Saturday, July 30, 2005
The Ramblings of 3 hours of sleep
Gee, maybe I should have woken up before trying this.. doubt there's enough caffeine in the world for that.
What do you do when you're walking in a sleep-deprived haze and those around you won't stop talking about hockey pucks about to go a-flying again? When I wake back up in about six months' time, maybe I'll remember what hockey is. Have I been enjoying the replacements? Suurre, I love watching people stuff food in their face at the rate of 3 pounds per minute, trying to convince their intestinal system that yes, this is really okay and you can take it.
Thank the black cat for depriving me of sleep.. one cannot sleep with one's kitty kneading one's face. That's a new one. She must be getting desperate for her cat treats if she's getting that bold. Sometimes I wish she'd follow the younger one's example.. all he does is meow oh so sweetly.
My Polish other half is calling me.. sigh....
Visitation
I knew it! I knew I’d get in trouble by posting reasons for my skepticism. I’ve been hexed. I just read Bitch by Elizabeth Wurtzel, and now I'm officially haunted. This morning I was visited by my own oversimplified stereotype of a “bad girl”. Suddenly I envisioned Marlene Dietrich at by my bedside this morning, blowing cigarette smoke in my face. After wiping my eyes, I decided to ask her a question.
“Hey, what’s the deal with labeling women ‘good’ or ‘bad’ anyway? Most people are complex. Isn't using the label 'bad girl' encouraging oversimplification in the perception of women?”
"Face it, darling--there's freedom in using simple terms. There's incredible freedom in being labeled a 'bad girl'. It's easy to remember, too."
"So you're saying the simplicity of the term--and the freedom involved--makes everybody want to be a 'bad girl'? I always thought the only time the term 'bad girl' should be used is if you are housetraining a female puppy. You're saying that in reality every woman wants to be a bad girl?"
“Sure, sure—all of them want to be Bad Girls, Darling—until they get strung up on the stake and the torch is lit. It’s amazing how much being a social leper messes with your face.” My inner Dietrich declares, taking a drag off of her long cigarette encased in an onyx holder. All of my resolve for quitting smoking vanishes. Why is it even months or even years after I quit smoking, seeing classic movie stars smoking makes me wish I could still inhale? I turned to my inner Dietrich.
“Hey, could I bum one of those?”
“You quit.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean I don’t miss them.”
“Forget it—I only share cigarettes with men.”
“Bitch.”
“Precisely.”
“Why can’t you be Rosalind Russel's character from His Girl Friday? I always liked her.”
”Ask your unconscious.”
“That’s the problem with my unconscious. I never know what it’s up to. Next time, however, I’m going to ask it to send somebody I can stand to talk to.”
“Hey, what’s the deal with labeling women ‘good’ or ‘bad’ anyway? Most people are complex. Isn't using the label 'bad girl' encouraging oversimplification in the perception of women?”
"Face it, darling--there's freedom in using simple terms. There's incredible freedom in being labeled a 'bad girl'. It's easy to remember, too."
"So you're saying the simplicity of the term--and the freedom involved--makes everybody want to be a 'bad girl'? I always thought the only time the term 'bad girl' should be used is if you are housetraining a female puppy. You're saying that in reality every woman wants to be a bad girl?"
“Sure, sure—all of them want to be Bad Girls, Darling—until they get strung up on the stake and the torch is lit. It’s amazing how much being a social leper messes with your face.” My inner Dietrich declares, taking a drag off of her long cigarette encased in an onyx holder. All of my resolve for quitting smoking vanishes. Why is it even months or even years after I quit smoking, seeing classic movie stars smoking makes me wish I could still inhale? I turned to my inner Dietrich.
“Hey, could I bum one of those?”
“You quit.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean I don’t miss them.”
“Forget it—I only share cigarettes with men.”
“Bitch.”
“Precisely.”
“Why can’t you be Rosalind Russel's character from His Girl Friday? I always liked her.”
”Ask your unconscious.”
“That’s the problem with my unconscious. I never know what it’s up to. Next time, however, I’m going to ask it to send somebody I can stand to talk to.”
Friday, July 29, 2005
Full body shot
Here's a full body shot for anybody who wants to Hex me for being a skeptic.I always strive to be helpful.
Skepticism Rocks
I'm late with my personal update, so here's a starter:
Ten of the many reasons I became a Skeptic:
1. In my experience, some folks aren’t meant to be skyclad.
2. Lack of cognitive dissonance
3. No, I don’t believe that sleeping with you will make me more magically powerful
4. You want me to pay what? For that?
5. No longer need to feel so incredibly foolish
5. I’m no longer forced to listen to Enya!
6. I no longer have to suppress giggles during ceremonies
7. I can admit to being the monist that I am and be done with it.
8. Can be amused by the TV show “Bullshit” by Penn and Teller
9. Can realize ironic biases in the TV show “Bullshit” by Penn and Teller
Ten of the many reasons I became a Skeptic:
1. In my experience, some folks aren’t meant to be skyclad.
2. Lack of cognitive dissonance
3. No, I don’t believe that sleeping with you will make me more magically powerful
4. You want me to pay what? For that?
5. No longer need to feel so incredibly foolish
5. I’m no longer forced to listen to Enya!
6. I no longer have to suppress giggles during ceremonies
7. I can admit to being the monist that I am and be done with it.
8. Can be amused by the TV show “Bullshit” by Penn and Teller
9. Can realize ironic biases in the TV show “Bullshit” by Penn and Teller
Thursday, July 28, 2005
A girl in her natural habitat...
Meanwhile, back in Columbus
I'm still in shock at how difficult it is for a certified professional in one state to to make the transition to another. Now I understand why so many people who work at convenience stores are PhDs and nonsuch but are going bonkers trying to get their creditials moved from overseas. I'm just trying to move them from Pennsylvania to Ohio!
I don't work in a convenience store. The one convenience store I loved in the Philly area doesn't exist out here, so I don't even go inside most of the ones here. For the time being, I'm working part time in a wine shop in the North Market. It's kind of like a farmer's market, but it's in between the business district and the trendy shopping area. Yes, I have to walk up to four blocks in order to find affordable parking, so it must be in an urban area, but there's a man in Amish clothing selling honey and jam. I doubt he's truly Amish since I sell him a beer on hot days, but he puts forth a great image.
There are some major advantages to working in the wine shop. I'm learning a lot about the products, so I don't feel like a moron when asked if I'd like to order a bottle when out to dinner. Hell, now I know how much the price has been marked up. I'm also meeting some really amazing people who work and shop in the Market. The man who just bought a case and opened a bottle to share with us is apparently high up in government or military (I know specifically, I'm being cagy and not saying which). The woman who sold me coffee yesterday is top in her medical school class. My boss speaks several languages enough to get around the world, and he probably knows more about the inner workings of this town than the mayor.
Me? I'm just a Philly transplant who is hoping to start substitute teaching as soon as the first permanent teacher needs to sleep in. I don't know a lot of people here, although I'm slowly making friends and aquaintances. I'm by myself a lot of the time, so I'm starting to get back to my creative writing, especially on Mondays when I have the wine shop to myself and get tired of dusting bottles.
More news as events warrant!
I don't work in a convenience store. The one convenience store I loved in the Philly area doesn't exist out here, so I don't even go inside most of the ones here. For the time being, I'm working part time in a wine shop in the North Market. It's kind of like a farmer's market, but it's in between the business district and the trendy shopping area. Yes, I have to walk up to four blocks in order to find affordable parking, so it must be in an urban area, but there's a man in Amish clothing selling honey and jam. I doubt he's truly Amish since I sell him a beer on hot days, but he puts forth a great image.
There are some major advantages to working in the wine shop. I'm learning a lot about the products, so I don't feel like a moron when asked if I'd like to order a bottle when out to dinner. Hell, now I know how much the price has been marked up. I'm also meeting some really amazing people who work and shop in the Market. The man who just bought a case and opened a bottle to share with us is apparently high up in government or military (I know specifically, I'm being cagy and not saying which). The woman who sold me coffee yesterday is top in her medical school class. My boss speaks several languages enough to get around the world, and he probably knows more about the inner workings of this town than the mayor.
Me? I'm just a Philly transplant who is hoping to start substitute teaching as soon as the first permanent teacher needs to sleep in. I don't know a lot of people here, although I'm slowly making friends and aquaintances. I'm by myself a lot of the time, so I'm starting to get back to my creative writing, especially on Mondays when I have the wine shop to myself and get tired of dusting bottles.
More news as events warrant!
