What's the Opposite of a Foot Fetish?

I have come to realize why my mom wears her tennis shoes all day and all night long. I used to think it was a neurotic habit (no offense mom), putting on shoes right out of the shower and not taking them off until right before going to bed; but after the past two days I'm considering a similar habit. So far I have stepped on, a screw, a jagged piece of chip, two minuscule pieces of glass that some how made it into my bedroom though I don't recall ever breaking anything in there. I slammed three toes into my dresser (don't even ask me how that happened) and while wearing flip flops got my other foot's toe caught under the door while moving a giant dresser from the street to our apartment (it is for sale if you're interested).

So.

Mom. I now, after twenty six years, understand.

Though wearing shoes for twelve hours is so restrictive. I feel like my feet stop breathing. A better solution would probably be to sweep all the floors in the apartment and maybe pay better attention to where I'm stepping.

I can't imagine never walking barefoot through cool grass again or dipping my toes in a stream. I will have to come to a happy medium soon because I don't know if they can take much more abuse.

Music Mondays: Push the Way You Move Real Good.

I woke up with Outkast stuck in my head, which was rather frightening to tell you the truth. Anyway, I looked it up and found this combo video with one of my fav groups of all time Salt N Pepa; I found it to be quite entertaining, I hope you do to. Enjoy:

I Finished My Book. Kind of.

Well. Yesterday I finished the first full draft of my book. And by full I mean like 160 pages, which technically isn't a book as much as a novella. But I'm not done with it. I'm putting it "a drawer" or just hiding it in a folder on my desktop for six weeks (via Steven King's advice) then I'm going to pull it back out and fix it.

And by fix it I mean expand it and make it so it doesn't suck anymore.

Not that the whole thing sucks, if it did I don't know why I would have kept working on it. But I am aware there are parts that need complete or partial makeovers.

It feels weird. I can't believe it's true. I don't believe it's true and maybe that's why I'm not excited about it. Because it's not really done.

Though I am excited to work on other things for awhile. To write some weird shit that doesn't make any sense, that doesn't follow a plot or a linear line, stuff that may not even be considered sentences.

I think I'm going to write a chapbook full of that sort of stuff, because I can. And I might as well.

Onward and upward and forward we shall go.

Fun Fri(Food)Day: Traditional Meets Modern

The Menu

Pressure-cooked green beans (I love that thing now that I finally figured it out), vegan stuffing and black&white (or salt&pepper) tofu.

I messed up an entire loaf of bread in the bread machine; the altitude and rye flour don't get along sometimes; instead of throwing it out though I turned the lumpy dry brick into a delicious side dish. I don't think stuffing should just be served at Thanksgiving, it's way too good for that.

Because Reading Shouldn't Always be Easy: Stream Dream

And the little piggie went wee wee wee all the way home. home is where your heart is. where your fart is. fart boxed this room. not right now. but while we were sleeping. while you were sleeping a man crept into your bed. bed would be nice. soft. warm. sleepy. sleep time. applesauce covered in raisin moss. don't cross the cross walk. jesus on the cross, don't stop.

stopped.

bell jar ball jar what is the difference i will have to look it up google search search and assist desist insist incest insects inspect it all and figure it out. be the change you want to see. see change, sea change rearrange in my pants. balls. i don't have those. and i am glad. paper stars and words unheard throw it back to an attack of youth. proof that it was all for nothing, for everything, for what it is. it is what it is. cruelty free and humanely can those really be connected. connection section, reconnection, dots. sugary sweet sticky green pink red yellow. pink are the best. strawberry but who could really tell that. coffee pot and a parking lot. paradise. by the dashboard lights. meatloaf, who invited that. and why. battery operated device, not lice, ice. cream in your pants when you realize your death. your dead. already. didn't you know?

And it's all a show. a game. a place for races and traces and laces and faces. my face. your face. strange faces. face the music. okay. i like music. lust trust truce loose, lose yourself in words and ideas. images, lighting, light fixtures. picture this, me on a hill by a stream butterflies, flowers, a warm breeze. relax. lax. smack yourself back into reality. tv. people still watch it, but i don't know why. it bides the time. bide. bid. baby bib. rib. baby back ribs. people still eat those. even though they're called baby back ribs. again. and again i see fans. air moving in beat to the street to the stream to the long and narrow road to nowhere going home to nothing to no one to the deep dark empty spaces of places left unseen. hidden caves and pockets of dreams.

take a breath breathe.

we are only a stitch in a seam.

Exercise, Exercise, Exercise Those Writing Skills.

I went to my first women writers' meetup group today. I'll leave my initial reactions alone for now as I am still processing my opinion and thoughts on the experience. But I did write something. And since I don't plan on doing anything more with it, I'll share it with you all now.

This was a prompt exercise based off of a picture. This was written in 10 minutes with many random voices and things happening around me, so I'm not promising much here:

Her nail was slightly broken. She couldn’t stop chewing on it trying to break it, trying to make it even. The game was close to ending, she was close to losing, probably because she cared more about her broken nail than the game she was playing.

Amy sat at her computer day after day playing the same computer game, chatting with the same people from Tennessee, Italy, small towns from Georgia, Kansas, even Japan. They were all lost souls with nowhere to go but online. Into a world where no one really knew them, where they could be whoever they wanted.

It was the game that changed Amy’s life. Well, not really the game but Tony, the man she met the day she had the broken nail, the man she feel in love with.

Tony was only three hours away. He begged her day after day to meet in person. She learned from CSI and Criminal Minds and Law and Order SVU that it was not a good idea to meet in person, no matter how cute his profile picture was or how funny his jokes were, or how charismatic he seemed to be.

But he was really cute. And funny. And charismatic.

And every day she was convinced just a tiny bit more that it would be okay. Amy loved Tony. He was her soul mate. At least via online game chat rooms.

That's as far as I got. You can take it from there if you'd like.

10 Random Thoughts and 1 Very Random Video (Charlie the Unicorn)

1) Why are my glasses constantly dirty. Even right after I clean them they still don't seem to be that clear.

2) It's amazing how much hair falls out of my scalp every day. I am surprised I still have hairs left in my head. I've come up with an art project for all this hair, but I'm not going to say it because you might be a thief.

3) I wish someone would take all of my inventions and actually create them. I'd split the profit with them 50/50...maybe even 40/60 if it was a really profitable idea. (I have a fantastic billion dollar idea but I need a computer programmer--if you know of one)

4) Almost every night right when I'm trying to go to sleep and feel guilty for all the things I didn't accomplish that day--usually it has to do with writing and not writing enough.

5) They say that a person drastically changes every 7 years (I don't know who says it I just know someone does) if that is the case I have drastically turned into a terrible public speaker. I need to get my shit together when talking to strangers. I think it has to do with just hanging out in my room all day solo; so when I actually meet people who want to interact with me I get a little overeager and a lot of anxious. I over-analyze the entire conversation while we're having the conversation or while I am speaking in front of people. It's not only exhausting it's embarrassing.

6) I was seriously going to start seriously running; but now all it does is rain. So that plan has been eliminated and now I just sit around getting fat.

7) People talk about being fat-positive; and though I believe it's fine for other people to be fat if that's what they want, personally I feel better un-fat. Fit. I feel better when I fit together tighter. Stronger. Leaner. But that's just what makes me happy others can do/eat/be what they want.

8) Every day I say I'm going to try to be more positive. And it works too. Until I'm around other people, then I turn into a monster. Rarwarhar. Okay, maybe not a monster, but I just get confused by their behavior, which pisses me off, which makes me think negative thoughts. I'm going to stop letting other people bother me though. They can't help it. They don't even know. So why should it matter so much to me?

9) Is there anyone out there in this whole big wide world who wants to fix my hair? I mean last time I complained about it, but this time, this time it desperately needs work. I would almost allow anything to happen. Especially if it included transforming the color. Or maybe just shaving it off.

10) My new favorite writing trick is "writing the worst sentence of all time." It's sort of like reverse psychology. If I can get myself to at least write the worst sentence I at least now have a sentence to fix instead of nothing. And something is almost always better than nothing. At least when it comes to writing.

And now a very random video for your entertainment:

Music Mondays: How to Get Your Freak On.

Me and my BFF in high school used to cruise around listening to Missy Elliott over and over. When we weren't cruising around, we'd stop the car in a parking lot, open the doors, crank up the music and dance. It was quite the Missy Adventure.

(I apologize that this version is edited)

Enjoy

Fun Fri(Food)Day: Yum Holes!

Vegan Doughnuts

Ingredients:

3 teaspoons powdered egg replacer mixed with 4 tablespoons hot water

1 1/2 tablespoons flaxseed meal mixed with 3 tablespoons hot water

3/4 cup organic cane sugar

3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, sifted

4 teaspoon baking powder, sifted

1/2 teaspoon nutmeg

1/4 teaspoon cinnamon

1 teaspoon sea salt or 1 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

1 cup soymilk or soy creamer

3 tablespoon canola oil or melted vegan margarine (earth balance)

Cinnamon-sugar or glaze for coating

Directions:

1) In separate bowls, mix together egg replacer powder with hot water and flaxseed meal with hot water. Set aside for five minutes.

2) In a large bowl, sift together dry ingredients and stir well to combine. Add egg replacer mixture, flaxseed meal mixture, soymilk, and oil and stir gently to combine. Should be almost as stiff as cookie dough.

3) Heat oil in a pot or deep fryer to 325 degrees Fahrenheit. Carefully drop teaspoon-size balls of dough (in batches of 6 to into hot oil and fry two minutes. Turn beignets over and fry another 1 1/2 to 2 minutes.

4) Remove from oil and place on paper-towel covered sheet pan. Wait a couple minutes for oil to drain then roll the beignets in cinnamon-sugar to coat.

Source of recipe: This recipe took a bit of experimentation, but it was worth it.

Makes: About 40 medium-sized beignets, Preparation time: 20 minutes, Cooking time: 30 minutes

(To make them chocolate I substituted ½ of flour for ½ cup of cocoa.)

(I believe this was off of vegweb but I'm not sure it's original source)

That Leaves a Bitter Taste in my Mouth.

In a recent New Yorker article titled, "Snacks for a Fat Planet," John Seabrook writes,

"The overriding impression I carried away from my Hawthorne [pepsi research lab] visit was that, although it all comes back to taste at PepsiCo, the physical sensation of tasting has been so thoroughly mediated by advertising and packaging that no one knows anymore where the physiological experience ends and the aspirational experience begins."

Now I've thought this way for a long time about beauty ideals but after reading this article I realized the parallel between the two.

Not only does advertising and marketing tell us what we like to look at but also what we like to eat.

I mean, that's pretty obvious; we're bombarded with food commercials, ads etc. but I guess I never considered that it make have an actual mental impact on my taste buds. That I may be more of a product of corporate campaigns than I want to believe.

And that food and what we're convinced is "good" has a direct parallel to beauty and what we think is sexy to the point where we are constantly surrounded in contradictions.

Eat this beautiful fatty salty cheeseburger than buy diet pills and ab shapers and spanx to look like this skinny beautiful sexy model.

It is just really weird for me to think that even my taste buds have been conditioned to enjoy certain flavors over others. It's weird for me to imagine and comprehend that I have been so totally programmed by outside forces that I may not ever do anything based on my own personal well being. It's not like we can separate ourselves from that which we already learned. It's not like I can un-socialize myself. I can perhaps re-train my taste buds, but what bases am I doing that? How do I know I'm not just being re-programmed from another corporate source?

How do I really know that what is "healthy" is really healthy?

That what is tasty is really tasty?

That what is true is really true?

Ahhhhh.

My Password is Protected, Even From Myself.

The other day I went to get some cash out of the atm at a cash-only bar.

I put my pin number in and waited and waited.

I realized as I stood there that I could no longer actually remember my pin number and that the number I had put in was just some random concoction I imagined was the correct number, but sadly it was not.

What happened to it?

I cannot figure it out.

I blame it entirely on information overload. I must have signed up one too many passwords. A human brain may only be capable of storing a particular number; I agree after 20 it sort of gets out of control.

I mean, how many different log-ins do I have. If I sit and count, it comes to around probably 15...maybe 20. Maybe more and I just don't remember (ha).

I've had that pin number for about four years now. You think it wouldn't just disappear from my brain, which makes me paranoid that there is something wrong with my brain. Maybe I have a tumor or something. I hope not because that would be a mess.

I guess I need to write everything down somewhere, which sort of defeats the purpose of security.... but its better than going through the mess of getting a new pin...or password. Waiting around for wherever I logged in to email me back what I've forgotten.

Time to start doing more brain exercises...I guess reading and writing and thinking are not enough for my memory.

Will Ally McBeal Grow on Me or Should I Get a New TV Show Obsession?

Random thoughts on Ally McBeal because it is now streamable on netflix and for some reason I am streaming it.

Pretty sure I saw Jon Hamm on the second episode for just a couple of seconds. I’m going to have to rewind just to make sure. Yep. It was totally him. I bet his role was called, "gorgeous guy." Ha! (Looked that up too, he wasn't even listed as a character, poor Hamm.)

She’s always eating something , it makes me think the director is trying to compensate for the fact that she probably never ate in real life.

They had “flying windows” on a computer screen that brought back more memories than the terrible suit jackets and permed hair.

I had no idea Jane Krakowski (30 Rock) was a main character in this show which may be the reason I keep watching it.

Trying to figure out this show...part of it seems feminist-ish but other parts are really really lame (the music particularly). For example, in one episode she’s defending a female news reporter who got fired because of her age and at the same time dating this guy who doesn’t kiss her after their date, she says, “why didn’t he kiss me I’m a sex object!”

In the very first episode she sued someone for sexually harassing her. I mean really? Was she being ironic? Was she being a contradiction on purpose to confuse women?

And what’s up with it often being about her connection to a man as opposed to her just being a strong female lead character?

That episode about her being emotional? Ugh! I mean I suppose that still happens but it's so stereotypical that any one in "law" should be so ashamed even considering such an accusation that you'd assume they'd give up "law" altogether.

Nice try 1997.

What season does Portia de Rosi come on... can I get through them until then? And would it be worth it?

Music Mondays: Christ Wants to Know?

Because Judgement Day is upon us...or so they say and I may not have another music monday.

Who will save your soul? Jessica or Jewel?

Oh were you thinking it was going to be Jesus...think again sweetheart.

This may be the most disturbing video I have ever come upon....I wonder what kind of downers they took...they are too calm and sway-y to be undrugged.

Another One Bites the Dust: White Dudes' Failed Pickup Lines.

I can't decide if bar-hopping-white-guys are creepy disgusting pigs or just insecure losers.

Why?

Well, last night at the bar I made a Natural Geographics observation.

It was early enough, like 11 or so and all the white guys were on the perimeter of the dance floor, watching.

Watching and waiting.

In the inner circle, women and Jamaican men, Mexican men, African men etc. were all dancing, jumping, grinding. The men were hitting on the women hard and early.

Which I wonder, was it too early? Was it too hard?

Is that why the white guys stand around, watching, waiting.

They know that the women aren't quite ready? Or they want others to get rejected first to be able to handle it if it happens to them.

Or is it because they're not drunk enough.

And why the need to be so drunk just to talk to someone you're attracted to?

It took these white guys until almost the club closes to go up and hit on a girl--and then they expected that girl to offer her bed.

They expect it.

(smells of white male privilege to me)

Is this strange to any one else?

It's not like the pickup lines were good--not the ones I heard anyway.

I mean the whole structure of the dance club has a strange dynamic. Women come in packs; they do this for multiple reasons but basically I see it as protecting pleasure. The pleasure of being able to let go and dance...but knowing one can't let go all the way because there are horny drooling men out there waiting to take a bite.

Which is a bit extreme of course, there is a bigger dance going on then the one on the floor. Our sexual dance...how passive we all are and yet when someone is too assertive it's not attractive. So many subtle rules to follow for it all to work out for everyone involved. It rarely seems to. At least from my observations.

Oh Discovery Channel. Animal Planet. Bar the Documentary (coming out June 2014). It's all so fascinating to me.

And probably needs to be developed a bit more.

IDK. Maybe I still have beer in my blood.

(But I don't have a dude in my bed.)

Fun Fri(Food)Day: Festive Fiesta Beans.

From the beautiful cookbook Color Me Vegan by Colleen Patrick-Goudreau which I won at a past vegan meetup and highly recommend.

This is the first recipe I made from it:

White Bean and Artichoke Salad

2 cans white beans, drained rinsed (I used 1 can great northern, 1 can cannelloni)

1/2 or 1 can artichoke hearts, drained and roughly chopped

1 red, yellow, or orange pepper; diced

1/3 cup pitted black olives; finely chopped

1 small red onion; finely chopped

1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley

1/4 cup chopped fresh mint leaves

2 tablespoons chopped fresh basil

Mix together

In a jar or small bowl, combine 1/4 cup olive oil and 1/4 cup balsamic vinegar; shake together or mix well. Pour over salad, toss to coat. Season with salt and pepper.

Cover and chill in fridge for several hours or overnight, stir occasionally to blend flavors.

So great for a picnic or as a side on a hot day.

Pinning Back Our Individuality.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my ears lately.

It’s weird.

See, they stick out. Sort of like Dumbo.

It’s my mom’s fault really—though she doesn’t like me talking about her on my blog.

But hear me out. A few days after I was born she said to a friend or family member or someone, “at least she didn’t get her dad’s ears.”

Then the next day they popped right out, no longer were they safely secured to the side of my head like most people’s ears, they were now wings barely stuck to my noggin.

It was too late for her to take it back.

The other day I was reading this review in the New Yorker on books about reality tv, particularly a section on makeover shows; in one part there is a quote by one the authors which talks about her personal experience at the dentist—he tells her for $5000 he can cap her teeth she declines but at the same time wants to tell him that he should have otoplasty otherwise known as pinning back the ears.

I thought, people actually think that’s important?

So I’ve been looking in the mirror a lot, pulling back my ears trying to see if it really makes that much difference in my appearance.

I can’t see it being worth the trouble.

And though no matter what I want to think, I know humans make very quick judgments of other people based on their appearance. But changing it to better fit someone else’s ideal of perfection seems trivial. How did they come up with those ideals? What influenced them, could that influence change and if so would surgeries have to be “undone” or “redone” based on random ideas of beauty?

Although my mother “jinxed” me that doesn’t mean I wasn’t meant to have these ears. And it doesn’t mean that even though they’re different I should pin them back, contain them, make them appear more “normal.” If I did wouldn’t I just blend in with the rest of the pinned-back ears—and what’s so great about ears that are stuck to the side of one’s head? I mean my ears aren’t detachable or anything but they have their own definition; you can’t not notice them.

Is that how we’re supposed to carry ourselves through the world, unnoticeable? The author surely felt the need to find something to fix on the dentist’s body, was it because of her own insecurities? Did her constant watching of reality tv makeover shows start to make her question her own beauty? If we all dress like upper-class white women, looked like Barbies, and talked like we lived in the OC wouldn’t that get really boring?

We makeover ourselves for whom?

We pin our ears back for what?

So other people no longer notice us?

So we fit in?

So we never stick out?

No thanks.

I’d rather dangle some sparkly jewels off the ends instead.

Time Apart for a Better Time Together.

Ryan and I have been together for over five years. I mean literally together. Besides the one semester he was finishing school in Hays and I was starting school in Chicago we have not had more than a day or two apart.

Until now.

And I must say this is a necessary element to any relationship.

Time apart.

I'm surprised we've been able to stand each other this long without ripping each other's hair out--particularly during my final semester in grad school, boy was I a hag from hell.

Anyhoo. I went to New Orleans for a short weekend and it was like a breath of fresh air (minus the fresh air--more like spilled old beer) and now he's going to L.A.

This means I can leave huge piles of clothes all over the house, eat all the food without sharing, get really really drunk and know no one will hear the stupid things I am saying. And best of all, have time to miss him.

That's super important. Because sometimes, well all times, when a person, any person is around another person for too long they both start irritating each other.

How many friendships are ruined when they become roommates?

Good thing he is patient or else this would have ended long ago. Because I can't imagine that I'm really that fun to live with, just that he's calm and puts up with it... probably due to love but maybe just because he's nice. IDK.

Anyway. As I was saying. It's good for couples to spend time away from each other. We're going to have to start having more separate vacations more often.

Tap Into Your Inner Sexy Slut.

What does it take to be a slut?

And is it really so bad to enjoy sex?

Slutwalk has got me thinking about these questions.

gasbombgirl

I don’t believe men rape because they enjoy the sex, they rape because they enjoy the power; or need power because they feel powerless.

The slutwalk started after a police officer said to a group of women at Osgoode Hall Law School, Toronto:

"I've been told I'm not supposed to say this – however, women should avoid dressing like sluts in order not to be victimised."

Now I’ve met plenty of men who have met plenty of sluts and not raped them.

I’ve met plenty of slutty men who don’t get raped.

I’ve met plenty of raped women who didn’t dress like a slut.

I’ve met plenty of rapists who will rape no matter what.

I’ve met plenty of sluts who don’t dress like sluts.

The problem isn’t the clothes.

It’s the structure.

For one thing let’s take a look at the language.... “women should avoid ________ to avoid _______”

So whatever happens to a woman it’s because she caused it. She did not take the precautions to prevent _______________ from happening.

Let’s look at other language issues.

“She was raped.”

Never do I hear, “He raped her.” (or she raped him, or he raped him or whatever combination) it’s always something that happens to the person almost out of nowhere, as if the person was magically attacked by some unknown force (because the person asked for it).

Asking for it. Another wonderful addition to our discourse on this subject.

If a woman in a slutty outfit (or otherwise) was “asking for it” then she literally would have said, “yes, let’s have sex.” Her skirt cannot consent for her.

And speaking of asking for it, I’d like to talk a moment about sexual enjoyment and the art of being a slut.

There is nothing wrong with enjoying sex, being sexual, sensual, erotic, etc. Being touched, being loved by other people is important to our human wellbeing. I think many of us are brainwashed with puritanical conservative ideas on sexuality and it's frightening.

In a big way it reinforces rape because sex is often not about love or connection or physical enjoyment but about reinstating power dynamics. And again that's a structural problem based on issues surrounding the intersections of gender, race, class etc. I won't say I blame the patriarchy because I don't need to.

So what are we to do?

Slutwalk is amazing because it reinforces our human agency to be sluts, to be sexual in whatever way it means to us, and for our sexualities not to correlate with rape.

I think we should all tap into our inner sluts. Become more at peace with the fact that we are sexual and it's okay. There is no reason to fear love or loving someone else. I'd like to think that if we all were more loving, not necessarily sexual, but compassionate, sincere, thoughtful, the rape culture would cease to exist or become so outlandish and awful that those who did it would be put in reprograming workshops until they learned the values of love, honesty, and reciprocation etc. I hope this is not wishful idealism.

(IDK: a discussion on this would be nice since I'm sure these ideas could be developed further, expanded, dissected, reconstructed etc.)

Sex positive. Rape negative.

For a sex positive movie check out Shortbus.

Should I Have Done Jail Time Instead?

This is the first time in 20 some years where I haven't had a summer break. This is the first time in 20 odd years that I've had a year break, but that's a different situation.

It's weird knowing that all these people are done with another semester and that I am no longer in school.

They have half-way houses for people getting out of jail.

What about the people who have been in school their entire lives?

What do we get?

Unemployment?

Where is our transitional place?

They're both institutions that instill rules and regulations that force us to behave, one is supposed to prepare people for the job market and the other is supposed to repair people for the job market.

One makes a person pay thousands upon thousands of dollars to read books and write papers, the other one gives a person the opportunity to read books and write papers and not have to pay a dime + food and lodging.

I think I may have chosen the wrong path.

Or maybe that's all just proof that our system is severely out of whack.

In any case, the kids are on break which makes me want to break but I know I've already breaked year after year after year. But don't we all need a break? Wouldn't people who work 9 to 5 need a longer break that people who just go to classes a few nights a week? And what about the people who are unemployed? Don't we need a break from our break? I mean it's exhausting trying to find ways to not be on a break any longer. (applying for jobs is a full-time job)

But, what do I know? Obviously I was not the designer of this society, if I was it would look much different (and all bathroom stalls would open outward instead of back into me, but that's a whole other structural problem).

Fun Fri(Food)Day: What to Do with Eggplant.

So I bought eggplant the other day because it was on sale for just $1.

I rarely buy it because I don't really know what to do with it besides make eggplant parmesan. And I never really worked it before since my mother has this strange anti-squash-family problem. As in she hates anything squash-like so I never ate it growing up, thought I hated it for years and have since learned to appreciate much of it--though "liking it" is a step-by-step process.

Anyway, I found this recipe on vegweb for Fabulous Eggplant Tomato Dumpling Bake and, it was, like the title suggested, fabulous. Plus we had plenty of leftovers, which is great because that means less cooking and cleaning for me. Not that I dislike cooking but it leaves time for other things, like reading or watching netflix--there is pretty much an endless supply of netflix streaming out there. I have several tv shows in the waiting.

And on another eggplant note: though I love the color of the skin it is probably the least fun veggie to try to peel. I almost cut my hand off because my peeler sucked and I had to use a knife. Scary lefty in the kitchen!

9 Random Thoughts.

1) Looking at a blank white “sheet” of paper in Word is slightly exhilarating to me, mainly because I’ve been working on that book. Having the opportunity to write whatever I want is exciting and scary; it makes me look forward to the day when the book is done (who knows when that will be).

2) There have been several spiders that have made our bedroom wall their place of death. I find this odd. And it makes me wonder how many are alive creeping around while we sleep.

3) I don’t understand what’s going on with myhair. Granted I did plenty to it in the past few months for it to have a misunderstanding with me, but I don’t like where it’s going. It has a bad attitude. I’ll have to straighten it out.

4) There are too many ingredients in a regular tube of chapstick.

5) I wonder what people in big houses do all day in their big houses; I wonder if there are some days when they are at home and they don’t even go into all the rooms they have. I can’t imagine being that rich and not feeling guilty about all the poor people who sleep ten to a studio. I sort of wish one would offer us half of their house on the side of a mountain. I’m pretty sure, considering the size, they’d never even know we were there.

6) I click on facebook too much. I always expect something to be happening, and though something is always happening, nothing is also happening. Everything and Nothing. I wait for the red. I click and wait for more red. It’s like the mailbox. I go and get it, then I forget and go and get it again only to discover there's nothing there (that only happens every once in a while).

7) I enter at least 5 internet contests per day. I will win a trip. I will win a trip. I will win a trip. Or a "dream" "green home", or a trip, either way.

8) In the past three weeks, I've meditated daily 80% of the time. I don't know if it's done anything. I don't know if I'm doing it right. But at least I don't feel guilty about not doing it anymore.

9) Love will find a way. (as the postcard says on my desk.)

Reality TV and the Presidential Race. Who Are You Going to Vote For?

I heard rumors that Donald Trump wants to run for president.

I think that congress should pass legislation that prevents any person who has had a reality t.v. show from running for elective office.

That would solve multiple problems (Sarah Palin).

I mean seriously, it's only fair, Trump and Palin have far more reach and recognition than anyone who is not rich enough to be on their own t.v. show. People vote by name recognition many if not most times; hence why we see thousands of signs in people's yards, windows, etc. around an election.

So either reality t.v. stars can't run because they have an unfair advantage being in cable-owners homes on a weekly (maybe even daily basis) OR everyone running has to have one.

People used to joke (in a cynical sort of way) that more people vote for American Idol than they do for president. And yet, American Idol has been on for years and there still isn't an American President reality t.v. show. Why has it taken so long?

Could one really work anyway? I mean, who gets to edit it, produce it? What actually happens in it? How do the people get selected to be on it in the first place? Maybe it would work best if it was for the primaries instead of the final election. Each party could have their own show. Like Who's the Liberal of them All? Or How Conservative Can They Get? or something, I'm sure there are better titles floating around.

In any case, it should be all or no one. Right now--I'd much rather see a bill passed preventing them from running than see more reality t.v. shows.

Music Mondays: Blonde Redhead

Because I'm sort of a blonde redhead right now.