I can dream

My birthday is soon. These are the things I hope to purchase on that day.
But if not, I'm content with sharing it with other people who happen to have the same birthday.

SUCH AS:
Henry Wager Halleck, Charles Henry Davis, and General Sir Ian Standish Monteith Hamilton, respectively. I think.

We're going to go grow our mustaches and fight fights.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME

Things I don't miss/I want to miss

I don't miss my car.

I don't miss being shellacked by a layer of humidity everywhere I go.

I don't miss driving.

I want to miss having an irrational fear that I am about to be vomited on by a fellow train rider.

I want to miss socks.

I want to miss worrying that bed bugs are absolutely everywhere. EVERYWHERE.

Since this was my first Thanksgiving away from blood relatives, I made this vidya. Enjoy.

Fresh Baked from Priscilla on Vimeo.

O HAI

Party People,

I don't even know where to begin.

I made a movie with some friends in rural Maryland. Weird.

I live in New York now. That's weird.

I'm living in an apartment by myself for the first time. (Roman Polanski's apartment trilogy runs through my mind a lot. Still weird. ANYWAY.)

For those who missed the social networking thunderstorm that was happening during production, we still have the Facebook page up, the production blog's still up, and we have a YouTube channel page thing. So eat it all up, as much as you can fit down your gullet.

Afterward, I drove up to New York from South Florida with one of my very bestest friends, Jess. She's wonderful. We lived in the dorms freshman year and we've been having sporadic adventures ever since. I'm hoping all the footage I got from the trip comes in handy soon. Unfortunately, the camera got a huge crack in it, so it's only for experimentals now. Shame.

Now, I'm in a kind of free-fall. I'm still waiting for freelance work to pick up, I'm applying to jobs left and right for copy editing or proofreading to pass the time. I've started reviewing music and media for Ink 19 again, and also signed up to be a volunteer for The Moth and for a documentary film festival, both happening in November. And next weekend I'll be heading to D.C. for the what-have-you. For ~$86, how could I say no?

What's next? Holidays with friends and other people's families! Bromance! More movies to be made! A wedding! Me turning a quarter-of-a-century old! Making my apartment a home! Crocheted beanies! Reading! Hugs!

I've missed you. I miss you all the time.

You'll need to know these guys

It has come to my attention that you may not be privy to the great becoming.

Here are three dudes you need to know about, 'cause they about to BLOW UP.

1. Andrew W. Jones
Yes, it's true. He's on fire. Frank DanCoolo: Paranormal Drug Dealer is chugging along on the festival circuit and is now available for purchase on IndieFlix. Now, Mista Jones is raising the bar with a musical called Doctor Glamour. I'm super excited and you should be, too.

2. Brett Ryan Bonowicz
Have you even SEEN the trailer for Comedian at the Friday? Come on. Get with the fuckin' program, ya big dummy. You're makin' us all look like fools out there. Get your copy like yesterday-ish, even though I don't think it's even done yet. WHATEVER. And Brett's got something new comin' up, you'll not want to miss it.

3. Chase Connor
This UCF graduate student is about to melt faces with his thesis film Less Lost. He's still on the look-out for donations, tax-deductible, 'cause that's how he roll. I've made my donation and plan to make another one. Have you?

Why am I telling you about these people? Because they're personal friends of mine, and if you're a personal friend of mine, you're pretty much made of angel wings and the laughter of children. You're golden. I also believe in the talent of these fine bitches and plan to invest in their futures, whether it be through my time and effort or through that shit I usually buy food with. And so should you.

Personally, I would much rather wear jeans that don't fit perfectly and eat Ramen with ketchup for a couple of days, if that means I can help my friends' creativity come to fruition. We're in this shit together, my friends. Suck it. Let's hug it out.

I'm movin' to New York. Big whoop, wanna fight about it?

August 27 -- the last day at my job.

August 28-31 -- looking at apartments in New York.

September 2-25 -- working on my first feature film in which I am not an extra, but actually the lead. Weird.

September 27-October 1 -- one-way road trip to New York with Grose, hopefully stopping in and visiting some other fabulous and beautiful people on the way.

I have my monologue about how I came to this decision, but I won't bore you with it.

Oral surgery -- pretty much

Goo. I had some minor oral surgery last week and I've been whining about it ever since. Basically that tissue that connects my bottom lip to my gums was too short, so they fixed it. However, I hadn't anticipated that I wouldn't be able to eat anything but soups and oatmeal, and swishing with the same prescription-strength mouthwash that people with gingivitis use. Awesome.

I've also been unable to smile correctly, therefore rendering me equally as helpless when laughing. I just hold my chin and lips, hoping I don't pop the stitches.

Those feet disgust me

I will say this once and I will never say it again: When I see feet in the dashboard of a car, I feel nauseated. I don't have an anti-foot fetish, but the way the toes poke out from the windshield of a car makes me want to throw up in my own hand and then throw it at strangers.

I hate melon/summer.

I don't like melons. Watermelons, cantaloupes, honeydew -- no, thanks. I always associate melons with summer, something I also detest. So when I'm forced to eat the pulpy, syrupy bullshit imprisoned in its deceptive rind, I can't help but imagine I'm eating fruit pulp infused with sweat. Melons are sweat fruit to me.

I hope this won't affect our relationship, because I treasure our friendship.

Enjoy your summer. I'll be crawling further into my fair-skinned-people cave. See you in the fall or the nearest patch of shade.

Flash mobs are my favorite

As much as I hate/despise/draw blood at the sight of "invisible theatre" or whatever you want to call it, I still love a flash mob. A flash mob is contained, brief, and doesn't really subject an innocent bystander to potential trauma; they just have to watch it or walk away. I mean, unless you call a group of people suddenly dancing to "Do Re Mi" in the Central Station of Antwerp traumatic. Then there's my all-time favorite. The Hammer Time Mob Dance:



For more of that related bullshit, check out Improv Everywhere's YouTube channel where they literally just fuck with people's days. Like "Best Gig Ever." They found a random band from out of town, grouped 30 to 40 members of Improv Everywhere, memorized the band's music, made homemade T-shirts with the band's name on it, conjured too much enthusiasm and tricked the band into thinking they actually knew who they were and gave a shit. After a year or two, the band got over it, but it kinda crushed their souls for quite a while.

-------------------------------

So, Friday begins the marathon traveling. This weekend I'll be bumming around Manhattan. That following Wednesday, it's off to London, to hopefully see The Black Atlantic, Keb Darge, and ride around in a paddle boat with Janine. I'm not going just for that, I'm just hittin' that G-spot of awesome coincidences, I guess. If you happen to be in either of these areas and would like a hug, a high-five, a beverage, or a culinary adventure, you know what's to doin'. Don't be shy. You guys are so shy.

Begin ignoring my texts, phone calls, and Facebook messages in 3 ... 2 ...

Adventures abound, betch

I've procured my ticket to New York in June for the World Science Festival and catching up with friends that can bear my presence for small periods of time. If you're in the area June 4th-6th and you've got some extra cash-cash, let me know. Here's a short list of the things happening at the Fest that weekend that I would love to attend:

Saturday
LIGO on View (Laser Interferometer Gravitational-wave Observatory) Interactive
Free all day

Mathemagician and the Mathemagician's Apprentice
No, fuck this, I hate magic of any kind.

Einstein, Time and the Explorer's Clock
(delicious time)
12:00-2:00

Illuminating the Abyss: The Unknown Ocean
(I'll use my running shoes to make this one)
4:30-6:00

Hidden Dimensions Exploring Hyperspace
8:00-9:30

Sunday
Street Fair!
Free all day

LIGO on View (Laser Interferometer Gravitational-wave Observatory) Interactive
Free all day

Astronaut Diary: Life in Space
11:30-1:00 for free

When I get back to Florida, on Wednesday I'll be heading out to London to watch the World Cup on the TV in a pub somewhere. We also hope to visit the Horniman, take a Duck Tour, the Hunterian, Crystal Palace Park, Hyde Park, Parliament Hill, The Wolseley, and/or the Old Operating Theatre Museum & Herb Garret.

Or I may just eat too much Indian food, drink too much, pass out while somehow still sitting on a stool, and then throw up in the water closet where we're staying. Over and over again.

I can't wait.

Oh, I've also been called for jury duty the week after I get back from London.

Powerless to stop the inevitable

They will be mine. Oh, yes. They will be mine.

When I'm sick ...

1. I sleep almost completely upright. Like the Elephant Man.

2. I take Mucinex for about three days in a row. You're not supposed to exceed 2 doses in a 24-hour period. I say, only quitters don't exceed the 24-hour dose period.
(Side effects include insomnia, dizziness and hyperactivity. Check it.)

3. I turn into Mr. Hyde.

4. I don't sleep.

I've been getting sick 3-5 times a year since I was in elementary school. I've always grown immune to whatever wussy allergy meds I've been prescribed, so I've just gone rogue and miserable. So these days it's just whining, tissues, Emergen-C, and Mucinex MAX. STRENGTH.

Have you guys tried these new pretzel M&Ms? Seriously, pretzels INSIDE of M&Ms?

Also, if you could handle "Anti-Christ," you enjoyed "Delicatessen," and appreciated "You, the Living," you may be equally appalled/enthralled with Hungary's "Taxadermia." A true union of the grotesque and the divine.

I still can't stop watching this one. Is it weird that I wish I could be Julian Casablancas, minus the feathers-in-the-hair thing? Enjoy the "pixel-count-is-too-big-so-the-video's-all-cut-off" situation.

VAGINAS ARE VOLATILE

Yesterday, the U.S. Navy said women will now be allowed to work/serve on submarines.

We've had women in space since 1963.

Sigh.

I get it, nuclear reactors, vaginas can sense fear, women are made of radioactive metal, but seriously.

Snuggle bunny

I like to dance the way I like to sleep -- alone.

I like snuggle time. I do. I always have. But only when it's in moderation.

But a lot of people are anti-cuddling these days. "Whoa, you want to snuggle? I think that's moving too fast." Well, to return your "whoa," "Whoa, you're reading too much into it."

It's like one of my favorite quotes: "It's only awkward if you make it awkward."

But whether we admit it or not, some people consider the close proximity touching to be showing a vulnerability. And I don't know if you've noticed, but if there's one thing we don't want is to be seen as HUMAN. VULNERABLE. PENETRABLE.

God forbid we make our personal space bubble smaller.

And using my favorite form of "emphasis" -- enjoy the following.





OK, "Telephone" was just self-serving. I CAN'T STOP WATCHING IT! YOU WILL SUFFER WITH ME!

P.S. In other news, "Frank DanCoolo: Paranormal Drug Dealer" has been accepted into nine film festivals worldwide, winning "Best Short" at the 35th Annual Boston Sci-Fi Film Festival. Cool. I've also been approved to have my own blog in addition to my copy editing/taxonomy/whatever duties. Stay tuned May or June. Suck it. Lastly, after having begun weekly classical French fencing lessons a month ago, I have earned my own foil and glove. I'll be unstoppable. And making swish noises with my sword.

--P.

Never date an actress

I think that goes without further explanation, but here's some reading material in case you need hyperbolic assertions and bitter insinuations.

There's a Facebook group dedicated to that statement. The description is lengthy and systematic, yet still eye-rollingly dramatic. Something only another actor could have written.

And plenty of this and that.

So you've been warned, the lot of you.

I guess when I was dubbed "Most Likely To Be A Cat Lady," my friends weren't far off. Yay!!

Why I can't trust you with anything important

or let's just say anything at all, regardless of importance, relevance, or weight.

1. Because we'll plan something and then somehow you've overbooked yourself or forgotten about me completely, so I'm stuck standing around with my thumb up my butt in a Target. Which, don't get me wrong, is fun in itself, but Target is like happiness -- it's best when shared. And then I start overbooking myself and flaking out on you. A great man once said "I eat because I'm happy, and I'm happy because I eat. It's a vicious cycle."

2. Because you take the weirdest off-the-cuff shit I say out of context and then use it as ammunition when I'm not there to defend myself. Just because I once remarked that I "would punch a baby in the face if it meant I could have telekinetic powers" doesn't mean that ... no, actually, depending on the age of the baby and the velocity of the punch, I would do that. In that instance, you would be correct.

3. Because you know how easy it is to embarrass me. Seriously, mention how much I like that scene in "The Two Towers" where King Theoden says "Dark have been my dreams of late" around a sizable group of people, and I turn the color of an eggplant. (No, I'm not a "Lord of the Rings" girl, but g.d. it if I don't love that subplot. "I know your face." Aaahhhh, come on!) Since the dawn of time, I've always been easy to embarrass and you've always abused that power and it makes me feel like the Pillsbury doughboy. I'm sure his tum-tum gets sore from all the poking eventually.

I'm the Robin to your Batman

Everybody needs a cheerleader, even if that means you are your own personal cheerleader. Someone to say "You're the tits! You can do it!"

I make a really solid sidekick. I've got your back, if I think I can scrap. Otherwise, I'll run and go get Mom.

I may not be very athletic, but I sure am an athletic supporter. In high school, I was the timer at our swim meets. I'd be screaming even though I knew they couldn't hear me. You know, under water and all.

A hug and a "Hey, I like you" can go a long way with even family and old friends. Unless they're assholes. I don't hug assholes. If you don't deserve one, you don't deserve one. END OF STORY.

I don't know, I don't think it's about me. I don't think it's about me, being the main character in my own movie and things are happening just to me.

Making your day better makes my day better. Does that make sense?

Are you learning?/$86,400

The movies you're watching. The books you're reading. The blogs/articles/stories you're writing. Are you learning something new? Are you embarking into new territory, new ideas and opinions that differ from your own?

Or are you reading about the same things over and over, so you can "strengthen" your current arguments and look smarter to your adversaries? It's comforting, reading about people that agree with you and your point of view, isn't it? Makes you feel justified, doesn't it?

Well.

Keep on keepin' on.

In observance of Passover, the Fax of Life talked about Pesach and how it is the "time of spiritual freedom." As with most of the Fax(es) we receive, Rabbi Kalman Packouz talks about living in the moment, living in the present. Make changes now instead of waiting for your life to start. Be kind to your neighbors now, not tomorrow. Be active in your life, because you don't have much time on this earth (unless you believe in reincarnation, but even then, come on, Shelly).

From the Aish HaTorah's Fax of Life's Rabbi Kalman Packouz:
"What if you had a special clock on top of your television that was down the hours and minutes until you were to die? When would you get up, turn off the TV and do all the things that you planned to do, hoped to do or in passing thought about doing?

And what if in addition to your special clock, you had a special bank account where every morning you were credited in your bank account with $86,400 dollars on the condition that you had to spend it all or lose i? What would you do? Spend it! Well, you do have a special bank account called the Bank of Time! Each day you have exactly 86,400 seconds. What you don't invest wisely is written off each night. You can reap dividends, but you can't go into overdraft!

One has to value his/her time and know it is limited in order to change.

... It starts with a decision to change."

EDIT: Whoa, Packouz wrote this book. I feel so uncomfortable now. Ugh. Talk about learning every day. Yikes.

"Quit Playin' Games With My Heart"

A friend of friend of mine named Adam Smith is an incredible writer and thinker and person. An article he wrote for Relevant Magazine was particularly interesting and truthful across social circles, transcending (is that the right word?) the Christian community. It's called "Quit Playing Games with My Heart." I suggest you read it at your leisure and filter out what you don't feel applies to you, since it is a bit Christian-specific. I know there's going to be some bitchers in the audience. The reader's comments are worth the read for the anthropological research alone.

No, I'm not religious whatsoever, but I like to observe how other people choose to live and experience a different social circle, etc. That's why this article hit home for so many of us, religious or not.

Every tight-knit circle commits what I like to call "social incest." Everybody dates everybody. Sloppy seconds, thirds. There's that one girl who's dated every guy in your circle and vice versa. You know who she is. You know her by name and your eyes compulsively roll when you hear about her newest "beau." We have one or a bunch in every group.

In the community that Adam spoke of, there was a lot of black-and-white standards being held. You couldn't be talking to anyone of the opposite sex, lest you be marked as "dating," "engaged" or worse. And some of the members would blow through the dating pool like a Midwest tornado, leaving heartbreak and pain in his/her wake. I'm sure this doesn't just apply to only this community.

One point he made that was really cool for me: We need to engage in better platonic relationships. We need to be content being single before we embark on a "search"to find the perfect person for us. We need to treat each other better. Again, I don't think that's just applicable to any single community.

Bitches.

The end of that conversation

My lady co-workers are wonderful. I'm lucky to have these ladies in my life. They're hilarious, quick-witted, beautiful, and all the things a working professional lady should be. Oh, and with the mouths and minds of sailors. Mmmyes.

But the three of them are married/engaged. And they would really like it if I started dating dudes at work. They would really like it if I started dating at all, but preferably someone chosen and approved by them.

No.

No, I will not.

I will not do this thing that will fill you with such excruciating joy.

Yes, people date. Sometimes they go on blind dates set up by friends, they go on the Internet and use Web sites that evaluate their personalities via mathematical algorithms and match them with compatible people. A couple of my friends have done this and have met people the old-fashioned way -- frat parties. Half the time it works and lasts, the other half of the time, they're getting drunk texts that result in "UR LOSS, ASHOLE/BICH!!11!!!"

Do I have an interest in doing any of these things?

Nope. Sir, I do not. And, yeah, I know that's not an acceptable answer. But I'm at a point in my life in which I do not desire to "put myself out there," to get out there and "meet people," people meaning dudes. Don't want.

The lady co-workers tease me when I blush, which is literally on the hour. Especially when it's induced by a nice-looking fellow that happens to be walking to the bathroom.

They wanted to know what guys I found attractive and anyone that knows me can attest that that would take DAAAAYS. DAAAAAAYS... I find lots of different, arguably weird, things attractive.

But here goes.

And that's just the most rigid I can get with outsides. But I've always been pretty flexible. Don't even get me started about the insides of people that I find attractive, though. So, there, THERE IT IS. If you happen to find this kind of person, keep him away from me. I want nothing to do with him right now.

I don't hate you, I just hate the phone

I really hate using the phone. Whether it be the landline at work (from which I get random calls from people on a conference call looking for customer service, whoa, what's up), to the landline at my place of residence, to my cell phone. I hate using the phone.

If you've been on the phone with me for longer than 10 minutes, you get the special prize, you're special, and you're great. Thank you. It's just that fucking phone.

The primary reason I hate the phone is because my phone gets the most piss-poor reception in the house. I have to be completely outside the house, in my car, or on the porch, or on the sidewalk to conduct muh bidness. If I'm visiting family in High Springs, I don't count on getting signal whatsoever for the duration of the visit. I've noticed that my phone works SO HARD to find a signal either at home or in High Springs, that I have to charge my phone twice as often. Goo.

When I finally do get reception, after about 15 minutes, I sound like this to the person on the other end.



"CALL LOST" is probably the most excruciating, infuriating shortened phrase of all time in the history of the g.d. universe.

Then if there's no real reason to continue talking on the phone, I get antsy "All right, well, I guess I'll talk to you later. Oh? No? You'd like to sit in silence while I keep pulling the phone from my ear, checking whether or not the call's been lost yet? Oh... 'kay."

Obligatory sigh into the phone that sounds like wind in the receiver. Mouth wind.

UPDATE: 10 reasons to avoid talking on the phone

You're just a guy, and I'm just a girl

To some people, I will never be good enough.

You will never be good enough.

None of us will ever be good enough.

Until I have $100,000 in laddered CDs, until I have a mortgage, until I have a doctorate. I won't be a woman until I have a baby, I won't be a contributing member of society until I have a 401(k), until I get married, until I file jointly with said spouse.

It's the same thing with relationships, but take this into consideration. Ladies, this dude is not here to save you. He's not in your life to solely make you happy. You are in charge of making you happy.

And vice versa, chumps. She's not there to be your mother, she's not there to make all your meals and make your decisions for you. That's your job.

She's just a girl, and you're just a dude.

Like in Donald Miller's lackluster "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years" he talks about an interview he did with Susan Isaacs for her book "Angry Conversations with God" (simmer, simmer, that's not where this is going). With her husband sitting in the audience, she said she didn't believe there was one true love for every person. Enter the block quote party:

"She said she and her husband believed they were a cherished prize for each other, and they would probably drive any other people mad. ... She said she had married a guy, and he was just a guy. He wasn't going to make her problems go away, because he was just a guy. And that freed her to really love him as a guy, not as an ultimate problem solver. And because her husband believed she was just a girl, he was free to really love her too. Neither needed the other to make everything okay. They were simply content to have good company through life's conflicts."

That's not to say that those people "settled" or that they "gave up," they just know that neither one of them is perfect.

We need to stop trying to put the pussy on a pedestal and realize we're all a bunch of "dysfunctional misfits" to quote Stella in "Rear Window." Excellent movie, if only for Grace Kelly's outfits and her scaling a building in a dress and heels so effortlessly.

Facetiously,
big p/p-hound/titties/ey, girl/cil/silly/little p/manbear/l'il bit/p

P.S. Thanks, Michelle McGee, for making the tattooed look like a bunch o' butter-faced home-wreckers.

Also, here's a picture of a fancy gent. The end.

"Sound and Fury"

(Hey, unrelated, but DanCoolo's going to play at the LA Comedy Shorts Film Festival. Party time, excellent.)

Is being deaf really a disability? It depends on who you talk to. The hearing world may see being deaf as a handicap, a defect, something to fix. The deaf community could not disagree more.

In my Comp 2 class, we were asked to write an essay reacting to the Deaf President Now student protest of 1988 that occurred in Washington D.C. at Gallaudet University, THE liberal arts university for the deaf and hard of hearing. It was this article that taught me about the Deaf community. I urge you to read about it at your leisure. 'Tis fascinating.

Yesterday I saw the documentary "Sound and Fury," (available for viewing in the Instant Queue on Netflix, dig it) which was nominated for an Oscar for Best Doc in 2001. Two brothers, borne of hearing parents -- one hearing, one deaf -- fight about whether or not to give their children cochlear implants so that they might be able to hear.



In the eyes of the Deaf community, they're not broken. They are not meant to be "fixed" with cochlear implants. They're perfectly functioning human beings in the world. Why fix something that isn't broken? By giving a child a cochlear implant, the parents are effectively robbing the Deaf community of another member of its group. That child will most likely never learn to sign and never fully understand or accept their deafness, their deaf identity.

The hearing world sees this as abuse. That by NOT giving a child a cochlear implant, they are restricting interaction, potential for great success, and the ability to communicate with the hearing world.

Here, I'll ruin it for you: The hearing brother has twin babies -- one hearing, one deaf. They give the son who is deaf the cochlear implant. The deaf brother, whose wife and three children are deaf, moves his family from Long Island, N.Y. to Maryland where the deaf population is significantly more concentrated. Each feels he is doing what is best for his family.

The cochlear implant is an intensely taboo subject. Similarly, the process of "limb lengthening" is highly controversial, especially among those born with dwarfism. Dwarfism is genetic and not a medical problem. This community doesn't feel "broken, in need of fixing."

Edit: Sound and Fury: 6 Years Later catches up with the families. The family that moved to Maryland moved back to Long Island and all three of their children received cochlear implants, as did countless members of their extended family.

Did the deaf community lose more members or are people who maybe once felt isolated now finding more opportunities in the hearing world?

Three new videos are up

Until I find time to fiddle with the code for this template, I'm not going to embed any videos here, just links. I'd much rather you see them in proper dimensions elsewhere than cut off and useless here.

I made three videos this week:

The Most Brutal Love Story Ever
password: masculinechinchilla

Stop! Chuppah Time!
no password

The Brand New Barabases
password: 100nonhumangiants

And if you don't want to watch my videos, check these out:
Celeste Boursier and her art things. They're pretty great.

Ratatat's "Mirando"

This cat loves the theremin.

Why I lurve my Sunpass

Well, more specifically, the people that work for Sunpass. For those that don't live in/come from Florida, there are several highways and what-have-yous that require a periodic toll during travel: Osceola Parkway, Florida's Turnpike, the 408, the 417, the 528, you get the idea. You have the option of the O-Pass for commuting or the Sunpass for deep-sea travel. The Sunpass is farther reaching, so bangarang, on we go.

I'll share two of my favorite conversations. The first was when I was in my last year at UCF, I'd run out of funds and had tried to hide the Sunpass from the laser robots, but they took the toll anyway (If you're curious, this is what happens and why I'm paranoid about it). I called them, told them I had a new car, explained the sitch:

Mr. Sunpass: Would you like to switch to automatic replenish so it doesn't happen again?
Me: Yeah, that's probably a great idea.
(We do the needful.)
Mr. Sunpass: Would you also like me to mail you a new polarized bag, free of charge?
Me: Yes, actually, that would be awesome.
Mr. Sunpass: Sure, I'll go ahead and do that for you. You know, I had a Corolla once.
Me: ... Yeah?
Mr. Sunpass: Yep! But then I totaled it.
Me: ... Oh.
Mr. Sunpass: ... Anyway. Is there anything else I can do for you?

The second conversation I had just this past weekend. I'm pretty sure I flew through that first toll because that Sunpass flashed red at me. At 5:42pm on a Friday, I call them. Yeah, I'm that girl. I want ANSWERS. So I stay on hold for five minutes until a young lady answers. I'm flying down Florida's Turnpike at 70+ mph with a phone in one hand and the steering wheel and a Sunpass betwixt the other, reading off the 12-digit transponder number. I don't tell her this. What a boner shrinker that would have been. I won't transcribe the conversation, but my battery was good (which they're able to check on THEIR computer system) and my balance was good. HMMM.

In any case, we figured I'd just continue flying through the tolls, hoping for the solid green and the happy beep noise. She also sent more adhesive so I could put the transponder back on my windshield. It fell off long ago and started to stink like a Fourth of July arm-wrestling contest, so I kept in one of the Corolla's many compartmentables. My additional adhesive came in the mail today. For freesies. Why was this one of my favorites? Because our speech was that of college roommates trying to find the mystery smell in the apartment, us on our respective ends of the phone saying "Hmm, maybe it's ... hmm" and then mutually agreeing "Ehh. Screw it, gun it, I'll send you some more velcro."

I think I enjoy that gentle courtesy because in my mind, I imagine them walking to a supply closet, handpicking the adhesive/polarized bag, selecting a Sunpass-stamped envelope, printing out my address label, and then they themselves licking the envelope and sending it on its way.

It's what I imagine, don't ruin the fantasy.

This is not my surrender

Working in the corporate world is addicting, enticing, and comfortable.

I had a taste of "Will I work tomorrow?" for a while and I hated the insecurity and uncertainty of whether I'd be supporting myself comfortably that month. Having a steady, full-time position, (almost!) ensures a paycheck at least every two weeks and it's (almost!) always the same amount every time. But outside the corporate world, one day I could work eight hours and get $64 before taxes, but the next could be an 12-hour day with a wardrobe bump for a whopping $109 before taxes. Daggum!

Some have the insatiable thirst for moving up a corporate ladder. Climbing those Armani-lined rungs, expanding those vague "businessy" skills, and maybe getting a 3% raise at the end of the year gets some people out of bed in the morning and into those Kohl's slacks and tie. I could be "background talent" for three years and never "earn" anything more unless I paid the $2k to join a union. And even then, there's not a guarantee I'll get anything bigger or better. Then starts the "I need an agent/casting director to love me" dance.

And so I'll admit it, at some point, the corporate world becomes comfortable. You start bringing in pictures of your life partner, you set your desktop background to your daughter's first birthday and your ass slowly starts to widen and melt into your swively desk chair, because your job has become your life. And g.d. it if you don't love it for just an instant.

I'm not saying I've given up. By no means. It's just that now I can understand how easy it would be to do it.
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Found a list of the top 16 dystopian books of all time. I've read a bunch of these, but still would like to explore the rest. Read any of 'em? I dare say that I do enjoy a dystopian novel or two.

Would you like to learn a new skill or hone a current one? I'd love to investigate this list.

Looking for a book? Apparently there are over 200 places to find books online. But are they the "good ones"?

Finally, this is Darwin Deez's "Radar Detector"

I did not know that

1. What is formspring.me?
"Send and receive anonymous questions, and learn more about people you find interesting by following their answers." It looks like another FarmVille attack on Facebook. I don't think the concept would work the other way around. At least not in America where individualism is dominant -- me, me, me and what I want is more important than you. I'd much rather listen than share. It's like pulling teeth to get anything out of me.

2. Who are Jedward?
Irish twins called John and Edward. They're from UK's "X-Factor." They're weird and awful. They covered "Ice Ice Baby" and I don't feel good about it. Here's a link to their audition on the show. Ugh.

3. Who is Lee Pace?
This is Lee Pace.
He graduated from Julliard, played Calpernia Addams in "Soldier's Girl" and the list goes on and on. So you can guess I've got a lot of items to add to the Queue. Jesus.

4. How did they (insert effect) in "Anti-Christ"? (Spoiler, totally)
Porn actor doubles, a mold of the porn actress's vagina, the Phantom V4, over 80 shots of computer-generated imagery and 4,500 man hours from associates in Poland (4,000) and Sweden (500).

In other news:
Frank DanCoolo: Paranormal Drug Dealer has been accepted as an official selection at Toronto's International World of Comedy Film Festival this weekend. Next weekend: Gasparilla Film Festival in Tampa. I won't be able to attend. It also landed an article at Cinema Suicide. That's a good thing.

I needed to start keeping a list of the passwords and videos, just in case. Of what, I don't know.
I play the glockenspiel - glock
My Incredibly Captivating Life - sandwichparty
I'm in the car a lot. - businesstime
Jill's Bachelorette Weekend - fishmonkey
I went on a cruise. - dramamine
It was my birthday. - skyscrapers
I still play the glockenspiel. - rachmaninoff
Saccharine - cavitysearchandseizure

You hold the nail, I'll swing the hammer

After being a hermit for a few weeks, I was able to get out and be around people. Handshakes, slow dances, and in one weekend riding four different airplanes are great for sharpening those courtesy skills I love so much.

Went to my friends' wedding, got to dance to some sweet jams on the effing Queen Mary in Long Beach. Slow dances are nice, even if they're just to be polite. I'm not sure if this is just our crowd or if something has changed: When the bride geared up for the bouquet-throw, the single ladies begrudgingly lined up to "catch" it, heads bowed, heels dragging. I stood in the front of the group and thought "You can suck a bag o' dicks, Bouquet." None of us wanted to catch the thing. The bride threw it and I watched it soar over my head and land straight into the crossed arms of one of our happiest-to-be-single friends. Defiant in her stance, the flowers still managed to land and remain nestled betwixt her bosom and crossed arms. Epic. She's not a superstitious girl, but was she salty (not to mention wicked trayshed) for the rest of the afternoon!

Also, I remembered how much I love guys in vintage suits. Tweeds, suspenders, what-have-you. Anyway.

This week, I went to a show because it's been a while and I got to meet up with a past co-worker who helps manage a couple of the bands.

If I have friends who have friends in bands, sometimes I will be introduced to them. Although they shake my hand firmly, make eye contact and genuinely ask about my day, I still know I'll probably never see them again, and that's a bummer if they turn out to love the same planet that I do or enjoy Thai food as rabidly. But the conversation is nice and it's comforting to see them as real people.

Now about those flights:

I had a crying baby pre-take-off on three out of the four flights, but they always passed out after take-off, which is still quite a mystery to me.

There was a woman next to me who was afraid of other people's germs and had two small plastic containers with clear fluid in them, fluid I will assume to be alcohol. When anyone would sneeze she would cover her face with a handkerchief, no matter how far away they were to her seat. You can bet she probably wanted to throw up her vitamin water, cranberry juice and "clear fluid" beverage when she heard the baby behind her coughing to its heart's content.

There was a woman on the flight directly home who had been laid off from the automotive industry, so she decided to go back to school for health management systems and technology. Her brother had a stroke recently, so she's been in Cleveland for quite a while, hanging out with him. This would be her 5-day getaway back to Florida, where she spent many years. And if I remember correctly, her sister is going through a horrible divorce. Yes, she told me all of that.

I met a guy who had a degree in economics, but decided to go back for more debt and a graphic design degree. He had a tome for After Effects and sat highlighting passages he may need for his training session the next day in San Diego. He wants to work in film. I told him that the TV show "Psych" is shot in Canada instead of the scripted Santa Barbara. His eyes bulged through his Coke-bottle glasses. He said he was reading over my shoulder and wanted the deets on the book. He didn't say "deets."

P.S. If that effing killer whale had an S in his given name, his name would be an anagram for "I must kill."

The Crafting Issue

I've been making lots of things this month and it's barely mid-month.

I finished the second version of my fascinator. Poppy made by this lady.


I made Paul a hat!


I gave away a bunch of hats, some of which were exchanged for money. Whoa. Crazy. I know. I also helped play Cupid. It was heart-swelling(?). They're already dating, but sometimes it's nice to let someone know that he or she is still very special. The end.

I'm also about to embark on a terrifying adventure involving sheer fabric, lots of tape markers, fabric glue, and ribbon. Here's the outline with which I'm working, minus the squares beneath.

There's just a grid of 1'x1' squares underneath so I can figure out what the hell I'm doing. I'm so scared/excited/scared some more that it's going to look like crap. But you're all cheering for me, I'm sure. You're all so lovely. It's going to be a huppah for my friends' Jill and Josh's wedding in a few weeks.

Friends, I'm interested in finding new blogs, about random things. I don't have to know them personally. You don't have to know them personally. I've already got what feels like a crapton of blogs I follow, but I'm always looking for more. Suggestions? I know there are whole communities out there, just not sure where they're hiding.

I was also pointed to a couple of blogs that reviewed Frank DanCoolo: Paranormal Drug Dealer in the wake of the Boston Sci-Fi Fest. Thanks to Soresport and FilmForager for their kind words! Next month: Gasparilla in Tampa! If we screen during the weekend, I'll go.

This weekend: LA wedding on the Queen Mary. Party.

And finally, here are two true friends. You do things for your friends when they're sad. So do these guys. That's all.

Reality TV has melted my brains

Here's the other 75%. What would happen if we switched the genders on shows like "The Pick-Up Artist" and "Tough Love"?

"The Pick-Up Artist" teaches "socially inept" males how to stop being awkward and find their confidence when interacting with females. (I'll save you the trouble: it involves a big fuzzy top hat and a lot of "Let me get a lady's opinion" questions.) It doesn't promise them the perfect girl at the end, just a way into meeting a metric ass-ton of girls (and keeping them on speed-dial friend-mode "just in case"), but hopefully leading to a fulfilling relationship when they're ready. I guess? Probably not.

"Tough Love" is just a matchmaking show. Some to most of the girls end up doing the "I think I'm falling for you" face for the one and only guy they were matched up with on the show. They're put in situations that tell them not to rely on their looks for attention, that it's not acceptable to be single your whole life, and that the older you get, the less picky you should be. Wait. Maybe not that, but something similar. Someone else want to weigh in on that one?

But what about a show that showed socially inept females how to get over being awkward and meet a bunch of guys? Is that trait somehow cute and worth perpetuating? Being an awkward female isn't cute or funny in real life, only in movies. I mean actual awkward, not the trendy awkward everyone's got such a boner for right now.

And through my observations and research, if "Tough Love" was made with males, a date would walk through the door, some of them would take one look at her and say yes or no. This would go on and on all night long until the producers found somebody "hot" enough. If he doesn't like your outsides in the first 30 seconds, the end. This is what I've learned; if I'm wrong, please discuss it with the group.

That said, shows like "The Bachelor," "Rock of Love," and "Flavor of Love" crack me up. The guy already knows who he wants, but the TV audience (mainly other women) are given the assumption that he's actually giving each girl a "fair" chance at "love." So the show is dragged out for months and gobs of money are made. So it goes.

But(!) I'd like to think there are more people out there like Henry Rollins. I'd like to think he wasn't lying when he said "I want a woman who can sit me down, shut me up, tell me ten things I don't already know, and make me laugh. I don't care what you look like, just turn me on. And if you can do that, I will follow you on bloody stumps through the snow. I will nibble your mukluks with my own teeth. I will do your windows. I will care about your feelings. Just have something in there."

And on this Valentine's weekend, I leave you with a tale of love and a space mission. And Carl Sagan. NPR: Carl Sagan and Ann Druyan's Ultimate Mix Tape

P.S. "Frank DanCoolo: Paranormal Drug Dealer" was given an encore presentation at the Boston Sci-Fi Film Festival.

On honesty, kinda

I feel like at some point in human history, humans were honest with each other. And then something happened, the result of which is what we do to each other now.

Here's an example of when honesty pays off, so to speak.

Don't tell me you wouldn't bang Zooey in her dad's car while he was upstairs at the chiropractor.

This is an example of when it's too late to be honest, and after you've already been caught.

I think this example is more of what recent generations considers honesty, but veiled honesty, because you're not the one saying it. Petey Gabriel is. I'm sure you have the visual in your head, so here's just the single. On "Modern Family," this was re-created, but with a smart phone. Sigh.

I thirst for knowledge. I just want answers NOW, so I don't waste my time. But I can't have them. Even if I asked. Even if I begged.

This is what I imagine most guys are thinking (or this). Friend Ian thinks this is the "meanest.song.ever." but I think what he means is "best.song.ever."


And lastly on honesty: In my limited studies of humanistic traditions, ignoring someone has never been an acceptable form of telling them you didn't want to speak to them anymore, but we do it every day. We know it's mean, but we do it anyway. "If somethin' comes up, then it must come out."

For Chris

Chris, you will be greatly missed. May your inherent bad-assery live on for centuries upon a millenia.


Please remember that you affect a life every day. For the positive or for the negative. I hate to be cheesy, but seriously.

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Unrelated, I finished another video. It's called "Saccharine." The password is "cavitysearchandseizure". You're not really supposed to like it, I just thought it'd be something to assuage your boredom or restlessness.

On etiquette and courtesy

Working in the corporate world, I've noticed more than just the sharp-dressed men, the cubicle farms, and caffeinated beverage breaks. I've also noticed the greater presence of etiquette, courtesy, and, yes, chivalrous behavior. Before you roll your eyes, this is not a post about bashing chivalrous behavior. It's really not.

I have my own brand that I use, but only out of habit. At my last job, I was introduced to every single person in my department individually and I noticed that I ever-so-slightly did a curtsy. Yes, you're allowed to laugh. I still do it. I will shake the person's hand, regardless of gender, with adequate strength and make eye contact, BUT afterward I will tilt my head and eyes down the tiniest bit and then somehow my left foot trails around my right foot into a baby curtsy. Why do I do this!? I have no idea. I just love the idea of the curtsy/bow. The lower you bowed, the more respect you were giving that person.

It's the same idea with applauding -- the higher you raise your clapping hands, the more you enjoyed the performance. Not counting the screams of approval.

In any case, because I'm one of the younger ladies at the office building, I had to get used to the previous generation's habit of door-opening. And I'm essentially not really allowed to hold a door open for a man, even if I beat him to the door and was holding the door open for other people before him. I usually get the "I appreciate the effort" smile, and they usually put their arm above my head to hold the door for me. It's semi-awkward, and it happens rather frequently. I like holding doors open for people! So now I just time it, smile, and thank the person.

I enjoy being courteous, but people just won't let me. I read of another woman who's kinda confused about what to do these days.

There are two different reactions to the behavior, one of which can be seen in the comments on the blog "Man of Exception." She's an idiot, though, so. Whatev.

However, this opinion piece is my favorite that I've come across so far and the explanation of why he does it makes my face do the smile thing. It's called "Chivalry: Not dead, just in intensive care." Granted, it's 8 years old, but I think it's still relevant and poignant.

I also believe that if you took the time, effort, and monetary hardship to earn a Ph.D., M.D., or something equivalent in the field of education, it's important to acknowledge a person as "Dr. Thompson," etc. I know, they hate it because it's stuffy, but I think it's respectful. I also call boys "sir" and girls "ma'am." Get over it, the lot of you.

I want to go to there

There are two things that I feel compelled to do in June:

1. Attend the last two days of World Science Festival 2010 in New York.

2. Travel to London the weekend that England plays in the World Cup. Yes, I know the match will be in South Africa, but come on, London is going to be a shithouse-riot-on-fire sandwich party! And Janine and I have friends we can go bother during the day. So it goes.

Here's the potential problem: World Science Festival will be June 5th and 6th. London trip will be the 10th through the 14th. Don't stifle the laughter, you're right, this is batshit.

I don't think it's crazy, but I do see the "Hey, do you think that's the best idea?" argument. Please, someone talk me out of it. I love when people try to talk me out of things. It keeps me regular. It might actually cause me to change my mind. I need to hear both sides of the record, so to speak. London is an all-systems-go deal. I'm definitely going to that. But can you imagine? The World Science Festival!? Has anyone gone? Does anyone else want to go? I figure if I have the cash, the means, and the weekend in which to do it, why not?

This was the main selling point. This is an excerpt from a program last year called "Notes & Neurons: In Search of the Common Chorus." Enjoy the video, fellow nerds:

World Science Festival 2009: Bobby McFerrin Demonstrates the Power of the Pentatonic Scale from World Science Festival on Vimeo.

I know it'll be different from last year, but I'm sure to have an inexplicable time. I'll probably just get a hotel. Begging friends for lodging is so uncouth and slightly inconvenient.

Watch out, I'm watching "Kinsey" tonight!

P.S. I've gotten into the habit of blogging daily and I find that that habit has diluted my content and has also made me have verbal diarrhea. I'll keep quiet until I've got something "smart" to say. Any suggestions are welcome. :)

flotsam and jetsam

Can someone explain to me when it became appropriate to make entries in UrbanDictionary.com that were about someone's significant other as a definition of perfection? Try it.

Enter your first name into the search and you'll see it. It's retarded. There are two pages of people saying how great Priscillas are. Some were kinda funny, but then I realized all girls are the same: don't get on her bad side, she'll bring you good luck for the next 740 years, and she kinda scares you, but in the good way. The dirty dozen of my blog followers will have the biggest ego stroke of the day with that. That's what I'm calling you. My dirty dozen. Who wants to be Proof? Ehhh.

Things are still a little frizzle-frazzle right now, so here's some funny/awkward/awesome from the day:

The Bullet Dodger

I was out sick on Friday from work. I missed what happened. Twenty of our best and brightest were laid off. Twenty faces with twenty families, perhaps twenty children, and maybe even twenty houses. All scattered. This morning I was called into our editor-in-chief's office, and the door closed behind me.

I would not be laid off. My job title would change and a small pay raise would be implemented. It was a new position that they recently created in light of our new-found SEO fanaticism and desire for a solid keyword taxonomy.

So, I don't know what the responsibilities are yet, but continuing to be a copy editor is one of them. Guess what my new job title is.

CONTENT LIBRARIAN

I just can't get escape that word, can I? "Librarian." Granted, I consider the title a GUARDIAN OF CONTENT, A SENTINEL OF TEXT, A GATEKEEPER OF KNOWLEDGE. Yes, in all caps, that's how it goes.

Although unrelated, the term reminded me of a certain principle: In the same vein as a business, you have to decide what kind of audience you want in order to achieve your own success. And, if you're not attracting the right audience, consider all the variables affecting the perception of your product. I'm saying if it's not getting you what you want, but you believe in the product, consider altering your packaging and altering your approach.

Take Lady Gaga for instance. For all intents and purposes, she was just another singer/songwriter from Yonkers trying to make her way. But it wasn't until she went clinically insane, decided that her credit score didn't mean shit, and built an alter ego, that she found the success she always fantasized about. The product never changed, but her approach and her packaging gave her the Wow Factor.

I posit that the same principle can be asserted in "dating." Your thoughts? I'm not saying change who you are, but take a look at what kind of bait you're throwing to figure out what kind of fish you want to catch.

Don't like the fish? Get new bait.
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Oh, Anna Karina. You so pretty.

You came to the wrong address

So when I'm sick, I zone out, consume copious amounts of Zicam via my nasal passages, Mucinex down my gullet, and movies through my eyeballs. Here's the list thus far:

Henry Rollins: Shock & Awe
The Business of Being Born
Day Watch (Dnevnoy Dozor), sequel to the crazy Night Watch
The Orphanage (El Orfanato)
Super High Me
Modify
The Comedians of Comedy (seen before, still love it)
Eddie Izzard: Dress to Kill (seen before, still love it)
Very Young Girls
C'est Arrivé Près de Chez Vous (Man Bites Dog)
Bande á Part (Band of Outsiders)
Delicatessen (10 years before he made Amelie)
Happenstance

All are mildly to extremely awesome, except for "Super High Me." It's a waste of time. Obviously. I watched it so you didn't have to. I'm a chronic people pleaser. I aim to please you.