Thursday, August 21, 2008

really, this is gross.

I use to keep up with friends. Without it, I would have missed out on pictures of an old friends, new babies, updates on college roommates. I appreciate it. But. Increasingly, I have had to first bypass the RIDICULOUS amount of advertising literally wallpapering the sign-in page. But this is going too far. Not everyone is friends with bacon. What really surprises me is that PETA makes NO MENTION! of the bacon wallpaper or "everyone's friends with bacon" claim on their Myspace page. Do our brains simply bypass adverinfo?! I'm nauseous.

Monday, August 18, 2008

testing testing

SO I'm relatively new to this. Blogging. Blogging alone, at least. I have lots of thoughts everyday, but it seems they make it to my journal a lot easier than they make it to my keyboard. I guess this is an excuse, maybe to myself, maybe to my blog, maybe to you.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

thrifty. crafty. etsy.

Three of my favorite things! There's no spending guilt at Etsy, where your money (minus a 25cent listing fee) goes into the pockets of artisans, who personally handle and mail your purchase. Items include everything from one-of-a-kind greeting cards to highly detailed $8000+ wood tables. Sellers are easy to contact, and the site is about as user friendly as it gets, with a variety of search options. Want something green? Use the color tool, which locates listings based on whichever hue strikes your fancy.

Here are a few things I've permanently affixed to my wish list . . .

Catnip Sushi!
Less than $10 with shipping!
Hand knit and filled with catnip, for the
cultured kitty.

"Octopusme", an Etsy seller and artist with a love for slimy sea creatures, has an AMAZING like of Octopus tentacle jewelry. Cast from the real thing, she has earrings, pendants, and my favorite - this strange ring .. . It's a bit pricy, $160 for the ring, but they are each custom-made, and in my opinion, well worth it.

This Dictionary Pendant is made from an image taken from a dictionary printed in 1936. Historical. Reasonable at $30, I love the antique look!

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

in paint

I love to paint. I don't want to as much as I .. need to. When I paint, there is always a reason - stress, joy, sadness, or just an insatiable need to quench an urge, an urge I cannot pinpoint the origin of. I think about this a lot, try and focus in on what it is exactly that produces this energy. I'd like to tap it, and redirect it into more .. administrative .. areas of my life.

I came across an article on Mail Online, a site based in London, and it caught my eye. When Tommy McHugh, a 58-year-old former builder, suffered a brain hemorrhage seven years ago, a funny thing happened.

"About a month after the haemorrhage, the creative urges began. I started writing poetry, but in a manic way. Was it any good? I don't know, but I could fill five exercise books a day. The painting urge came on about two months later.

'I was filing up any spare paper I had with drawings and paintings. Within weeks I wanted to paint more and more and had started painting walls. Now my house looks like one big collage of my work with every surface - even furniture - painted with a face or scene. "

If a traumatic injury could "turn on" the seemingly same neurotic creative juice I have had my whole life ... is it something physical? Is there a cat-scannable THING? quirk? defect? in my skull?


win·ning·est ?

After winning his fifth gold medal this year, Michael Phelps brings his career total to eleven, making him ... "the winningest Olympic athlete ever," according to The Poughkeepsie Journal.

I have a problem with that - hearing it makes me cringe, reading makes me double back, and thinking about it .. well .. I'm not sure what to think. It sounds stupid, like amazingest, or losingest.

Merriam-Websters doesn't agree, and hasn't since 1973. The New York Times seems to have sided with me, calling him the "
career leader in Olympic golds." Classy NYT, classy.

no wonder .. the man's body is like an eel, long and lean and PERFECT for the winning eleven gold medals in swimming.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Where am I now? I can't tell.

During my search for the truth about silence, I came across an interesting tidbit on Anne LeClaire's blog . . ..

"In an interview, someone, I think it was either Carol Shield or Margaret Atwood, once summed up her life by saying that when she was writing she didn't have a life and when she had a life she wasn't writing."


Silent retreats

"For those who desire to deeply realize the truth of their being and the essence of existence"

Really? silence? I'm the first to admit that silence is not my strongest point. I always thought hysterical rants, the most recent brought on by a glowing orange, engine shaped icon, were vital to mental stability. Better out than in. If something is bothering me that badly, so badly that the energy produced as a result uncontrollably spews from me, I should let it. Stay silent? I would almost definitely stroke.

But, I could be wrong. The retreat description continues,
“Silence is the container of retreat to which all participants dedicate themselves, for it is in inner silence that deep realization spontaneously blooms.” – Adyashanti.

Maybe I'll give it a try. But is this stuff for real, or just some hushed farce concealed by eastern themes?