, but the size that's also often found in the cashwrap line). because i'm on that sentiment quest.

what i liked: my grandfather sold movie magazines in his stationery store. he let me read them for free if didn't get them dirty.

reading about lana turner's life was a lot more interesting than reading about pocahontas in school (p. 41).

when i ask olivia how's school, she says, "fine."

she's much more specific when we go shopping. she'll try on a pair of jeans, make a face in the mirror, and say, "gross. they stick out. the pockets suck. nobody wears this kind."

"you know," i often will say, "when i was your age, i thought i looked awful in everything. but when i look back now..."

before i finish the sentence, olivia gets that glazed look in her eyes she always gets whenever i start a sentence with, "when i was your age."

she must have learned that from my mother (p. 45).

dear olivia,

you probably won't understand much about this letter, but since i'm never going to send it to you, that's all right.

i just got off the phone with your mother. i can tell from her voice that she's mad at me.

it always amazes me how little influence i have on making her happy, and how much influence i have on making her unhappy.

i was watching a television program this morning and a famous psychologist was telling everybody that happiness is a state of mind. i haven't a clue as to how to drive to that state.

but whenever i'm sad, i think of you--and then i smile. maybe that psychologist knew something after all (p. 50).

the summer i was thirteen, eileen ford, the manager of the ford model agency, had a radio program on saturdays at one o'clock on which she'd reveal the beauty secrets of famous models.

listeners could write her letters about their beauty problems, and she'd pick some to answer on the air. she wouldn't use the person's name if she read their letter. i wrote her a letter.

one saturday, i was eating a can of franco-american spaghetti and listening to her program when she read a letter about someone with all my beauty problems: bitten nails, shiny nose, stringy hair, flat-chested, big feet, bony knees, buck teeth, near-sighted, and shy.

i got so nervous, i ran out of the kitchen. a minute later, i went back to listen. by then, she was reading somebody else's problems.

i always wondered if my life would have turned out differently if i'd heard her advice (p. 54).

i've always checked out other women. i do it on movie lines, at shoprite, in mcdonald's. i think to myself:

that's the wrong hairstyle for her.

doesn't that woman have a full-length mirror at home?

oh, blondie, you need your roots done.

those shoes have seen too many rainy days.

dangling rhinestone earrings don't go with sneakers.

nobody will take you seriously with those nails.

hey, missy, it's time to call jenny craig.

no one looks good in that color .

it's all i can do to stop myself from walking over to a total stranger and saying, "honey, lose the horizontal stripes" (p. 82). [that color? she means burnt orange, yall... i'm just saying]

"you see someone on the street and essentially what you notice about them is the flaw" (diane arbus--p. 83)

once i dreamed i was in a fancy mall. it was probably the short hills mall in new jersey. the stores were all boutiques selling designer body parts.

i charged a pair of manolo blanik feet, a chanel chin, and a perfectly matched set of boobs designed by vera wang exclusively for me. on my way out, i picked up a versace midriff on sale. for the first time in my life, i was finally perfect. 

when i got home, my husband took one look at the bill and returned me (p. 92).

no one really cares how you look when your get older anyway, as long as you close your mouth when you chew and don't drool.

but every few years somebody does research and once again discovers that beautiful people have an advantage in life, taller people get better jobs, thinner people are more successful.

even though i know better, i still fuss with eyeliners, blow dryers, and diets, hoping i'll become become better looking, taller, thinner, and happier.

who lives without contradictions? but who wants to live without hope? (p. 105).

what sucked: for all the things i liked, and it looks like the number was a lot, the book overall was just kind of blah.

having said all that: the first third of it sucked a whole lot more than the last third.

the wit and wisdom of mark twain

why i wanted to read it: because it's a teeny tiny book. one of those little gift books you see on the spinner racks while standing in line to make a purchase. because i'm on a quest for good sentiment.

what i liked: a southerner talks like music (from life on the mississippi).

shut the door. not that it lets in the cold, but that it lets out the cozyness (from notebook).

training is everything. the peach was once a bitter almond; cauliflower is nothing but cabbage with a college education (from pudd'nhead wilson's calendar).

"classic." a book which people praise and don't read (from pudd'nhead wilson's new calendar).

you can find in a text whatever you bring if you will stand between it and the mirror of your imagination. you may not see your ears, but they are there (from "a fable").

thunder is good. thunder is impressive. but it is lightning that does the work (from a letter to an unidentified person [1908]). 

we should be careful to get out of an experience only the wisdom that is in it--and stop there; lest we be like the cat that sits down on a hot stove-lid. she will never sit down on a hot stove-lid again--and that is well; but also she will never sit down on a cold one anymore (from pudd'nhead wilson's new calendar).

against the assault of laughter, nothing can stand (from the mysterious stranger).

what sucked: nothing really. for little bitty gift books, i kind of liked this one. and that says quite a bit, because usually, i think they're pretty stupid.

having said all that: it's not a bad one to give, if you can find it (it's been in my mother's shoebox of sentiments for i don't know how long). but here's the isbn if you want to try to locate it: 0-89471-984-x.

random quarter

one. every time i tell myself eating ice cream isn't that big of a deal, that i'll just have a little, a teeny tiny bowl (as in three soup spoonfuls of blue bell's mint chocolate chip paired with two soup spoonfuls of their rocky mountain road), i am reminded of the fact that while my tummy loves the stuff, my noggin does not. how, you ask? well, three spoonfuls in, i sort of choke on the stuff, and then i get this hellish pain in my head (not because i've eaten too much of it too quickly... not brain freeze. it's more like a brain rebellion), and then i sneeze. and it's not a little bitty sneeze. it's one of those sneezes that doubles you over and you feel like your face is going to explode. i really shouldn't touch the stuff. but it's blue bell, goddamnit. and i'm a texan, goshdangit. i'm SUPPOSED to eat this stuff. it's like a dietary staple.

two. the home renovation project that was supposed to take three weeks (i'm guessing one for the carpentry, one for the painting and one for the carpet installation and finishing touches) has taken at least twice that long. at least. i want to say it began the first week of august. we're in the last week of september. and while i am not in love with the majority of the choices for this particular room (which was originally my older brother's--and i am aware that perhaps my lack of enthusiasm for the new decor is because we're jacking with a room that i'd rather not change too much, even though it stopped being his room a very long time ago), i am doing my damnedest to focus on what i do like: more room, a bigger window, a bigger refrigerator for my canned, carbonated, caffeinated beverages and, very soon (within the next few days, supposedly) there will be a fifty inch television to keep me company up here. it's just the chair my parents have chosen for the desk is NOT, i repeat NOT comfortable. too much cushion in the center so you don't really sink into it or whatever, and the arms are ridiculously low. also the office walls are GRAY, and i am so not a fan of gray.

three. which somehow made me think of sally fields in steel magnolias: it's repulsive! it's got gray icing! i can't even begin to think how you make gray icing.

four. i was not thrilled with either of the season premiers for the ncis shows tuesday night. VERY, VERY disappointing, cbs. whiskey tango foxtrot, indeed. all summer i've been jonesing for september to roll around for three reasons: a cooler climate, aggie football and tony/ziva and kensi/deeks (more kensi and deeks, though, than tony and ziva. i like tony better than deeks. but i like kensi with deeks better than i like tony with ziva. mostly because on the night each of the boys were to kiss the girls, deeks planted one on kensi's mouth and tony did the STUPID, PANSY smooch on the forehead. LAME.)

five. i was also not so thrilled with the first night of the blind auditions on the voice. the second one was better. i loved holly henry. she made me cry. her performance was perfect. but really, i kind of liked that she's shy and secretive. reminded me a little bit of me.

six. i've been going on design appointments with our specialist. it's been fun, doing this. and i really like learning new things and helping her out with her work.

seven. my mom bought me a green and navy gingham blazer the other day. from the men's department. at steinmart. we were hunting for things for the office, and on our way out, we passed a four-way that had them on display. and i liked the check and the lining inside (navy and brown stripe). and so we got me one. and it, paired with a white v-necked t-shirt, boot cut jeans and my three-inch heeled tobacco leather boots, with my hair in a tail and my face painted and my great uncle's wooden heart hanging around my neck... i'm quite comfortable in a get-up like that. i was quite comfortable in a get-up like that in my early twenties, too. and i can't, for the life of me, figure out what possessed me to give away the navy and brown men's suit jackets i'd bought way back then. cause i sure as shit wish i had them now.

eight. not that they'd fit me. i weigh about fifty pounds more now. so i guess it doesn't matter that i didn't hang on to'm.

nine. those people i told you about, the ones for whom i care so dearly, their stories are still being written. and i am, so far, not liking the way things are going so much. so if yall have been praying, please continue to do so.

ten. i finally, FINALLY got to see depeche mode. i have loved that band (though not as much in the past decade as i did in my youth and early twenties) for decades. and i am so glad i got to see them live. they sounded awesome.

eleven. i am using my mother's computer at the moment. (mine needs to be charged, and i've been having trouble lately with iphoto, which is kind of irritating me). it's much quieter up here than it is in the rest of the house. sometimes i relish that. sometimes, it's too quiet. maybe because i've just acquainted myself with yet another one of those chapters in one of those stories i wish i didn't have to read but must. maybe it's the emptiness of the room. i don't know. i don't want to be downstairs right now. i don't want to watch blue bloods. so NOT the tom selleck fan. anyway. i've been thinking, i wish i had some music up here. and then i remembered... i put itunes on my mother's computer a very long time ago. duh.

twelve. i got my hair cut a couple of weeks ago. it needed it. BADLY. but i'm having to adjust to the length again. my stylist cut about six inches off. probably two more than i'd intended. it'll grow. it will grow. but oh, so slowly.

thirteen. i wish i could consider all the possibilities before opening my mouth or veering off on some tear.

fourteen. i also wish i had greatness within me. or at least a good bit of goodness. nothing phenomenal. something more like eleanor. or hazel, who, according to augustus, walks softly. the world is definitely a better place for her having lived. i want to know it's a better place for my having done so.

fifteen. i was shopping in hobby lobby today, hunting for more things for the office. and i found a sign that said do what you love. the thing is, i don't know that i LOVE anything anymore. certain people, yes. absolutely. certain people, like the wonder twins, are necessities in my life, and two seconds with them heal my heart so much better than anything else could possibly do. aggie football, blue bell, dr. pepper, coca cola, depeche mode... that stuff, sure. but i don't feel compelled to do anything with myself. never have, really. my life's been a story of just get through this day. do just enough. i wish i knew how to light a fire in me.

sixteen. one of the things my father often says to us is you're a gentleman (or in my case, lady) and a scholar. and today, while scouting hobby lobby's merch, i found a thin, metal decorative wall plate in maroon, white, gold and black that said gentleman and scholar. i got it to go over his desk. (also, i had no idea this came from the catcher and the rye. i had never heard anyone say this but my dad. according to my mother, a lot of people say this. a lot of your people, i said. not a lot of my people. still, i feel a little silly now, because i'd exclaimed to a hobby lobby clerk how i'd never heard anyone say that but him. as in ranted for like five minutes about how cool it was that they had that plaque. crazy, right here.) (also, oddly enough, if you search that phrase and pair it with hobby lobby, the image results include bart simpson, sherlock holmes and watson, paul mccartney, gollum and a picture of my name handwritten, among other things. go figure.)

seventeen. my mom sent me to buy sirloin to make pepper steak for dinner. i had to ask other shoppers to help me.

eighteen. i've been really bad about commenting on others' blogs lately. or replying to comments yall leave here. but i am reading. and i am appreciating what you write. i can't promise i'll do better about acknowledging your words, but i do want yall to know that i AM reading them. and i am grateful.

nineteen. i feel really, really old. not in my brain. but in my body. so far, forty sucks ass. i've never had a face that needed cosmetics. my skin, probably because of all those years of swimming and the absence of cosmetics, hasn't had the blemishes that demand i cover them up. but i put on make-up for one of those design appointments a few weeks ago, and my coworkers said that i looked much younger for having made the effort. SWELL. so now i feel like i HAVE to bother with this crap. and i'd really rather not.

twenty. there are WAY TOO MANY people living in this town. i'm tempted to move to the country.

twenty-one. i've been having crazy dreams lately. like one of my younger brother's friends died. or like the grandson of one of my mother's friends did because i hadn't been his designated driver. and even if i take benadryl, i'm waking up six hours after i've crashed, which sucks. i want to conk out. i want good rest. i wish i could dream more. not the kind you do in your sleep. but the kind you do in your day. the kind that helps you move through it. the kind that helps you be you.

twenty-two. i want to find books as enjoyable as eleanor and park, the fault in our stars, the language of flowers, right before your eyes and the time traveler's wife. and i'm kind of irritated that i can't.

twenty-three. i don't know how many more rq posts i've got in me.

twenty-four. those people who drink gallons of water in a day... how DO you do that?

twenty-five. zinnias! for minn.

how to write an essay

you should treat an essay like a mathematical equation and less like a blank canvas upon which you've to heap five hundred empty words.

it's simple, really.

you need approximately twenty-five sentences. the length of those sentences, of course, will vary based on what it is needing to be said. and this number is assuming you don't have to include quotations.

twenty-five sentences divided into five paragraphs supporting a sharp, succinct thesis statement.

for example, you are assigned the subject of cinematic villains.

the best villain in film is darth vader because he craves adventure and excitement instead of peace and stability, he is mastered by his emotions rather than being the master of them, and he is an intimidating and ruthless leader.

thesis statement (the best villain in film is darth vader) with three reasons (craves adventure and excitement, mastered by his emotions and poor leadership skills) supporting it.

five paragraphs: introduction, topic a, topic b, topic c and conclusion.

INTRODUCTION. five sentences. you start broad. the only place for bullshit is in your introduction and conclusion. ONE: for decades the cinematic industry has entertained us with tales of blah blah blah. TWO: in film we have seen the exploits and evil of psychopaths like dr. hannibal lecter and the joker. THREE: we've also seen the likes of criminal masterminds and mobsters and blah blah blah such as this dude and that dude. FOUR: but none have been so memorable as the sith lord imagined by george lucas in the star wars saga. FIVE: the best villain in film is darth vader because he blah blah blah.

TOPIC A: one reason why darth vader is so awful is because he seeks to please himself through grand adventures and thrilling escapades.

and then you give three solid examples to support this. you've got six films of horrible decision making from which to choose: he's a child who boasts about how awesome he is at constructing things (his droids, his podracer); instead of listening to obi-wan and qui-gon jinn he goes and marries queen amidala; he has delusions of grandeur which the emperor encourages...

one sentence for each of those examples. and you don't need to quote anything (unless your professor/teacher insists that you do so, in which case they make this website called the internet movie database, which'll have a shit ton of quotes stored for you). if the prof says you have to have quotes, then you should use at least one for each example.

TOPIC B: his penchant for seeking to fulfill his own desires is one way his emotions so often control his actions. he also does... (find three other ways his emotions get the better of him... like when he kills obi-wan or slaughters a village upon learning of his mother's death).

TOPIC C: he taunts those who should revere him with his power and prowess rather than leading them. if an officer or a stormtrooper does not do as he's told, vader simply holds up a thumb and forefinger and chokes that man to death. blah blah blah.

CONCLUSION: regurgitation of thesis statement. four more sentences of bullshit going from the specific to the general.

and you're done.

the only font you use is times new roman. ten or twelve point (preferably twelve, unless the prof says otherwise). single-side it. double-space it. left-align it. the tab key is not your friend; if you want an indentation for the first line, there's a way to format your paragraphs so that it automatically does this. be verbs (AM, IS, ARE, WAS, WERE, BE, BEING, BEEN), adverbs (those things that end in -LY) and prepositional phrases are not your friends, either. they are WEAK words and do not belong in an essay. use them sparingly. do not rely solely on spellcheck for editing. and, most important, your professor is not stupid; don't try to outsmart him. you can't.

the statistical probability of love at first sight

why i wanted to read it: the title. and that after the title and dedication pages, there's a quote from charles dickens' our mutual friend: and o there are days in this life worth life and worth death. and the majority of it takes place in london. so... a quote from my favorite book and a setting in my favorite city. this is the book i'd intended to read a while back but couldn't find it.

what i liked: and so, with nothing more to be done, hadley finally makes her way out through the sliding doors and into the gray london haze, feeling satisfied at least that the sun didn't have the audacity to show up this morning.

i liked the characters. i liked the conflicts the author gave them. and there were a handful of instances where i considered marking a page that had a sentence worth mentioning but ended up deciding against it at the time that i wish i had marked.

i'd meant to go back and find them. i'd every intention of doing this. but you know what they say about intentions...

and now my library book's overdue, so that's all you get.

what sucked: sometimes the author takes way too long to tell a story. she drags out the inconsequential shit and practically skims over or skirts around the good stuff.

having said all that: i liked it much better than the last book i read by ms. smith. but it's nothing stellar.

random quarter

i snagged this shot (diego velasquez' arachne) here.

one. i have discovered that pinot grigio's not such a bad thing. and my lovely pappadeaux's barstaff probably like me a little bit better for ordering a glass of that rather than the martini--it costs a little more and is easier to fix. and one glass works wonders. everybody's happy.

two. i am not so eager to watch aggie football this season. mr. manziel and mr. miller... i'm kind of ashamed of yall. no. not kind of. i am. you're making my boys look bad. you're making people think bad things about the fine institution that is texas a&m university. i am unthrilled.

three. i have read twenty-seven new books this year. my friend swissy has given me several to peruse. i checked out a bunch at the library last night. i kind of figured reading a hundred books wouldn't be that hard, given that i read so much. but i'm struggling to find titles that interest me. suggestions are supremely welcome.

four. i didn't see man of steel. but apparently one of my little brother's friends was an extra in it or something. and one of my friend's posted a trailer to the sequel on her facebook page, and so now i'm kind of curious. should i bother?

five. i can never remember, when i go to buy more pens, if i like the five-tenths or the seventh-tenths. i bought a batch of the fives the other day. i do not like them.

six. sometimes being single really, really sucks. i should be used to this by now. but every now and then, it kinda knocks me on my ass. it did this last night. and the older i get, more effort's required to right myself or whatever.

seven. i really wanna go back to london. like. now.

eight. some chick just asked her server for a side of simple syrup. i'm a little awed by some of these customer requests.

nine. i'm irritated. i hadn't renewed my membership on the stupid dating website, because really, i'm never that impressed with it. but i got four emails in matter of days (and i never really get that much notice on there... i'm forty, and i don't live in houston proper), and so, against my friends' advice, i stupidly forked over the funds to see who these dudes were. and they're just like all the other dudes on there. i am such a goddamned romantic sucker. ugh. so gullible. so stupid. so when it expires, i am definitely disappearing from that corner of the world. and to my friends who counseled against it, no saying i told you so. i'm already saying that to myself.

ten. one of the bussers thinks a prius is a sports car. i weep for the next generation.

eleven. there's baseball on every television screen. yay. usually, i look to the screen when i'm in need of distraction. at least it's red sox. that makes it a little better.

twelve. i'm very, very tired of working retail. i'm very, very tired of not being able to polish off these last few scenes. i'm very, very, VERY tired of being tired of this crap. so if you're the praying sort, i need some inspiration, some luck and some faith.

thirteen. i don't like beer.

fourteen. the last time i got a sinus infection, i toughed it out without going to the doctor, and for the first time in more than a decade, that actually worked. in the past, thanks to smoking, sinus infections always turned into bronchitis. and i'd wait a couple of weeks, and it wouldn't get better so i'd finally go and get my shots and my drugs, and in a week or so, i'd feel better. but this time (mostly because i didn't feel like paying eighty bucks for a shot and some drugs), i didn't go. (this was a couple months ago, wen i complained of sounding like the aflac duck.) and you know, what? i got better. it was actually kind of cool.

fifteen. i've never smoked pot. once upon a time there were a ton of things i'd said i would never do. this was one of them. but of course, i got older and weaker, and the list of things i swore i would never do has gotten to be quite short. but that one's still on there.

sixteen. i've had more adult beverages in this year than i've had in my life. this could be why i weigh more now than i've ever weighed in my life.

seventeen. i've never been to a casino, either. but this isn't on the short list of never-dos.

eighteen. there's some movie coming out where sandra bullock's adrift in outerspace. i marvel at the things hollywood comes up with nowadays. whatever happened to a good, old fashioned love story?

nineteen. so. greek mythology. one of the shuckers suggested i talk about that. and i do love it. one of my favorite myths is about arachne, a proud and vain woman who boasted that she could weave better than athena, who overheard her bragging and challenged her to a duel of sorts. each were to weave a tapestry to see who was better. arachne wove one that depicted all the horrible things the gods had done. athena's showed all of the good things. athena won. she turned arachne into a spider. still capable of weaving, but nothing with any permanence. the shucker could only name three of the twelve gods and goddesses: zeus, poseidon, hades, apollo, ares, hephaestus, hera, athena, aphrodite, artemis and demeter. normally i could rattle all of them off without having to google it, but i couldn't remember if hermes was the sixth of the male gods or if it was dionysus (some would say he was more important than hermes. i would agree, but then, communication should trump inebriation, i guess.), and i'd neglected to include demeter. which is odd to me, because i also like the story about how hades took persephone as his wife and how demeter coped with her daughter's absence.

twenty. i'm usually pretty vigilant about checking the ingredients of things like lotions and conditioners. and detanglers. but today, i was in a hurry to get ready for work and borrowed the detangler my mom bought for the twinkies when we have them over. and got a rash on my face and neck because of it. also my left eye's been irritated with me all day. all because i didn't want to yank half my hair out brushing it after my shower.

twenty-one. i kind of like bowties. but maybe this is because i spend too much time at pappadeaux's.

twenty-two. i get really tired of eating at the same restaurants. and it's not like this area is without a selection. but i'm almost always going for sandwiches, seafood, salads or pasta.

twenty-three. i kind of want to give up my cell phone. but then, the moment i kill the service is the moment i'd start to really need it, i guess.

twenty-four. i haven't felt determined to do anything in months, which could be why i'm barely a fourth of the way toward accomplishing my reading goal and fourteen pages away from accomplishing my writing goal and why my life is, for the most part, in an utter state of chaos. i know better. i do.

twenty-five. all i had to eat today was a bowl of corn pops, some strawberries, some bread and a dinner salad. breakfast and dinner. i was doing really good about eating more regularly throughout the day. and i know better than to do this, too.

dr. bird's advice for sad poets

why i wanted to read it: i'd gone to the library to pick up some books, and i caught a glimpse of it as i was hunting for those i'd originally sought. the title caught my attention.

what i liked: every day i miss my sister, expelled from home and school with just a few months left. no prom, no graduation, no celebration, no gifts. a metaphorical footprint on her ass after years of literal bruises on her body put there by my mother, the banshee, and my father, the brute (p. 4).

whatever the case, the girl who didn't look my way when the grill of a bus ruined my week is now shamelessly watching me calculate force with a dull pencil (p. 12).

she drilled a hole in the side of her jewelry box that allowed her to shake out two earrings. she wore them regardless of whether they matched or not (p. 18).

but what would my week be without a massive cloud of worry? it would be like a different week. and my weeks just aren't different (p. 40).

i'd like to celebrate sarasallysomething and assume she's just living the life she wants to live, but something tells me doing coke at a high school party is not what she dreamt of when she was little (p. 52).

when my alarm goes off in the morning, i have no energy to celebrate myself or hug trees or even look any birds in the eye (p. 73).

"we should get the check," i suggest, because i can't listen to someone else tell me how my life would be different if it were different (p. 194).

"are you aware that your real self is this anxiety-ridden, bursting, twisting, unhappy, buzzing, hate-filled, meandering, overtired sleepless boy?"

i say i'm not sure who i am.

"then would drugs really make a difference? would the drugs be any worse?"

"i don't want to be artificial."

"you want to be nonfunctional?"

"i would rather malfunction than sit and stare at a wall like an unplugged coffeepot" (p. 202).

but fuck you, whitman, because my sister defiled her body with little cuts while trying to find the joy that you so easily see in spears of grass. how come that couldn't save her? how come trees can't save me? how come we didn't see bright joy in the world, or in ourselves? (p. 214).

i recall derek's rule number one of teenage happiness: less detail makes for an easier lie. right now all these details signal a very difficult, unhappy lie. but what's the lie? and why was it created? (p. 254).

what sucked: i tabbed a lot of pages that had sentences that piqued my interest at the time. but when i looked back on them i didn't like them quite as much. i liked the characters, but i couldn't love them. i liked the story--it's got good amounts of conflict and it plays out well enough. i cared about the story and its characters like i care for a good acquaintance. i did not love it.

having said all that: it's an interesting read. and better than most of the tales i've read this year.

life is good

today, i'd like to introduce to you a fellow blogger named tina, and she's been a loyal picky reader for a very long time. what i love best about her is she gives some great insight, some wonderful perspective. she writes some pretty nifty stuff...

Maybe you've been wondering about that badge in the sidebar with the sunflower and the flamingo and thinking, “Who is that?” Hi! It's me! Tina @ Life is Good. I thought I'd introduce myself and entice (Force? Bribe?) you to come visit me. I'll tell you a little about myself, and include links to some posts that will continue to tell my story.

I'm a writer who's been blogging since 2009. I'm also a wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend, Bruce Springsteen fan, word AND math nerd, former math and English teacher, former office manager/HR department head, currently a stay-at-home mom working on my first novel. It's a sci-fi/thriller.

I am also one of the co-hosts of the worldwide April Blogging from A-Z Challenge and help run the blog we share year round. It's a blast, and I've met so many great people. I encourage you to check it out and consider joining us. You've got plenty of time to plan...

I was born in Sweden to an American mom and a Swedish dad. We lived there until I was nine when we moved to Silver Spring, MD. In April of 2012 I wrote my A-Z Challenge posts about my childhood in Sweden and taught a word of Swedish a day. For this April's Challenge I wrote posts about my first year as an immigrant to America. All of those have corny and embarrassing pictures of me as a child. Enjoy.

I married my high school sweetheart after dating nine years. He's The Engineer, and is a mad inventor (see The Engineer Grows Food: Aquaponics). I've got two boys, 13 and 16. The oldest I call The Transporter because he has his permit and drives me everywhere. He's into video games and programming and living in his room, making occasional appearances for food. The youngest is OYT (for Our Youngest Teen, which I think is a boring nickname, but he picked it). He's into RC cars, video games like Minecraft. They started as 11^th and 8^th graders on Friday.

I keep busy year-round because we are The House where all the friends gather. We've been here 13 years, and most of the boys who lived here when we moved in--a total of 7--still live here. Now that The Transporter has friends who drive, lots of non-neighbors come too. I love it. I know who my kids' friends are and what everyone is doing. I do buy a lot of groceries, but it's worth it. The kids actually clean up after themselves, and when they order pizza (on their own dime) during a marathon gaming session, I usually get a piece.

The other thing you should know about me is that I'm a total klutz, completely accident prone and, as OYT likes to say, a medical apocalypse. So WHEN you come visit, you could start with my “about me” tab which has some revealing info, and then just go at my search box with “medical” or “accident” or “embarrassing” and you'll be entertained (at my expense) for hours...

Thanks jenn for letting me hog your blog today!

~Tina

that gal's a tough cookie. get to know her, yall. you'll be glad you did.

this is what happy looks like

why i wanted to read it: i went to the library to get a couple of books (because i don't already have a lengthy to-read list): forman's if i stay and jennifer smith's the statistical probability of love at first sight. i found the first with little trouble, but the second title was hiding and would not be found. i spotted this one and snatched it up, thinking it might be cute.

what i liked: so little.

childhood memories were like airplane luggage; no matter how far you were traveling, or how long you needed them to last, you were only ever allowed two bags (p. 116).

ellie watched as the little girl handed her father a postcard with a picture of the sun rising over the ocean. but the mother had corralled the boys out the door and was calling sharply for the other two to join them. the dad shrugged helplessly at his daughter, whose chin trembled as she clutched the postcard to her chest.

"she can just take it," ellie found herself saying, and the man spun around with a look of surprise. his daughter beamed at him, then skipped off with the card in hand, a memory that might only make it to the corner, or the end of the trip, but that would--with any luck--be carried with her at least a little farther than that (p. 121).

no matter how long it's been or how far you've drifted, no matter how unknowable you might be, there were at least two people in the world whose job it was to see you, to find you, to recognize you and reel you back in. no matter what (p. 342).

what sucked: so much. that it was four hundred four pages of trite crap. seriously. this is the kind of crap that makes breaking into the publishing business such a pain in the ass. four hundred pages? i don't mind lengthy novels so long as they're packed with awesome. and no, not every page has to be so, but there sure as shit needs to be more than two pages. hell, that's barely half of one. and that's not even awesome. that's the best this book's got, though.

having said all that: maybe i'm being a little harder on it than i ought to be. but the author? she works in the industry as an editor. if i'd sent in something of the same caliber, it wouldn't get more than a half-second's glance... it'd go into the slush pile, and when the editorial assistants got around to looking at everything else that got tossed there with it, they might give it two seconds, and then it'd go in the trash.

maybe i'm a little frustrated. it's just that i can write better than this. and it makes me a little annoyed when others' work, which is considerably less, gets printed. also, i stubbed the same toe on the corner of some brick twice in thirty minutes. and maybe i've been a little too spendthrifty lately. these things do not a happy gal make.

but still. it's crap. too little conflict, too little chemistry between the main characters (who aren't all that likable), too much cheese. way, way too much cheese.

i used to really like the name graham. and now i'm gonna think of this lame dude from this lame novel.

if i stay

why i wanted to read it: because it comes before where she went. i should've read this one first. i would have, except when i sought out more of ms. forman's works, i only saw the second. i could've looked harder. but i wasn't feeling like hunting.

what i liked: unlike the other, where the sentences appealed more than the story did, in this novel, i wasn't quite as touched by the word choices. but the story is sweeter.

remembering adam would be like losing him all over again, and i'm not sure that i can bear that on top of everything else (p. 181).

i'm feeling not just the physical pain, but all that i have lost, and it is profound and catastrophic and will leave a crater in me that nothing will ever fill (p. 195).

there were a few others here and there, but none so strong that i felt compelled to mark the page so that i could put them here.

then again, i showed yall quite a few from the second book, and maybe i'm just not feeling as generous this time around.

what sucked: there's a spot where the story sort of lulls, but that's all i've got, really.

having said all that: of the three forman books i've read, i like this one the best. also, i'm glad i read adam's tale first. makes me like him more here for having done that. makes me like mia more, too.

where she went

why i wanted to read it: because i kind of liked the gayle forman's other book.

what i liked: and before i know what i'm doing, before i can argue myself out of it, rationalize what a terrible idea this is, i'm walking toward the box office. i don't want to see her, i tell myself. i won't see her.  i only want to hear her (p. 37).

the tremor in my hand has become so normal, so nonstop, that it's generally imperceptible to me. but as soon as my fingers close around mia's, the thing i notice is that it stops and suddenly it goes quiet, like when the squall of feedback is suddenly cut when someone switches off an amp (p. 56).

my mom liked to say that everything i'd done--from my mere existence, to becoming a musician, to falling in love with a girl like mia, to going to college, to having the band become so popular, to dropping out of college, to dropping out of the band--was a surprise...

"you working at the plant," she said, staring at my solemnly. "this doesn't surprise me. this is what i would've expected from a son of mine" (pp. 60-61).

"not in new york. the diner pies are such disappointments. the fruit's almost always canned. and marionberry does not exist here. how is it possible that fruit simply ceases to exist from one coast to another?"

how is it possible that a boyfriend ceases to exist from one day to another? "couldn't tell you" (p. 72).

i'm pretty sure there's not going to be another postscript with mia, and i'm gonna have to live on the fumes of tonight for the rest of my life, so i'd like a little more to show for it than parking lots and arthritis and aborted apologies (p. 113).

"the faculty here will coddle you because of what you went through. i, however, am of the opinion if we do that, that car crash might as well have killed you, too, because we will smother your talent" (p. 123).

"i suspect deep down he's doing this because he thinks by giving me a shot at a career, he'll help me fill some void... but he doesn't have to give me the career. that's not what fills the void."

and it's like, mia, don't you get it? the music is the void. and you're the reason why (p. 126).

"bullshit," mia says... "quitting's not hard. deciding to quit is hard. once you make that mental leap, the rest is easy."

"really? was that how you quit me?" (p. 182).

letting go. everyone talks about it like it's the easiest thing. unfurl your fingers one by one until your hand is open. but my hand has been clenched into a fist for three years now; it's frozen shut. all of me is frozen shut. and about to shut down completely (p. 189).

i've blamed her for all of this, for leaving, for ruining me. and maybe that was the seed of it, but from that one little seed grew this tumor of a flowering plant. and i'm the one who nurtures it. i water it. i care for it. i nibble from its poison berries. i let it wrap around my neck, choking the air right out of me. i've done that. all by myself. all to myself (p. 190).

and the music, it's like, i dunno, fresh bread on an empty stomach or a woodstove on a frigid day (p. 201).

her hands were freezing, just like they always were, so i warmed them just like i always did.

and it was while i was warming her hands that i thought about how lucky it was that they looked okay. because without hands, there'd be no music and without music, she'd have lost everything (pp. 214-215).

what sucked: maybe this was intended and maybe it suits the characters, but it sort of plodded a long in places. then it got pretty good. then it got really cheesy and went back to plodding along.

having said all that: i did like it. it's not a bad story. so much of it's told with some well-crafted sentences. there's poetry, even, really in the author's prose. the characters are likable, too. it's good. not great. but worth reading.