I've spent the morning on the local city college's website, debating my future. Do I choose a Business degree, and take classes in boringness until I die of boring along with every single other undecided undergraduate since a B.A. in Business became the new B.A. in Liberal Arts? And be miserable while squinting over Business Law books, but with the whisper of a promising future to be had, a future involving this symbol "$", but not in red? OR, do I pursue my undergrad in Art, focusing on Applied Design, which includes classes such as "Applied Crafts" and "Jewelry/Metalsmithing"? This DOES include the future whispers of ($$$), but it also includes almost as much non-misery as the college course offering "Introduction to Chocolate".
After the morning of staring my course plan paperwork down like it was a leprechaun, I think I've decided on the Art coursework requirements. I mean, I've finished almost all of my GE in the last 6 years of misery, half-heartedness, and class-dropping (with a 3.5 average anyway), so all that's left is the stuff that actually teaches you something about what you're studying... i.e. Business or Art. I'm leaving the Business Law behind with a squeal of relief in favor of messiness and glee, and possible bragging about my nerdiness to complete strangers. w00t!
This is a big decision. I mean, I've been steadily hacking away, one or two classes at a time, for seemingly EVER. Now there is a finite number set before me. The end is drawing near.
P.S. All this drama is for an AA
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Sunday, November 23, 2008
I am a Fiction Whore
I had some time off this week - due to the belly-achin' and having nothing to do at work, which coincided nicely with Jesse knocking an entire shelf's worth of books off of the shelf (how? I have NO idea). In the ensuing melee, he also found the copy of Twilight that I'd purchased a month ago and haven't been able find since because it was hidden behind all the other one million books I own. I have the book collection of a permanently single, 40 year old Creative Writing major that also has 4 cats.
ANYWAY - so I started reading Twilight. DAMN. That was the most romantic book I had ever read in my whole life, and I've been reading trashy romance novels with feet-sweeping and heaving bosoms for years. I, of course, bought the next book. And finished it in a day, leaving an empty void where the protagonists should have been. So I went and bought the next two, even though we barely have enough dollars for food. These were more important than food. They were life-sustaining. So I finished the last two Friday and yesterday, even forgoing dancing and hanging out with Jesse at the coffee shop, which he did VOLUNTARILY, so I'm sure I'll never ever hear the end of that, ever. I'll ask him if he'll go with me, and this is what he'll say: Hm. Look who wants to go to the coffeeshop NOW, would ya? Now that you don't have your vampires to keep you company anymore, you'll settle for your darling, loving husband? AND, he will be correct.
Now that I've finished all four of them, the last with skepticism and a burning dislike for the female protagonist in human form because she was a stupid whore.... I feel like that was one of the best series I've read in a long time. NOT ONLY did she NOT pull the whole "oh, but it's better to remain human, for humanity is the saving grace of the world" bullshit that so many fantasy authors seem to pull because they're not creative enough to imagine the whole life of another species (p.s. I HATE IT when authors know you want the man and the woman be together forever, but they won't let them), she also pretty much tied up all the loose end and didn't leave you to wonder, which is another thing I hate about some writers. They leave the "what if" on purpose. It drives me crazy. I wouldn't have read the book if I didn't want to know the damn ending. But I digress. Best series ever. I will be reading them until the bindings fall off, and then I will buy them again because I want Stephenie whatever to prosper and flourish.
Obviously, I am passionate about these books, which leads me to my last point. After reading these, I noticed last night at Borders that I felt more like myself than I have felt at ANY point since moving to Los Angeles. I have been concentrating so hard on how much I dislike it here and want to get out, but all that was forgotten with the introduction of Bella and Edward. I was on home turf, loving something excitedly, going to a bookstore to get out of the cold outside and buying a small soy mocha. Looking for my handsome husband to come find me and roll his eyeball at me. I was happy, and I have not been for a year. THAT, my friends, is why the Twilight series is the best thing in the whole damned world.
ANYWAY - so I started reading Twilight. DAMN. That was the most romantic book I had ever read in my whole life, and I've been reading trashy romance novels with feet-sweeping and heaving bosoms for years. I, of course, bought the next book. And finished it in a day, leaving an empty void where the protagonists should have been. So I went and bought the next two, even though we barely have enough dollars for food. These were more important than food. They were life-sustaining. So I finished the last two Friday and yesterday, even forgoing dancing and hanging out with Jesse at the coffee shop, which he did VOLUNTARILY, so I'm sure I'll never ever hear the end of that, ever. I'll ask him if he'll go with me, and this is what he'll say: Hm. Look who wants to go to the coffeeshop NOW, would ya? Now that you don't have your vampires to keep you company anymore, you'll settle for your darling, loving husband? AND, he will be correct.
Now that I've finished all four of them, the last with skepticism and a burning dislike for the female protagonist in human form because she was a stupid whore.... I feel like that was one of the best series I've read in a long time. NOT ONLY did she NOT pull the whole "oh, but it's better to remain human, for humanity is the saving grace of the world" bullshit that so many fantasy authors seem to pull because they're not creative enough to imagine the whole life of another species (p.s. I HATE IT when authors know you want the man and the woman be together forever, but they won't let them), she also pretty much tied up all the loose end and didn't leave you to wonder, which is another thing I hate about some writers. They leave the "what if" on purpose. It drives me crazy. I wouldn't have read the book if I didn't want to know the damn ending. But I digress. Best series ever. I will be reading them until the bindings fall off, and then I will buy them again because I want Stephenie whatever to prosper and flourish.
Obviously, I am passionate about these books, which leads me to my last point. After reading these, I noticed last night at Borders that I felt more like myself than I have felt at ANY point since moving to Los Angeles. I have been concentrating so hard on how much I dislike it here and want to get out, but all that was forgotten with the introduction of Bella and Edward. I was on home turf, loving something excitedly, going to a bookstore to get out of the cold outside and buying a small soy mocha. Looking for my handsome husband to come find me and roll his eyeball at me. I was happy, and I have not been for a year. THAT, my friends, is why the Twilight series is the best thing in the whole damned world.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Belly-Achin'
I don't know what it was about last night, but apparently Monday night was the night doomed for Fail. What with failing at coffee shop availability, failing at not being harassed by the Long Beach mafia, and failing at staying alive after consuming Greek food, it turned out to be pretty much eternal fail. If eternity is for one day plus.
Coffee shop fail was just failure at finding an available table at which to sit and write the letter I've been trying to finish for over a week.
Mafia fail. OH MAN. As I bypassed the coffee shop for want of a place to sit, I formulated my following plan, that of going to George's Greek Cafe, to have me some deliciousness and table space with a candle, which I promptly received. I also received the unwanted attentions of this little short balding man named JR who mobbled on over from his spot at the bar on 1/2 price wine night to tell me how attractive I was just sitting by myself. Then he double-checked my age... you know, just to make sure. Those teenagers sure can look old these days. After I politely declined his invitations to sit with him and his four similarly aged (50) "buddies" at the bar because I am MARRIED, he merely returned to his assigned seat and continued leering at me and shrugging suggestively for several more minutes. Until the rest rest of his cronies arrived, with their shiny shoes and black suits with the pointy collars and the cigars and the cursing at each other as prolifically as possible, until the bartendress had to holler at them by name, much like a mother would to her rowdy children that she secretly blames for the loss of her acting career.
They continued sniggering and pointedly glancing, even asking if I had to go home to my husband. Well. Yes. I married him. I like him better than 55 year old balding men with nothing better to do than hang out with a gaggle of other men and slap each others "backs" while cursing at the television. I left.
My food however, was delicious, at the expense of sending me home from work early today with complaints of stomach clenching. HOWEVER: she sent me home after I asked without first finding out why. Slow? Yes.
But I am home early today, sleeping off the Greek poison, posting blogs, falling asleep while posting blogs (which are done while sitting on a balance ball, so that is interesting), and generally doing what I do when I don't feel good. Also eating oatmeal with peanut butter in it.
Coffee shop fail was just failure at finding an available table at which to sit and write the letter I've been trying to finish for over a week.
Mafia fail. OH MAN. As I bypassed the coffee shop for want of a place to sit, I formulated my following plan, that of going to George's Greek Cafe, to have me some deliciousness and table space with a candle, which I promptly received. I also received the unwanted attentions of this little short balding man named JR who mobbled on over from his spot at the bar on 1/2 price wine night to tell me how attractive I was just sitting by myself. Then he double-checked my age... you know, just to make sure. Those teenagers sure can look old these days. After I politely declined his invitations to sit with him and his four similarly aged (50) "buddies" at the bar because I am MARRIED, he merely returned to his assigned seat and continued leering at me and shrugging suggestively for several more minutes. Until the rest rest of his cronies arrived, with their shiny shoes and black suits with the pointy collars and the cigars and the cursing at each other as prolifically as possible, until the bartendress had to holler at them by name, much like a mother would to her rowdy children that she secretly blames for the loss of her acting career.
They continued sniggering and pointedly glancing, even asking if I had to go home to my husband. Well. Yes. I married him. I like him better than 55 year old balding men with nothing better to do than hang out with a gaggle of other men and slap each others "backs" while cursing at the television. I left.
My food however, was delicious, at the expense of sending me home from work early today with complaints of stomach clenching. HOWEVER: she sent me home after I asked without first finding out why. Slow? Yes.
But I am home early today, sleeping off the Greek poison, posting blogs, falling asleep while posting blogs (which are done while sitting on a balance ball, so that is interesting), and generally doing what I do when I don't feel good. Also eating oatmeal with peanut butter in it.
Monday, November 17, 2008
And the Monster Appeareth
I am SO lucky I married a patient man - one with sisters, and thusly with experience in the areas of raging hormones. Because my hormones, and me right along with them, they rage.
This weekend was a doozy, as far as the raging. Remember my statement about being possessed? This time, not by crafty urges, but by all the emotions of a recently caught wildebeest being auctioned off for use as farm labor. I was angry, I was worried, I was angry, I was hurt, but really mostly full of rage(ing hormones).
And Jesse put up with it. He was even nice to me, which is remarkable - especially because I was so ingracious and full of rage at his being nice to me. "You want to take me to my favorite coffee place (inflection of anger - imagine the tone of voice as 'you want me to cut off my own chin with an oatmeal spoon?')? FINE!" And so he did. And it was closed, which was like a gentle slap in the face to remind that he still tried to make me happy, even though it was fail. We wandered around the very interesting 4th street area, chock full of shops of oddness and quirk, which I was too cranky to go in - but he took me anyway, even though he would MUCH rather have been home dominating the world on his laptop.
In repayment, I continued to rage. Until yesterday morning, at which point all my rage dissipated like someone reached in and massaged it out of the knot in my gut, or pushed it down to my belly so that it could transform itself into muscle cramps. Better cramps than useless rage and anxiety, I always say.
He also made corned beef and cabbage. Which I don't really like, but MAN, that is a lot of effort for a fatty lump of flesh. I appreciate the effort of that particular dish - especially because I will prolly never make it. Because I love my husband.
This weekend was a doozy, as far as the raging. Remember my statement about being possessed? This time, not by crafty urges, but by all the emotions of a recently caught wildebeest being auctioned off for use as farm labor. I was angry, I was worried, I was angry, I was hurt, but really mostly full of rage(ing hormones).
And Jesse put up with it. He was even nice to me, which is remarkable - especially because I was so ingracious and full of rage at his being nice to me. "You want to take me to my favorite coffee place (inflection of anger - imagine the tone of voice as 'you want me to cut off my own chin with an oatmeal spoon?')? FINE!" And so he did. And it was closed, which was like a gentle slap in the face to remind that he still tried to make me happy, even though it was fail. We wandered around the very interesting 4th street area, chock full of shops of oddness and quirk, which I was too cranky to go in - but he took me anyway, even though he would MUCH rather have been home dominating the world on his laptop.
In repayment, I continued to rage. Until yesterday morning, at which point all my rage dissipated like someone reached in and massaged it out of the knot in my gut, or pushed it down to my belly so that it could transform itself into muscle cramps. Better cramps than useless rage and anxiety, I always say.
He also made corned beef and cabbage. Which I don't really like, but MAN, that is a lot of effort for a fatty lump of flesh. I appreciate the effort of that particular dish - especially because I will prolly never make it. Because I love my husband.
Friday, November 14, 2008
I Can't Believe it's not Gutter
Our company Christmas party is coming up in a few weeks, and we have to start assembling bowling teams. I of course, want a clever name and chill people - mad skillz do not matter, because our team will pretty much automatically lose because I'm on the team. So chill people are, of course, imperative. Anyone with over an ounce of competitive spirit would see me as a liability and as the obstacle to the WIN. Which is true.
It seems like the team will be very diverse... myself, a tall strapping young black dude, a philippina hippie, a mexican guy, and a 45-year-old version of myself if I were to become an executive, thus far. We need at least 6 people... who knows what the last few will be like.
It's going to prove difficult to find a name that will please all folks involved. I really like the title name, or Gutter Humiliation... the latter would mean we would have to actually WIN though, and that is unlikely. The strapping young man keeps thinking of fairly unoriginal names, and I am saddened. I do not want to be on The Alley Cats, because then I would already be a loser without even picking up a bowling ball.
This looks to be entertaining. I will keep you posted. Obviously.
It seems like the team will be very diverse... myself, a tall strapping young black dude, a philippina hippie, a mexican guy, and a 45-year-old version of myself if I were to become an executive, thus far. We need at least 6 people... who knows what the last few will be like.
It's going to prove difficult to find a name that will please all folks involved. I really like the title name, or Gutter Humiliation... the latter would mean we would have to actually WIN though, and that is unlikely. The strapping young man keeps thinking of fairly unoriginal names, and I am saddened. I do not want to be on The Alley Cats, because then I would already be a loser without even picking up a bowling ball.
This looks to be entertaining. I will keep you posted. Obviously.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
In This Aspect, I am Like a Dude
Or, like my Dad.
Just under a week ago, I invested my $6.97 in the low-model, wire and discard wood wire loom and have since been looming like a woman possessed. Well, not so much like a woman possessed - I AM the woman possessed.
And now my low-end, late 90's Saturn of built-for-kids! bead loom is not enough. Who can be limited to 33 rows!? NO! Currently, the correct answer to that question is: You are, Jenny. You are. I want bigger, better, more rows wide and much longer. You can't bead POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS in a 6" space. I need the Mazerati of bead looms. Though, that's not entirely true. I think I would want it and then become overwhelmed. I want the Mercedes of bead looms, only not in that ultimately boring, specially Mercedes shade of pasty beigepink.
I can't justify this purchase yet - we have NO DOLLARS, and I just bought the starter model. I feel like more than a week is warranted before I spend $50.00 on a souped up double-wide.
AND. Christmas is coming.
I don't know if I can wait that long.
Just under a week ago, I invested my $6.97 in the low-model, wire and discard wood wire loom and have since been looming like a woman possessed. Well, not so much like a woman possessed - I AM the woman possessed.
And now my low-end, late 90's Saturn of built-for-kids! bead loom is not enough. Who can be limited to 33 rows!? NO! Currently, the correct answer to that question is: You are, Jenny. You are. I want bigger, better, more rows wide and much longer. You can't bead POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS in a 6" space. I need the Mazerati of bead looms. Though, that's not entirely true. I think I would want it and then become overwhelmed. I want the Mercedes of bead looms, only not in that ultimately boring, specially Mercedes shade of pasty beigepink.
I can't justify this purchase yet - we have NO DOLLARS, and I just bought the starter model. I feel like more than a week is warranted before I spend $50.00 on a souped up double-wide.
AND. Christmas is coming.
I don't know if I can wait that long.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Hours at work: 7.75. Hours of work done: 1.25
It's come to the point where I want to saw off my chin with my oatmeal spoon. I have never felt BAD about getting paid, but srsly. I've been sitting at my cubicle for many hours, and I have yet to have something assigned to me that I can't finish in 10 minutes. Not to say I'll ALWAYS be so damned efficient, but I just get so excited to have something to do that I pounce all over like a cat to the 'nip. Note: I don't rub my face in my work and act high. I wait until I get home and do that to my making-stuff supplies.
I cross-referenced THREAD today. That's what I'm down to. Though, I did get assigned more future responsibilities, should the future ever arrive. I've already prepared myself for these future assignments by making spreadsheets that will assist me in organizing my future responsibilities. I'm sure that in 3 weeks, I'll look at this post and want to spit in my own hair. Until that point, let the chin-sawing begin.
**Though. I do get to daydream a lot, and I've been daydreaming about beads and things I can do with beads. I dream of beads. I think of beads when Jesse's trying to get frisky, until I have to remind myself that beads do not relate to sex. I'm thinking of setting up shop on Etsy, but I need to look into it a little bit more first. Maybe I'll do that looking tonight when I get home. Or tomorrow when I still have nothing to do during the day.
I cross-referenced THREAD today. That's what I'm down to. Though, I did get assigned more future responsibilities, should the future ever arrive. I've already prepared myself for these future assignments by making spreadsheets that will assist me in organizing my future responsibilities. I'm sure that in 3 weeks, I'll look at this post and want to spit in my own hair. Until that point, let the chin-sawing begin.
**Though. I do get to daydream a lot, and I've been daydreaming about beads and things I can do with beads. I dream of beads. I think of beads when Jesse's trying to get frisky, until I have to remind myself that beads do not relate to sex. I'm thinking of setting up shop on Etsy, but I need to look into it a little bit more first. Maybe I'll do that looking tonight when I get home. Or tomorrow when I still have nothing to do during the day.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Saturday, November 8, 2008
What Happens when Nerds and Crafts Merge
I spent my last night and during-Jesse-making-dinner hours crafting - I believe I've mentioned how the crafting bug has recently bitten again, and I just feel the urge to sit really hunched over with tiny things in my hands. I was so bitten, I actually drove to the store after I got off work to get the tool I needed, instead of waiting 1 more day to go there and not have to contend with idiot drivers during rush-hour traffic on the poorly regulated stop-light roads of Lakewood. You have no idea how hardcore that is, unless of course you drive in Lakewood at 6:00 on a Thursday fairly often.
I was smitten with a blurb from CRAFT magazine that showed this blogger who cross-stitches old pixelated video-game sprites, because pixels are square and cross-stitches are square - easy things to combing. My thoughts were well... beads are almost square, and certainly can look like pixels. So I downloaded the patterns and sprites for unknown hundreds of old video game characters, a few of which I have never even heard of, and nearly all of which I have never played or even seen first-hand. But I'm friends with geeks, and they'll know. I've even gotten some suggestions for things I never ever would have heard of, like "A Boy and His Blob." Would have slipped straight through the cracks - it still might, because the only pictures out there are very tiny and unsuitable for stealing and converting to glass.
I also happened upon a website for peeps who make leather jewelry from low-res pictures of actual jewelry. So Cool!
Anyway, the fruits of my experimental labor Note how lumpy the generic craft-store beads for untalented children are yielded the following:
Do not ask what I am going to do with a square piece of Megaman. I do not know.
I was smitten with a blurb from CRAFT magazine that showed this blogger who cross-stitches old pixelated video-game sprites, because pixels are square and cross-stitches are square - easy things to combing. My thoughts were well... beads are almost square, and certainly can look like pixels. So I downloaded the patterns and sprites for unknown hundreds of old video game characters, a few of which I have never even heard of, and nearly all of which I have never played or even seen first-hand. But I'm friends with geeks, and they'll know. I've even gotten some suggestions for things I never ever would have heard of, like "A Boy and His Blob." Would have slipped straight through the cracks - it still might, because the only pictures out there are very tiny and unsuitable for stealing and converting to glass.
I also happened upon a website for peeps who make leather jewelry from low-res pictures of actual jewelry. So Cool!
Anyway, the fruits of my experimental labor Note how lumpy the generic craft-store beads for untalented children are yielded the following:
Do not ask what I am going to do with a square piece of Megaman. I do not know.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Post-Election / Midterm Restart
I've been not writing because a) I was watching election coverage all last night, and b) I had a midterm in Macroeconomics last night before I got to watch any election coverage. Who cares about the duties of the FOMC if you've got Obamarama going on?! I finished my exam way first. This either means that a) I am WAY more brilliant than any of my whiskey tango fellow students, or b) I totally blew it but am too pompous to realize that I was wrong on any of the questions. I lean toward the former.
The most inspiring thing about the election last night (out of many inspiring things, including tears on Jesse Jackson's face, who I didn't know was a GIANT and Oprah is a MIDGET), was when Margaret and I went out walking at 9:15 to get her free Starbucks dammit, we stopped on the sidewalk in front of the local sports bar with the million TVs, and so did everyone else. The restaurant was at capacity - no one else was allowed in or else they would all die if the restaurant caught on fire from all the love and unity. But really, it was like the whole nation - no, probably the whole WORLD had stopped, and was watching CNN live and not giving a damn about petty things like going through the green light at the intersection. It was an awe-ful experience, full of awe, and MAN, THAT GUY IS A GOOD SPEAKER. His speech writer should be paid a million dollars.
I was disappointed in the Republican celebration/defeat whatever party in Arizona. I mean, the guy is trying to GRACIOUSLY congratulate his new president, his opponent nonetheless, and the 'tards in the crowd totally disrespected their own man while trying to disrespect the other. I thought it was a show of tacky.
I also haven't been writing because whenever I get upset, I get WAY less clever and funny, and I didn't want to burden anyone reading with the boring shlog I come up with when I'm angry or frustrated or. I'm still that, but bouyed by the 'Bama, so you get a short blurb of w00t, but only for a moment.
P.S. The time stamp on this post is correct...
The most inspiring thing about the election last night (out of many inspiring things, including tears on Jesse Jackson's face, who I didn't know was a GIANT and Oprah is a MIDGET), was when Margaret and I went out walking at 9:15 to get her free Starbucks dammit, we stopped on the sidewalk in front of the local sports bar with the million TVs, and so did everyone else. The restaurant was at capacity - no one else was allowed in or else they would all die if the restaurant caught on fire from all the love and unity. But really, it was like the whole nation - no, probably the whole WORLD had stopped, and was watching CNN live and not giving a damn about petty things like going through the green light at the intersection. It was an awe-ful experience, full of awe, and MAN, THAT GUY IS A GOOD SPEAKER. His speech writer should be paid a million dollars.
I was disappointed in the Republican celebration/defeat whatever party in Arizona. I mean, the guy is trying to GRACIOUSLY congratulate his new president, his opponent nonetheless, and the 'tards in the crowd totally disrespected their own man while trying to disrespect the other. I thought it was a show of tacky.
I also haven't been writing because whenever I get upset, I get WAY less clever and funny, and I didn't want to burden anyone reading with the boring shlog I come up with when I'm angry or frustrated or
P.S. The time stamp on this post is correct...
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