Halloween Costumes

[SHADOW]
Boys and girls of every age
Wouldn't you like to see something strange?

[SIAMESE SHADOW]
Come with us and you will see
This, our town of Halloween

[PUMPKIN PATCH CHORUS]
This is Halloween, this is Halloween
Pumpkins scream in the dead of night

[GHOSTS]
This is Halloween, everybody make a scene
Trick or treat till the neighbors gonna die of fright
It's our town, everybody screm
In this town of Halloween

- Lyrics from "Nightmare Before Christmas

Last Saturday night, hubbie and I went to a party. As I am getting older, I go to fewer and fewer parties on Halloween. I mean, this is the first year in three or four years we went out. Not on Halloween night, but the nearest weekend.

During the evening, I was looking at the different costumes. And costumes have changed over the years – though the intent has stayed the same. So I thought I would go over some common costumes and what they mean about the person. Just for fun.

Cat Costumes
I have dressed up as a cat before, but it has been a while. Black cat costumes are fairly common – a black leotard, a tail, a pair of ears in your hair and some eye liner for whiskers, and you are there. Okay, now-a-days, most use costume makeup instead of eye liner, but you get the idea.

I saw a couple of cats at the party, and I remember why I will never be a cat again. You have a tail on your ass, and everybody looks at your ass. When I was 22, I liked men looking at my ass. At thirty-something, my ass has some miles on it and it is not nearly as firm. In short, gravity is a bitch.

Cat costumes are for young women – as a way of saying, look at me, I have a hot body and I may or may not focus any attention on you, like a cat. Very finicky.

Witch Costumes
Witch costumes come in three varieties: (1) Sexy Witch, (2) Funny/Good-natured Witch, and (3) Scary Witch. Sexy witch wants to be seen as a sexy bitch – someone who is both sexy and evil. And, yes, I have been sexy witch more than I would like to admit. It is an easy costume to put together. We all have (LBDs) little black dresses. That, a witch's hat and a cackle, and you have sexy witch.

Funny/Good-natured witch is a witch I am less familiar with. Think Witches of Eastwick. No, that is not the movie. Another movie with three witches. Oh, well, it is my amateur opinion that funny/good-natured witches want to be sexy witches but they hold back. They don't want to live the fantasy because they are a bit scared.

Scary witch, is normally a really nice person who wants to be nasty for a night. It is like all of her hostility from helping others needs a release. Boil some children in the kettle, turn handsome men into frogs, and change weather. Create havoc because you normally create an atmosphere of cooperation.

Prostitutes/Sluts
I have not actually seen many women dress as prostitutes lately. Perhaps sluts have taken over the type of costume. Again, nice women wanting to express their sexuality. I have never wanted to dress this way – though I lived it (not prostitute but slut) for a while. I never want to go back to slut, and even when I was one, I did not want to communicate that to others. Closet slut, I guess.

Sexual Innuendo Costumes
You have seen bricklayer and brick – sexual partners who are communicating who is getting laid that night. Come to think about it, with carpenter, the sexual innuendos are so much more – a good carpenter "nails", "screws", and can even "measure." Either the pair is making bold statements about what will happen later, or professing their sexual relationship publicly, though they can explain it away if confronted. "It is just a costume."

Cute Animals/Characters
I was Belle the other night – gold dress, wig, etc., the Belle in Disney's Beauty and the Beast. I got my costume from a shop, so it was not original. But it was fun playing dress-up.

Part of me loves playing dress-up, perhaps helping me remember when I was a little girl. A time in my life when I had almost no responsibilities, lots of love and played a lot. I almost forgot big dreams. I sometimes wonder if people who dress up this way for the same reasons. It is comfortable, reassuring.

Well, tonight is Halloween. Just remember what costume you wear may tell something about you. What will it say about you?

Oh, and some helpful hints – for those who will not be at home, leave a bucket of candy. Yeah, it will get ransacked, but it shows effort. Now, we will not be giving out big candy bars – love to give out the minis. But the houses that give out the full candy bars – I would like to say thanks in advance. I won't be "trick-or-treating," but I know there will be lots of kids that will be happy. Poor parents with kids bouncing off the walls. A small price to pay for the gift of kids, though.

Happy Halloween!

Normal Time and End of an Era

Sunday ended Daylight Savings Time. Sort of a pity, because if Daylight Savings Time has started, I would be able to claim that my religion precludes me from observing Daylight Savings Time and would have been able to sleep in an additional hour. I will have to wait until the spring to use this excuse and get my additional hour of sleep.

Oh, well.

You know, we all are wrong. Well, maybe everybody but Grant, perhaps Prata.

When I was growing up, I thought the Boston Celtics were a racist group. But it was from my perspective. Okay, my Dad (the knower of all) hated Larry Bird – his impression was that he was over-hyped. Perhaps passionate basketball fans cannot like both Bird and Johnson. Anyway, he thought Boston was racist – normally four of the five men on the floor were white, sort of an aberration.

Red Auerbach died recently, and I did not know some of the facts:

1. He drafted Chuck Cooper, the first black player drafted in NBA history.

2. He was the first coach to start five black players (in the 1964-65 season).

3. He named Bill Russell his successor when he retired from coaching in 1966. Okay, I know he hired Bill Russell, but I did not know it was his successor. And, yeah, Bill Russell is one of the best players in NBA history. If MJ never played, he may be the best player ever.

Ever notice that sometimes our impression of the world, based on our experiences, don't really jive with reality. I am only a thirty-something white girl, and I have not seen things in the 1950s, 1960s and really anything political in the 1970s (when in pigtails, I don't even remember much about the "I am not a crook" guy or Ford. I just thought Ford was some guy who kept tripping while getting off airplanes.

Funny, I always pegged Boston (and Mr. Auerbach) as racist. Maybe I was wrong.

Creative Voting Practices

I voted recently – I mail my vote in because, well, it is so much easier for me. When I started voting, I am not sure there were absentee ballots, and if they did have them, I did not know about them. I used to like voting on the actual day of voting, but it lost its luster.

And if you think about it, voting takes a lot of energy to pick the best candidate that reflects what you want him or her to do in Washington (or in the state or locally).

I am going to describe a voting decision tree – the type of tree that, if you don't have a favorite candidate, might help you out! I can write this out in diagram, but, alas, I can't scan it into my computer. Darned it.

Okay, a decision tree basically guides you to an answer by answering simple questions. Without further ado, let us begin.

1. Have you ever slept with the candidate? If the answer is yes, voter for the candidate. Reasoning: if you have bedded a public official, you may have "pull" because you have already pulled parts of their anatomy. I mean, you may be able to sleep with the person in the future – if you were good in bed. Or you may be able to blackmail – if you have pictures. The possibilities, while not endless, are interesting. So this trumps all. If the answer is no, go to 2.

2. Is the candidate dead? If yes, vote for the candidate. He/she will not lie to you, and that is worth your vote. Also, having a dead candidate win over a live candidate is funny as hell, and you ought to have some fun while voting. Plus it gives material for David Letterman. If the answer is no, go to 3.

3. Is the candidate an actor? If yes, vote for the candidate. Notice that I am not asking about Democrat, Republican, Libertarian, or from the Green Party. The reason for this is that candidates make good news. They put themselves in the public eye, more so than normal candidates. I don't know if Schwarzenegger is good or bad for California, but he gives one heck of a sound bite. I mean Jay Leno knows that the Terminator brings eyeballs to the show, even if Angelides didn't get the same air time (he has not been scheduled but probably will appear because of FCC rules). If the answer is no, go to 4.

4. Is the candidate a lesbian? If yes, vote for the candidate. Now this part if for the guys. Think about it – if you ask your wife for a threesome, and she is reticent, perhaps doing it with a candidate would push her over the edge. Now, you know I have not cheated on hubbie in a long while, but I think I would screw with the President of the United States. Not proud of it, but if he wanted me, I would not pass that up. I was upset with President Clinton for Monica and the blue dress, but after thinking about it, I was never that upset with the act itself. Upset with the cover-up for sure, with the whole "depends on the definition of is." But the actual sex – he probably got offers every day. I would not offer myself up, but if asked, "hell yes" would have been my reply. But I wouldn't just have sex with a mayor or even governor. Well, maybe California's current "gov". Just kidding. Sort of. If the answer is no, go to 5.

5. Has the candidate a past that seems entertaining? If yes, vote for the candidate. I mean, if during the campaign, there are pictures of the wife in lingerie that surface (or of the daughter on myspace), the brother is a colorful boozer, the wife is a ditz, whatever seems entertaining. Again, think entertainment more than governance. If the answer is no, go to 6.

6. Is the candidate handsome/pretty but the family not-so-much. If the answer is yes, vote for the candidate. Face it, after they are in office and are screwing things up, at least you will see unflattering photos of the family and can console yourself that they go home to them at night and you can pretend that they have personalities that match their looks. If the answer is no, go to 7.

7. If all of these filters do not lead to a "yes" vote, vote against the incumbent. The incumbent has several advantages in winning a race (name recognition, franking laws, using government assets/opportunities to place your name in front of voters). Vote against the incumbent; give the challenger a better chance.

Now go and vote. I actually use number 7 exclusively (when I know little about a candidate, and sometimes when I know more). My vote against the system.

Creativity and Bald Cats

I have no thoughts today – really. You know, I am so glad that breathing does not involve the cognitive functions of the brain, for if it did, I would have passed out two minutes ago.

I read a comment this morning which I absolutely love. Mal wrote:

we did not have fetal pigs...we had bald cats...or as one wag put it "shaved pussys"

I have done a great deal of technical writing over the years. My work is concise, clear, broadly understandable and boring as hell. It is not creative and it has actually stifled my attempts at creative fiction. I am so good at it that I think I understand what "muscle bound" really means and feels like.

Okay, the bald pussies were not where I was going. I wanted to talk about being muscle-bound. Now, I don't have many muscles – or at least reasonably developed muscles. I heard this week that woman weight lifters have an extremely hard time becoming pregnant and carrying a baby to term because of strong abdominal (or if you are a postal carrier reading this, "tummy") muscles. I am not against a good workout, but too much structure has side effects.

The same may be true in other areas. I talked a little bit about creativity yesterday. Some probably thought it was a veiled attempt at contacting my muse. Perhaps. But I really appreciate creativity. I see books or blogs and love when I find creative ideas. A different way of looking at things, or the turn of a phrase.

I have not been reading other people's blogs much lately. Sort of burned last week, you know, but I always enjoy finding a wonderful phrase. One of my favorite bloggers of all time – Ddot. He always has a gem nestled in his entries.

One of the lines that I saw him use recently, is actually the tag line for Post Expression: "Death ends a life, not a relationship."

Post Expression is a website that sends messages from you to others after you die. Sounds a bit creepy to me, but I love the tag line. Those of us who loose loved ones continue a relationship after death; I can see that.

Back to creativity – I think we should revel in creativity, but not randomness. There is a difference, one of those things that is hard to explain, but you know when you see it. Creativity is not just good, original writing. I have seen creative furniture, creative car design, and creative iPod accessories.

Tomorrow, I may write about creative voting practices. Now that is an interesting idea! I am sure you would rather me talk about that than bald pussies!

Creativity, Fetal Pigs and Madness

At that moment when I put my foot on the step the idea came to me, without anything in my former thoughts seeming to have paved the way for it, that the transformations I had used to define the Fuchsian functions were identical with non-Euclidean geometry.

- Jules H. Poincare

Okay, for those who don't know who Poincare is, well, let's just call him a French guy who could not get laid when he was in school. Actually, he is the first person to discover a chaotic deterministic system which laid the foundations of modern chaos theory. He both excelled in the arts and sciences, and basically he also believed that when you let your mind wander, you may unleash your creative juices. Okay, there are a few things wrong with seeing the world his way – he was a genius, and you cannot say that his views are necessarily all of our views. He and, let's say, Paris Hilton, probably don't share too many things. Though I am wondering how many people have shared body fluids with her.

You know, when I was growing up, creativity was not rewarded. Think about it; it was probably the same way in your schools as well. When in elementary school, for instance, we were told to color in the lines. Wouldn't it be more creative to expand the lines sometimes, or help the lines express themselves, if you are highly creative.

When in middle and high school, I remember learning about "writing," and extremely creative discipline. With a mere 26 letters in the English language, you can create things as diverse as erotica, literary reviews, and poetry with no capital letters and diaries. But when we learned how to write, we were first told to give an outline of what we were going to write and then expand the outline, eventually yielding a story. How creative is that? No very. How stifling is that? Very.

And for those of us who wrote good outlines in school, we got our A's and may not have ever been very creative.

There was never a genius without a tincture of madness.

- Aristotle

Madness, like creativity, is not rewarded in school. When you take your fetal pig, talk to it like it can understand you, and sympathize with its plight, the science department does not give you extra credit. When you insist that another person inside your head answered for you when you littered your answer with obscenities, you are not rewarded. I actually think the Aristotle quote was lifted for dialog for "Pirates of the Caribbean," though I cannot prove it.

I leave you today with the opening line of "Auguries of Innocence", by William Blake:

To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.

Embarrassment and Singing

When I was in fifth grade, I learned to hate singing. Okay, when you hear that someone does not like to sing, you assume it is because they think they don't sing well – either because (1) they can't sing, or (2) mean people say they can't sing (whether it is true or not).

For me, juggling is the reason I don't like to sing. In fifth grade, I had a music teacher that thought that not only should we sing in her class, it is because she thought we should juggle as well. What juggling has to do with music, I really don't know. Perhaps she thought some of us were destined for Vaudeville.

I am not saying I am uncoordinated, but I just could not juggle. I could not keep two balls in the air, let alone three. And juggling pins – I would beat myself silly with them. With the newly acquired bumps on my head, I would confuse even the most advanced phrenologists.

You know, embarrassment is a horrible thing. For some of us, it keeps us from doing things that we enjoy. For me, in fifth grade, I would associate embarrassment with singing, not because my singing was bad, but because of a grade school series of incidents.

I thought about this today because of the embarrassment I felt last Friday. It just all came flooding back, because I saw an image Friday that a co-worker saw. Our brains are so complex – and it is strange what triggers what.

Another short post. Don't feel like posting today.

Shocked

I was looking at other people's blogs on Friday, and I had just clicked on one and was scrolling down to read content. Then someone walked around to talk with me. And staring them in the face was a woman clad in spandex, bound. Yes, it looked like some S&M honey. I was freekin' mortified.

So I had to take her off of my "Blogs that Impress Me" list, which sucks, because I will loose touch with her. One thing that makes it easier is that she was on myspace – I really dislike myspace; that blogging universe seems so high school or pedophile. Not sure which is more prevalent. Someone said that some senator or senator candidate has a daughter that has pictures in lingerie on myspace. What a wonderful world we live in!

I was mortified – like my coworker sees me looking at some bound woman, and instantly, my reputation is shot. I wonder if the senate candidate was similarly mortified? The kicker for me is that I was not looking for images of bound women – it just appeared on my screen.

A few months ago, I was surprised by an image of breast self-examination, but that is easy to explain away. This however, was different. Embarrasing.

I think I may lay low for a while. I am still in a bit of shock.

Reeses Peanut Butter Cups and Synergy

When I was a little girl, I can remember a commercial. Okay, I can remember lots of commercials, but this commercial was for Reeses Peanut Butter Cups. Lots of different commercials, but two people bump into each other, one with a jar of peanut butter, one with a bar of candy.

"You got your peanut butter on my chocolate."

"You got your chocolate in my peanut butter."

You know, before Reeses Peanut Butter Cups (6 grams of fat, but oh, so good), I would have never thought about putting these two foods together. But somebody though about it.

Similarly, car seats with heaters in them. I would never have thought of that, but oh, what a wonderful mixture of two items.

There was a point to this, but actually, since I have been answering phones all morning, I can't remember what the point is. Son-of-a-bitch. It would have been a good post, too.

You know, there are things, in combination, that are so much better than each thing on its own. Peanut butter and chocolate, heated car seats on a cold winter's morn. Other things as well. In business, they call it synergy – when two corporations are more valuable than the sum of each corporation on its own.

You know, in a sense, that's what marriage can be. I mean, not as cold and calculated as a merger of two corporations, but in a sense, you have two individuals who, through marriage, may end up being part of something greater. I know, one may think this is some crazy Catholic woman talking about marriage and going "la la la," rose petals and walks in the park.

But this does not have to be a Christian thing. It is in my case, but it does not have to be. Have you met a couple, and thought to yourself, "What a wonderful couple; these are neat people." But would they have been as neat were they not married? I have heard several people, throughout my friendships, say things about their spouses making them better people.

That's what I want my marriage to be. Making my husband a better person – him helping me with my mess as well. Okay, you know, it does not have to be like that, but it is sure a nice thing. And I know you don't have to marry the guy to help you with this, but if you do, you get to fuck him. That' what my priest told me, the crazy Catholic girl.

Old Churches and Easter

One of the oldest churches in Europe was not always a church. It is placed alongside one of the roads leading to Rome, not as a church but as a fortress. It was turned into a church around 706 AD – note the three digits. While praying in the church, I have been told, you can't even imagine that the church had another purpose. But if you look more closely, a few of the walls are thicker, the walls that Romans built.

Now ask yourself, is this a church or an ancient fortress? It started out as a fortress, but over time, the people who used this building changed. Would you call the building a church or a fortress? Or both?

Similarly, or some may argue dissimilarly, some do not classify Easter as a Christian holiday because it was built directly on a pagan holiday.

Let's look at New Year's Day (or New Year's Eve; a great opportunity to wear that new dress!). I would group this as an American holiday – as in, list all of the American holidays, and I would place it there. But it is not only an American holiday. They put on one hell of a show in Italy, I would imagine. And other countries. How many of us would not include New Year's Day as an American holiday? But some of those people would exclude Easter as a Christian holiday.

Short post today – I have had some appointments; not a lot of time to blog today.

Pre-Halloween Thoughts

It is October 18, 2006, and as I looked down my street this morning, I would have thought it was closer to Halloween. When I was a little girl, Halloween decorations went up the week of Halloween. Period. And normally two or three houses went to town, and every body else either did nothing or decorated their door only. You know, the cardboard witch with the arms and legs you could pose. Or the skeleton. Pretty plain vanilla, but it seemed fine for me as a child.

Now I look at things, and I have two new graveyards on my own street, with a few resting in peace but more "occupants" peering out to see who is stepping on their graves. I see a number of houses with ghosts in their trees – who do you call, Ghostbusters or the local Orkin man? I am not quite sure.

It was cold (relatively speaking) last week, but a number of giant spiders seem to have moved their residence into the neighborhood. With the warmer air, I just hope to avoid their webs. Oh how I hate spiders.

I can deal with these decorations, but there is a skeleton hanging in a tree – with two people recently deceased (all hangings), and it creeps me out a bit. You see, the positions of the three bodies are eerily similar to what people depict in the Garden of Gethsemane. Creeps me out.

What is even worse is that there is a house sort of catty corner across the street – a house that looks similar to our house – and the people living there each Halloween stand on their property and tell the children trick-or-treating that these kids are celebrating "the Devil's holiday." The reason it is bad – I don't want kids egging my house after Halloween. Sorry – sort of a "it's all about me" type of comment, but that's what I think about. We do decorate a bit, mostly to point the eggers to the proper house.

You know, the Catholic Church, when trying to brainwash (convert) the Celts, they had a celebration called Samhain. The Celts, who lived a long time ago on a rock, the same rock that brought us a prince that looked like Dumbo, and a bunch of people without chins, were celebrating something like how we would celebrate New Year's Eve. Their calendar started on November 1, so their New Year's Eve was that night. Okay, not exactly the same – because they wore animal skins and danced naked. Well, maybe this still happens in New York. But on that night, instead of getting ready for Bowl Games and squeezing breasts, they believed the ghosts of the dead returned to earth – and caused trouble by damaging crops, scaring people, etc. I really think a couple of bad egg Celts drank too much and did donuts in the crops. I could be wrong on this one. My History of Western Civilization class was a blur – 9 am, Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

This turned into a Druid celebration (to commemorate the event) where they built huge bonfires (and did not roast weinies). Actually it was a sacred bonfire, where the Druids gathered to make sacrifices (burn crops/animals) to the Celtic deities.

This was a problem to the Priests trying to brainwash/convert the Druids. So the Catholic Church added a holiday, All Soul's Day and placed it on top of the other holiday. Sort of like having the BCS bowl game which makes all the other Bowl Games less important.

What was my point? I don't know. Oh, yeah, don't egg my darned house. It is the Druids fault, not mine.

National Grouch Day

Last night, I was watching the Chicago Bears lose to the St. Louis Rams. Anyway, it was 23-3 with less than 3 minutes to go in the third quarter. This lady called it a night. Glad I did not watch the forth quarter. The Bears were going to lose their first game of the year, and I did not want to stay up for that. I wonder what the final score was.

Okay, so I did not really see the game last night. I don't watch much football. But had I watched it, I would have been reminded not to count anyone out. The game, as people at work are talking about it, was bizarre. I did not get a lot of the details – when men talk football, I sort of feel like Charlie Brown in his classroom. You know, hearing, "Blah Blah Blah" out of the mouths of the teachers. I sort of want to ask how Matt Leinart's ass looked in Cardinal red, but I would not want to offend my male co-workers.

I really don't know what I would like to talk about today.

I heard someone say recently, "To me, there is nothing wrong with this at all." I see those words as a signal – a marker, so to speak – that there may be something wrong with "this," whatever this is.

Similar to the axiom (yes, I meant to use this word): "You can't judge me." Instead of "you can't judge me," I think the speaker means to say, "Don't judge me." We make judgments on a daily basis, and I have a hard time believing that people do not judge even if they try not to judge.

I took Monday off – you see, Sunday, October 15, was National Grouch Day. Now, I wonder why the day was placed on top of National Poetry Day, and it did not coincide with Oscar the Grouch's Birthday (June 1). I guess the planners of the holiday did not evaluate these factors or talk with me. Shame. So in light of the event, I took Monday off (since I could not take Sunday off; no one would know the difference).

And I grouched around all the freekin' day. I kicked the cat, kicked the dog, and I took candy from babies. I went to fast food drive throughs and said "waaw waaw waaw" and other indistinguishable language. I called the Savannah Morning News and said my paper was not delivered, even though it was (I did this twice, even though I did not intend on reading the papers).

And you know, after all of this National Grouch Day celebrations, what the kicker was? No body noticed anything different. Son of a bitch!

Choices

You know, we all make choices. And sometimes the choices we make, further limit other choices. Consider: you have $40 in your purse, and you are at a state fair. You have lots of choices you can make with the $40. You can spend $20 on rides, but after that, your choices are more limited. You can buy a lunch, another $10, and then your choices are further limited. Cotton candy, and then $3 more is gone, further limiting your options.

You know, more important choices – all of life is like this little story. When you start out your life, your options are already limited. We only have a certain IQ, certain physical attributes, a certain EQ (educational quotient). We have limits – sort of like the $40.

And throughout our lives, we make choices. Sometimes our choices enhance other choices, but the choices (that we tend to remember) further limit choices. Okay, a glass half empty kind-of-gal. I guess I could have said that at the fair, you could make money in a kissing booth, but I did not really want to go there.

I think the best reason not to ever start to cheat on a partner is that it limits your options – that is, if you want to stay with the individual. I mean, for most people, trust is an important aspect, perhaps one of the most important aspects, in determining whether a relationship will last. Think about it: you sleep right next to someone, you plan a future together, perhaps save a little money, dream about retirement, maybe even hope that they will take care of you if you get really sick. You need trust for this.

Rationally, how can you choose to limit your options for a little orgasm, perhaps some bad sex? Most sex is bad to begin with – with practice, the sex improves, but you choose to have sex from a less competent lover and betray the more competent lover. And the more competent lover, also is the one you sleep next to, save with, share lives with. I really don't know why people cheat – I did it, and it is not a rational choice.

Reality In Tact

Sometimes I wonder about reality. When I was in high school, we learned about atoms. We were told indisputably that atoms, or I should say the electrons, protons and neutrons, were the smallest building blocks of our universe. Everything was made of the electrons, protons and neutrons, my teachers and the textbooks said, and these sub-atomic particles could not be divided. Well, this was in the 1980s, and the scientific community knew better. But that was not what we were told.

We were not told what the scientific community knew because it was more convenient. I mean, leptons, quarks and whatever else. The point is not what I know about particle physics (which is not much), but that when we were learning stuff and told definitively about the world, the experts knew they were not telling us the truth.

This was more convenient – not telling high schoolers more of the truth. I am not talking about discussing quantum mechanics. I am talking about mentioning that there was more to chemistry than the Bohr model that we learned.

Truth and reality – so many people are bothered when their version of reality when it is challenged. And I am not saying that I am any different.

When you read in the newspaper that some mother smothered her two twin gifts from God and went back to sleep, sometimes your sense of reality changes. You know, what I don't want is for these stories to stop shocking me. My sense of reality is more beautiful than reality truly is, and another part of me will die when this changes.

Short post today; tears streaming down my face.

Google Error

This morning, when trying to post, I got a new error. A Google error. Truth-be-told, it is the same error, but it looks differently now. So will I really post today? Depends on this 500 error.

Update: looks like my work does not work Internet does not work. I mean, you work somewhere, expecting free Internet service so you can blog, and "the man" screws you every time. Darn the man.

Okay, white skinny-ass woman does not come across as a hard-ass, street smart woman. Outrage, manufactured, is just not the same.

This leads me to ~Deb. I know, a girl crush you think. Maybe so, but I was thinking of a recent post of hers. It involved ménage à trios. Either that, or was it duck-chicken-chicken sex. I was distracted by the picture that accompanies the blog entry she wrote.

Okay, if you look past the veiled attempt at getting me in bed, she was talking about all of the various different emotional aspects of threesomes. Okay, this is an area that I have no experience, but it occurs to me that in many threesomes, there has to be some manufactured passion. Simple group dynamics.

You have three people, generally two of them married, and one single one (man or woman). Clearly all usually don't have similar feelings towards each of the other participants. One probably does not have the same amount of passion for each of the two participants, and if one wants a "good threesome experience," one would want about equal passion between all.

I have faked orgasm, but it is much harder to fake passion. Of course, on occasion, I have faked passion as well. My mind, as times, wanted to be more passionate than my heart was – whether I was tired or somewhere else.

Moving outside of the bedroom, though I can see my passion in other areas. I don't necessarily like to cook, but I do so, most often willingly, because of my passion for my husband. Actually, I do all sorts of "stuff" because of a passionate love for that guy. Sometimes it defies pure logic, but love sometimes does defy logic.

Let me get this posted before tomorrow. Crap, how I hate relying on my employer for my Internet connection.

Pills, Safety and ~Deb

As I was looking at a medicine bottle this morning, something occurred to me: you know, medicine bottles are easier to open now then when I was a child. I can remember the "child proof" jokes about how only a child could open a bottle of pills.

I don't have many pills – I don't like them. But I was finishing up a bottle of Marinol I got off the street. Actually, I was finishing an antibiotic, and it was so easy to open. Did not break a nail on the bottle. Did not throw it on the counter in disgust. Did not ask someone else, say a child, to open the bottle.

I am not sure if children were getting smarter so the pharmaceutical companies gave up. Or senior citizens were suing the drug companies because they could not get their arthritis medicine. Personally I think the US Government did a bunch of studies to show that it made little difference in terms of patient safety. You either harm children or harm senior citizens, and let's face it, kids don't vote!

When I was a little girl, like most kids, I ran around during the evening, thinking nothing of my safety. We never worried about child predators, about booster seats, about riding in the back of a neighbor's old pick-em-up truck, wind in my hair. We seemed safe; we were safe. Personally, I think we were no safer back then; perhaps we were even less-safe. But because of the news (hundreds of outlets verses four when I was a child), other media, etc., we know about the sexual predators. We know about children dying after falling out of pick-em-up trucks. We know of people dying of exotic diseases one gets from, well, you get the idea.

Personally, I think those who will make things of themselves, may find a niche in separating the crap information from useful information. Were I able to do it, perhaps I would not be blogging at work right now.

Oh, and the ~Deb reference is just to draw more readers in. Yeah, a bit gimmicky. Sort of like when the news shows the weather at the end of the newscast every single day. Darn those news guys!

Opinions at No Cost

I saw an article recently that stated: Eighty percent of respondents did not believe that bloggers should be allowed to publish home addresses and other personal information about private citizens.

A further 72 percent favored censorship of personal information about celebrities, and 68 percent, information about elected or appointed government officials such as judges or mayors.

However, more than one-third of respondents had never heard of blogs before participating in the survey, and only around 30 percent of participants had actually visited a blog themselves.

I think Kaavya Viswanathan published this. Actually it was TechRepublic. I little joke.

Here is what I find fascinating. Even though more than one third had never heard of blogs before (and more than two-thirds had never visited one), most could offer an opinion on the subject. Now I know that some would say that "just because I don't know what something is, I can still have my opinion on it." As Garth [Wayne's World] said, "We fear change." Now I am not suggesting that all people polled have electronic hands that they are smashing with rubber mallets. What I am saying is that Americans seem to have an opinion (and don't mind sharing it) even if they have limited real information.

Take politics – most people vote for candidates that they don't know anything about. I am not talking about voting for president. But when you have people in the booths, wanting to vote for president, they treat the ballot like a test, not leaving many blanks. If I had a really cool last name, I would want to be on the ballot. Leesa Carter the Agricultural Commissioner of Georgia – because my last name was cool.

What is a shame, I suppose, is that most of these positions that get elected probably matter in one way or another. Or if they don't really matter, there is still money being spent on the office, the office probably can dictate spending of additional funds, etc. So we are electing people who are tall (I have been told). But that is only for positions where we know what the candidate looks like. I fear that a large number of elected officials are being elected by people with a "testing complex" that happen to want to vote for president or against school bonds.

I would want to be married to Charlie Eppes, the brainiac guy on the series Numb3rs. Yummy. I saw that show when I was traveling a few months ago, and he was taste. Brilliant. Sexy. A completely fictional man, and this has little to do with the post today.

What is funny is that I offer my opinion on this blog 5 days per week. And some even listen. Most I think are looking for naked pics of ~Deb. That's why I am here.

How to Drive Blogging Traffic

I got a comment from Quasar9 on Friday. Here is the gist of the comment (I don't read other people's comments either):

Hi Leesa, interesting what people like to talk about, what people put out there.
There are general interest blogs: sitcoms, tv, stat trekkies, film buffs, mtv, latest music vids, ...
There are personal interest blogs: cats, dogs, horses, boats, cars, women, men, women, more women, ...
There are personal blogs: me and my baby, me and my pussy, me and my friend, boyfriend, you know ...
There are more educational and information exchange blogs: climate sciences, biology, astronomy, art, cosmology, physics, history, literature, national geographic,...
There are self-help and healing blogs: how I beat cancer, how I was abused, how I discovered anal interests, how I found myself, how I dealt with mother's passing, how I survived break up and divorce...
There are bloggers who wonder why no one visits them, uhh really? and there are bloggers in their own little niche wonder how people find them, hello! you are in the blogosphere, click next blog
But most of all there are blogs for all sorts of interests, like cliques in the street or pub, but with anonymity which allows you a candidness and/or falseness until some bloggers themselves forget where the line between what is true or false is, and some who will rant about whatever attracts an audience. Like experimental stand up comics.
Then there are other blogs which I find personally interesting either because the blogger is interesting or the posts are ...
So, you say Debs skinny dipping in moonlight can have an effect on peple maybe even 'raise' tides. lol!

Okay, when I read that, the first thing I thought was "this guy takes no breathes when he talks." Then I thought, I will include this comment in today's blog entry because it is easier than writing stuff myself. Just kidding.

I have wanted to do "How to Improve your Blogging" for some time. In the past, I have introduced some blogging rules. More accurately, I wrote a couple of Blogger Etiquette Posts (1) (2), and I occasionally write about rules in other posts. I am not saying that these were good rules or accurate rules, but after I wrote them down, I had people spouting these as actual rules. Sort of funny.

I actually don't know how to improve blogging; but I do like writing stuff and have people disagree with me. It is sort of fun.

I have said before that sometimes key phrases drive traffic, mostly because there are so many people surfing for porn. And some bloggers have gotten wind of this. When you hear someone relying a story of how her kitty cat is such a photogenic animal, you sort of wonder if she is wanting to draw traffic. She says things like, "I have the prettiest pussy. I love playing with my pussy. I would never do anything to harm my cat; I would never shave my pussy." If you run into a blog that does this, they are looking for traffic.

If you really want to drive traffic, don't have my sort of blog. I am not very focused. At all. I looked at Quasar9's blog on Friday, and his blog is very focused. He writes intellectually, and he writes about the same subject. He sort of makes me feel dumb, but he has some sort of elite following. Smart guys and girls who want to score with smart guys. Me, I like my hubbie dumb and at work. He makes money for us, and he is easy to train.

Focus. Focus. See, off the mark again. Where was I? Blogging and driving traffic.

If you want a cheap way to drive traffic, I have some suggestions:

1. Focus on writing about and evaluating strippers. Nothing attracts eyeballs like strippers.

2. Don't let your audience guess when you will blog. Blog on a schedule. I blog each day, and when I was really popular, I would have my blog available by 7:30 am. You don't have to blog every day, but if you are on a schedule, announce it somewhere prominent on your blog. Can you imagine a department store that had varying hours? It would frustrate you, right? Same thing with blogging.

3. Answer comments individually. When I get a comment, I answer it. Once I did not answer each comment, and Grant busted me. Don't misunderstand me. I am not saying that Grant is right about anything; I am saying that people who make comments like to be acknowledged. And they come back to make sure of this.

4. Visit other blogs. Not to steal their ideas, but to enjoy their work and leave comments. If you want others to view your tripe, you should view theirs. Personally, I don't look at people who I find boring – but just because I find something boring, does not make it so. And my tastes change, just like anyones. Hardly anyone wears mood rings and tank tops anymore, and there is a reason for it. Or are tanks popular again?

5. Be brief. Most people can't read more than one page on a computer – so don't write more than one page. Besides, the commenting folks are just looking for one thing to disagree with, and simes most of us are ignorant anyway, that is pretty easy to do. I am usually brief, aside from this post. And I am not brief with erotic posts. A shame this is not an erotic post, huh?

6. Post naked pictures of ~Deb. Self explanatory.

7. I can't believe I am up to #7. I need to come back and write something down here. Note to self: say something profound and quote Ghandi.

8. Have a plan and stick to it. Don't follow my example. I am completely off-base, wondering how I will wind this up and compare something to random cum stains, but I am not sure how I will do this.

9. Be professional. Again, don't look to me for this. Don't call your readers "dicks and whores". I don't have a problem with the name-calling, but I do have a problem with being professional. Misquote famous dead Greeks. They aren't alive to defend themselves.

10. Don't talk about trading links in the comments. If you are good enough to link to, people will link to you without asking. Or if they do link to you, and, well, how to delicately put this, your content sucks, then they will unlink from you the next time they update their templates. Just don't look lame that way.

11. Post naked pictures of ~Deb. Did I mention this already?

12. Link to some really cool bloggers. I do, and sometimes they even stop by to ask me to unlink from them. Damn them, the cool kids.

I could go on forever, but how many readers made it this far. Darned few. Most have already started writing their comments or have figured out that there are no pictures of my privates. Or ~Deb's privates.

Public verses Private

Several things have occurred to me recently, and many of them are about our public verses our private lives. Let me explain some of the reasons for pondering this.

Ian said this on my comments yesterday: "And, even though Rob and Laura slept on twin beds, Rob once asked Laura, mid-afternoon, if she'd like to go and "rest." Subtle, but to the point. So, we know Rob and Laura had sex."

Okay, people, I was not thinking of having sex with Dick Van Dyke. I find it interesting that his name is not fodder for jokes, but as I just typed it, well, lets move on. I was thinking that even on sit-coms, there were "private moments." Not everything was out-in-the-public. Sure, for media outlets, it makes financial sense for there to be avenues that are no-holds-bar. Is that the phrase?

At work yesterday, a co-worker announced to the group (men and woman, different ages, backgrounds, etc.) that "I had the best sex last night." Er, we really did not want to know about it. And I am not just talking about sex.

I really don't care to hear about medical operations or unusual discharges. And I don't know what the big deal about the color of a baby's poop really is. Such a lovely shade of green, I was told once. Now, I will admit, without the personal knowledge of having children, perhaps something goes off in your brain, and when an infant "performs" in the pooping sense, perhaps that is a victory of sorts. I can understand pooping in the potty, or peeing in the potty, especially for the spraying little male cherubs, but for the color of an infant's poop. It is not like the infant thought, "I have an idea. I think I will poop green today."

Four, maybe five people I keep up with blogging have changed the URLs to their sites recently. Some of it is them wanting to do something different, but part of it is that "someone has found my site." That also reminded me of privacy.

If anyone ever found out who I am, I think I would disappear. So I use an older photo and blur it. Luckily most people who know me either can't read or don't read blogs.

There are some positives about having things more public. I think things like abuse are now more in the light; people can find each other and heal. And I have, on occasions, shared deeply personal things with friends because I thought that offering would help them heal from something they were going through at the time.

Past generations were a bit more discrete. I can remember finding out really BIG things when I was in college – Great Granny So-and-So killed herself? Why did someone not tell me about this before? Aunt So-and-So had breast cancer? Hey, I am family too! Why did you not tell me earlier? I am not really saying putting things out in the public are good or bad – guess part of it is a matter of taste. Just don't tell me about your gall bladder operation or that discharge that is puzzling you. Because not only is it not really my business, but I don't want to know.

PS: If you have slept with anyone famous, I will say I don't want to know, but I want the blow-by-blow (so to speak) details. Honest!

Life as a Sit-Com Character

I have been reading one of my favorite bloggers – sorry guys, no URL on this one. Anyway, between her veiled attempts at seducing me, she is writing about her life. She is a bright woman, an attractive woman, and her marriage is crumbling. Not her fault, but it is crumbling still-the-same.

I am not going to dwell on marriage or fidelity or "working things out." What I wondered when reading her last post was what a wonderful world it would be if life were like a 30-minute situation comedy.

Now I don't watch a lot of television, so I apologize if my examples are outdated. But I sort of think it would be easier if my life were a TV show. I mean, my hair would be perfect, my house spotless, my hubbie strong and handsome (without any maladies), and my children a hoot. The oldest would be the smartest in school, the middle a bit of a tramp, and the little one, precocious.

That being said, I wonder about what sit com I would like to live in/on. My first thought was Gilligan's Island. I mean, always warm temperatures, tropical island, lots of food (fish and fruit, how wonderful for a diet), nice accommodations (surprising, considering they are on an island), and no one gets sick, despite a lack of medical or dental care. The only thing they are lacking seems to be any real sex. For me, I would hook up with the professor, if I could bend his neck. There is going to be a problem with books, though it seems that they had one heck of a lot of books (the professor, the Howells) for a three-hour tour.

That would be my first choice, I think, although because I am less familiar with television than many, I probably have missed some really good situations. Part of me wants to be Mary Tyler Moore in the Dick Van Dyke show. She was who I wanted to be – though I like being in color better than being in black-and-white. That would be sort of a drag. But to have a funny, handsome, famous husband – that would be nice. I just would not want to move next to Rhoda after that part of my life was over. And I would probably move the furniture so hubbie would not trip over it every stinkin' day.

More on this later. I think I will try to fold a piece of paper ten times. Impossible, you say? Not according to Britney Gallivan.

Apples, Temporary License Plates and Books

On my way to work today, I got behind a car with a "temporary license plate." New car, going a bit slower than the rest of the traffic for a while. From looking at the driving, I would guess that the new driver was getting used to the car. In short order, the car was behaving like the other cars. One thing stuck in my mind, though. There was a small "Apple Computer" logo already affixed to the back window of the car.

Now, I did not think, "Stupid SOB, spent way too much for a computer." Or, "Darned you, not getting random errors or paying Microsoft to beta test their software." This was not about Apple Computer. It was about passion.

To think, on a new car, the owner chose to place a sticker professing their allegiance to a computer company – and an assumption I am making is that the driver is passionate about the computer. To get a new car straight from the showroom and place the sticker on the window – that indicates some type of passion.

I grinned a little when I thought about it. Grinned because I thought it was so fitting, to have the symbol of an apple being the object of passion. Adam and Eve – the fruit in the Garden of Eden and all. It just gave me time to grin. I know that the fruit of the Garden of Eden was not named, and it almost was not certainly an apple. I think it is probably a pomegranate. I mean, if you are going to damn the world to hell, might as well do it for a really great piece of fruit. That's what my grandmother always used to say.

Passion is so important, yet we don't really talk about passion all that often. I like the idea about different religions because what drives me, doesn't necessarily drive you. One thing that we assume that is not true is that different local churches from the same religious denomination have a similar look and feel, a similar view of the religious tenants. But this is not always the case. And what I find most important for me is my passion for my religion. I did not find passion with other churches – not that I agree with every tenant of my church, but it is where I am most passionate.

I know someone who is passionate about lawn care. For me, er, I am not sure why, but he loves lawn care. He has enough money to pay someone to mow his lawn, but he chooses to do it because it gives him some sort of satisfaction. He spends time fertilizing it, watering it, poisoning the weeds, whatever. And when he cuts the grass, he gets some type of satisfaction. He is absolutely passionate about his lawn. For me, walking barefoot in his lawn would be where my passion would lie. Nothing but a lawn that looks more like a deep green carpet or a professional putting green.

Passion. That's what we need more of! And, boys and girls, I would find more passion in a book than between the sheets. The joy of finding an obscure text or forgotten story. I am absolutely passionate about books!

SCAD, Yankees and Snakes

The other day, I was talking to a non-Savannah friend, and I mentioned SCAD. My friend said, "Excuse me." She had no idea what I was talking about. SCAD – Savannah College of Art and Design. I thought it was famous, and apparently it is not. Either that, or my friend is an idiot. Actually, you know both can be true as well; these may not be mutually exclusive facts. My friend can be an idiot and SCAD may be fairly obscure as well.

Some things are extremely local, and many of us are unaware of our local biases. Some things are less subtle. When I was growing up, I did not know until middle school that "Damn Yankees" were two words. I had always heard damn associated with Yankees. I grew up in Georgia, what I consider the heart of the south. And there were overt biases that we all recognized, and some, like the relative obscurity/importance of SCAD, that we did not recognize.

I have read some comments/blogs recently that show intolerance of different points of view, and on the surface, I give their viewpoint credit. But after my SCAD conversation that reminded me of my biases, I tend to be more tolerant of even extreme views. Not sure if this makes sense – and I am not trying to be wishy-washy. I also value spirituality, and I know that being labeled "Baptists", "Catholics" and "Buddhists" do not say anything about their level of spirituality (even if some believe that their religious label indicate some level of spirituality).

You know the typical comments, "I don't think that group is right with God because they cut the head's off chickens and wear high heels." Well, some have an aversion with comfortable shoes, actually, but you get the idea.

We all have baggage, biases that affect the way we see things. When I was in elementary school, I can remember having a bias against male teachers. Was there a rational reason for that? Pedophiles, perhaps? I took one statistical anomaly and damned all teachers subconsciously in my mind. Not fair.

I suppose making that logical error pays off when we were dangling from trees, being scared of all snakes when only a fraction of them are indeed dangerous. Recoiling from a grass snake is okay, if we similarly recoil from a rattlesnake. This, partially, I think explains why we recoil from that which is different, be it the Yankees from the north, or those who don't practice religion without a meat cleaver and four inch heels.

Anchor chains, plane motors, and train whistles

There is a scene in Frank Capra's "It's A Wonderful Life" that I enjoy. Okay, there are a bunch of scenes I enjoy, but this scene supports my blog this morning.

George: You know what the three most exciting sounds in the world are?
Billy: Uh-huh. Breakfast is served; lunch is served, dinner...
George: No, no, no, no! Anchor chains, plane motors, and train whistles.

I picked up my hubbie from the airport Friday, and I love airports. I don't actually go on planes that often, but occasionally, when hubbie has a conference, I will pick him up from the airport.

It is just that the parking fees are so high that I don't like him leaving his car for a week. Anyway, I tell him that, but I also enjoy just watching people at the airport.

I arrive a full 20 minutes before his flight arrives, mainly to people-watch.

Savannah has a smallish airport, though by its name, Savannah International Airport, you would think it was some huge airport. I have been told by unreliable sources that this is due to its amenities and that we have a few flights coming from outside the US. I personally think it has more to do with drug traffickers, but I also wonder how many people were in the grassy knoll.

Anyway, back to my love of airports, when I am not actually using them myself. When I have all the time in the word and do not have to go through "airport security", I love airports. Okay, before 9-11, I was able to go all the way to the gate. Now, not so much.

But to see people embrace after a week, two weeks, a semester. Who knows? It is the most wonderful scene. I remember, not this time, but one time, watching a young married couple – him in an Army uniform, her in t-shirt and shorts – say "goodbye." She seemed to devour the young soldier. Not that I would want to be married to a soldier, but in that moment, if I could have, I know I wanted to trade places with that young bride.

I see mothers, fathers embrace their young ones after a trip – so sweet. And sometimes, little two- and three-year-olds, completely exhausted and asleep when greeting "Daddy" or "Mommy." Poor little ones. Sweet little ones.

I love airports, and as George Bailey reminds us, airplanes, trains and ships are exciting because of possibilities. They can take you anywhere. But you know, for me, I love seeing these modes of transportation bringing loved ones home. And it reminds me to pray for those solders, sailors and airmen in harms way: wishing all of them safe passage home.