LaurieWrites

R U Serious?

It's good to have a skill.  However, I had no idea that there was a GENRE for, as this story defines it, "professional, competition texting," OR a "cell phone text-messaging heap." And while somewhere in my subconscious mind I'm thinking, "Great, another heap I'm NOT at the top of. Jesus, could I FEEL a little more inadequate," this story confirms my theory that as the texters take over, we're going to evolve into three-fingered Sleestacks.

I find it entertaining to receive and to send text messages, but mostly the ones I manage are of the short and sweet variety, like, "What?" and "Haha, I am going to send you a stupid picture now," and "ARE YOU BRINGING THE WINE? NOW???" I find that I get frustrated with the tiny keys and it isn't so much fun for me, and I've more or less bagged doing anything that isn't at least potentially fun. And speed is not a strong suit for me either, since I have a hard-wired inability to revert to Prince language. "U" is not a pronoun, and "r" is not a verb. If I sent a message like that, my friends would be like, "Where is she? And why did you steal her phone?" However, I fully support your right to adjust the spelling however you want, unless I'm grading your paper, sucka, so I'm really NOT a self-righteous pain in the ass about it. I do really need to know (No, I really NEED to know.) how they came up with that phrase for the competition though. So if anyone knows, text me, baby. Kthxbye.

BloggedHer

I can't even fully process everything that I'd like to write down at this point, which may or may not make me an adequate keeper of a blog.

Just, all I can say is that the days since Thursday have been a wonderful blur of everything good, except for a hotel room that I don't enjoy (see post below containing the Saga of the Open Door.) I cannot remember having a better time clothed. (Were you waiting for a smiley face or some shit like that? Some things I totally don't joke about. For real.) Blogher was amazing. It was everything glowy and good that you may have read about or experienced if you've arrived here from that part of my world (and if you have, rock on! I'm glad you dropped by! And why am I all of a sudden exclaiming when I normally despise the overuse of exclaiming? Curious.) And if you came here otherwise and don't know what in the world this Blogher is of which I speak, just know that it is most excellent,and the snacks were overwhelmingly adequate.

I wasn't really sure what to expect at this conference, but it honestly was not to have such a wonderful time. I'm in a field where conferences equal ten hour days of workshops and lectures and poster sessions and roundtables on seriously DEEP THOUGHTS...where heavy stuff is piled on top of heavy stuff so by the time the day is over you're just beat. This week was so, so different.

At this event, I felt energized. From literally the hour I arrived, I met cool woman after cool woman, all who write or somehow keep a record online about their lives, their communities, the social issues they care about, politics, art, food - everything. Literally everything, and they really want to tell you about it.

I'm having trouble describing this in a way that isn't sort of overwrought and dramatic, because at times I felt like that. It was nice to know that other people were feeling and experiencing the things that I sit and think and write about at 2 a.m. in my basement, feeling freakish. It was great to meet people whose sites I read and find that they were just as excellent in person. I liked meeting "mommybloggers" and women whose dogs are their kids about equally. I loved being on the podcasting team, and when I've found the link, will tell you what movies to go see our leader Toy in (she doesn't keep a blog, by the way, but she's promised to take a peek at mine now and again.) I'm going to post very soon a list of links to some of the great women writers that I met.  I think they should get as wide an audience as possible.

Today I went with some new friends to San Francisco, and I truly wasn't there long enough (only sorry that Lauren had to leave - good times were had!) Melanie Morgan of New Media Collective took the Caltrain in with me, and then we grabbed a bus to Chinatown. After a yummy dim sum lunch, we found the cable cars and rode to Fisherman's Wharf. We met up with Brittany and Ryanne there, the goddesses of videoblogging, and walked around and took pictures and met people...and ate some more, and shopped a little. I can't wait to go back to this beautiful city. I know I saw about twenty percent - maybe - of what I'd like to see.

I know I'm leaving stuff out. I'm tired.

Tomorrow I go to Santa Cruz, so I can see what  Cali beach town is like. Given my love of the ocean, this is of course very crucial comparative geography. I'm home on Tuesday at midnight, and work beckons almost immediately (oh lord please help me now), but there's so much I want to detail - so many interesting and talented women I need to link to - I'll need an extra day next week to catch up.

Many, many thanks to Lisa Stone, for allowing me to sign on as a travel and recreation editor for Blogher. I wouldn't have had this experience if it weren't for you. You're one of my American idols, that's for sure.

More about all of this later, but I'm so tired.

So I'm here in San Jose, which is going quite well. I'm having an absolute shit-kicking blast. I'm serious. I am so incredibly glad that I came out here, and that's after a day and a half. I imagine tomorrow will be even better. There will be more details to come, I'm certain.

We're staying in a Hyatt by the airport. It's okay. It's a little dodgy - nothing too special, but it's clean, which is my main concern. I can't stand dirty places, or places that feel dirty even if they don't look it. And at this point, I'm used to staying in hotels by myself, and that doesn't bother me either. But tonight, I came back from a long day of working on the podcasting team (hello? I'm on the audio support team. Can you believe that shit? I am wearing headphones and operating expensive recording equipment. I KNOW. And today this guy told me I had "good levels", because all of the green lights stayed green and the orange light stayed orange and the red light only showed up a few times. And when he said that I got all proud of myself. I'm insisting that we all get our photo taken with our headphones on tomorrow. I'm sure I'll share.)

ANYWAY, I came back from all that techie goodness, and my hotel door was...open. Like, I went to put the key card in, and the door just pushed open. I was terrified. They had made some announcement that because the blogher conference was on the front page of the local paper, the hotel was all concerned because now people knew there were "700 women with laptops and expensive cameras populating the Hyatt", and we should be careful with our stuff. So I imagined that whomever they were talking about had, of course, come personally to my 3rd floor room and just, well, opened my door. I didn't know what to do. I'm in kind of a remote building on this property, which also doesn't thrill me, so I thought that if some dude was hiding in my bathtub and I went in the room, no one would hear me scream. I have, shall we say, the gift of fear. So I skulked downstairs, and promptly ran into this badass woman, who lives in Baltimore and has a site that I love.

"Hmm," I said to her, "I'm probably being really paranoid, but the door to my room was open and now I'm a little (HA! TRY SCARED SHITLESS TIL SUNDAY) to go in. Hm."

"Do you want me to go with you, to check it out?" she said. Eternally grateful, I said, "Would you?" and she was all, "Sure. I'll go." So Tracy and I went up the elevator again to my open-door room. She pushed the door and said, "Hellooooooo?" while I kind of stood there like a person whose room it was not .There was no answer, of course, so she came in with me and looked in the closet and the bathroom, and there was nobody there. I felt a little silly, but in the manner of a woman who I will totally love for all time, she said that she was always about people feeling safe, and whatever she could do.

No really, so nice of her.

So there was no one in my room, and I had kept all money and my camera and computer with me all day. The windows to my room were unlocked (this place and then Boston. What's with all the unsealed hotel windows?) I didn't know they had locks, and I noticed that the curtains (which are approximately 67 years old anyway) were kind of yanked off on one end. I couldn't remember if they were like that when I left, or if my mind was playing tricks on me. Everything else seemed intact in the room, which was odd also.

I'm still a little nervous - and I don't care about stuff so much as my personal safety, of course. It's scary to think that someone could be in your room, or that they can just come and go as they please. I hope the rest of the week is completely uneventful in that regard, and now, since it's almost 4 EST, I'm going to pass out. The windows are closed and the door is bolted. Nothing to see here.

Just for a moment. Just for an hour.

Song of the day - "Just to be Close to You", Lionel Richie. Why? WE-he-hell, hold on a minute, hot stuff. That is called a setup. Or foreshadowing. Or something...

Really, why?  Okay, so I'm currently in the Los Angeles airport (which is really sort of dumpy, much to my surprise) and I'm not ashamed to admit that I was all about seeing Brangelina or Jessica Simpson while I was here. Can't help it. Years of a weekly smack habit called People magazine (and now the Website too. God. I have no shot at being a productive citizen ANY MORE. It's OVER.) have bred a benign interest in the famous, the silly, the talented, and the talentless that I can only defend because I read a lot of "smart people stuff" too that makes me have to think and ponder and analyze something way beyond whether or not Tom Cruise has locked his daughter up in a cage. We all need breaks, and People is my thing (one of them, anyway. You really don't want to know how many there actually are, but I'm sure you can imagine.) 

I haven't given up hope on the Brangelina or Jessica sighting, for sure, but I will tell you one thing that almost surpasses that possibility: I saw Lionel Richie! I was looking around for some wireless and some food, in that order, because I'm a cracked out internet junkie with a deep and abiding problem. It's a good thing I'm busying my hands with this madness because I guess otherwise I'd really be at my highest weight ever at this point. (not yet, thank God. There's still hope, and as long as I can measure it in ounces I'm going to.)

Sorry, digression. So yeah, I'm in LAX, like People always calls it - i.e., "Mary Kate Olsen fuels up with a mango and "coke" (get it? Get their smooth insinuations and friendly yet deadly patter? Oh yeah, it's how Star Tracks rolls, totally) smoothie as she waifs her way through LAX after a red-eye from NYC." And I was walking along, and damned if there wasn't Li-o-NEL, right there. Of course I'm fresh off my Jazzfest high where he was the headliner, and have long since outed myself as a fan of both his AND the Commodores. I've even forgiven him partially for "Ballerina Girl" at this point (although never "Say You, Say Me," because that stupid fast bridge at the end is so lame and the lyrics so ridiculous that I can't bear to hear it, even if it means turning off Delilah.)

I unfortunately missed my chance at paparazzi-dom (like I'd need another method of being PART OF THE PROBLEM. Really.) because I haven't slept in a long time and I was kind of disoriented, so my reaction time was bad. I'd just gotten off a long flight where the Very Important Airplane Designer next to me used his laptop the whole time and kept knocking into me. He didn't do it hard, just enough to be annoying after the tenth time, and when it got up in the hundreds, blah. He had no "using the computer in the center seat" skills, and five hours of that plus no sleep just isn't good. I did make an initial grab for the camera bag, but I was too slow, and Lionel had already passed me. A photo of his back was within the realm of possibility, but that seemed a little pathetic even to me, and standing as I was in the middle of the concourse, I knew that in my current bedraggled state I would not just look like but would indeed BE Crazy Camera Lady. I'm not trying to get this camera yanked on my first day in California. I could be a plant for the Enquirer for all they know.

So congratulate me - or feel sorry for me that I care a little bit, pick your poison - that I saw an interesting-to-me famous person in my first hour on the west coast. I imagine I'll be geeking out quite a bit more than maybe even is usual, so I'm not apologizing in advance, even though I probably should.

  This is a church across the street, reflected in the MICA building. The guy in the gray tshirt is one of the Zendik dudes who sell the "Stop bitching, start a revolution" tshirts. They all live on a farm in like West Virginia or somewhere and come out to sell the tshirts at events. 

Shobha's jewelry. I didn't get many good photos of it. I wasn't having a good day in that regard.

This band, Kinky, came all the way from a gig in Tijuana the night before to play at Artscape, and offered this song up for "all the horny people." That was nice of him.

Big tattoo.

This poodle was wearing little shoes, and was being walked by a boy who looked like Huey from the Boondocks. with a little extra thug vibe. This is extra proof that one cannot prejudge the type of person who will provide his or her dog - poodle, no less - with shoes to protect his paws whilst roaming the mean streets of the big city. This kills me twice, this photo.  And the last is my little thug. Check it.

-ing

hearing - "Ode to a Butterfly", and the rest of "Nickel Creek", Nickel Creek. I'm in love with their voices right now.
drinking - Coffee that desperately needs to be reheated. Really, it's so gross that it's surpassed the usual level of grossness that I can tolerate in a leftover cup of coffee. (And just a note: fat-free half and half has no purpose. It is poison and the people who invented it and those who manufacture it should be jailed, because I really believe it is worse for you than drinking ground water outside of a car wash. Use a little of the real stuff and walk around the fucking block, for God's sake. Fat free also seems to equal "obscene amounts of sugar and cellulose (talk about scary, yo) added to mimic consistency of food acceptable on a planet not yet discovered, to be consumed by people with mouths on their foreheads." Whatever, dude.)
holding - Just held a catalog to swat this scary flying insect out of the room. It always scares me when I see things that can bite that I don't recognize as indigenous to the East Coast. That's all I need is some strange disease from an insect bite. I tried to catch him peacefully so I could let him out the door with all limbs intact, but he wouldn't capitulate. I did what I could, and he finally got out but I'm not sure he'll be flying for long.
eating - My leftover crabcake from last night's dinner. It was really, really good. You should be so jealous, if you're into shellfish in any way.

sitting - I'm actually sort of lounging, now that you mention it. It's like I stay tired this month.
fighting - A dreadful headache, because they've been pounding on the roof all day and my frontal lobe can't take it anymore.
thinking - Obsessing about something that I'm not supposed to think about at all, which is completely ridiculous so could someone please explain to me why my brain is damaged? Really. I'm starting to think it's broken, because most of the time I have such extreme common sense that it's disgusting, because I can't ever claim I didn't know any better (nice grammar, no?). But the one percent of the stuff that I'm stupid about seems to be so profoundly debilitating that it almost cancels out the 99. Please explain this to me. (Rhetorical, right?) I've been giving a lot of advice lately - I think I actually need some, so then I can at least have something solid to ignore while I'm making unfortunate choices.
wanting - To be far, far away and not have to come back for a month...to be better able to control my thoughts and impulses...to have an extra five hours in my day...to stick to my exercise program...a brooklyn brownstone apartment...my dog to be a puppy again (how pathetic is that, but that thought occurred to me last night and it made me cry, I am such a loser baby.)...some other stuff too.
reading - tripadvisor.com, obsessively. I also just read the Jammin' Java schedule and it turns out those completely alluring boys in The Alternate Routes will be there on August 11, so I do not indeed have to pretend to still be badass and go to Baltimore again tomorrow night to see them before my plane flies out at 6:50 am the next day. I was really going to try, because I had some momentary illusion that I was badass and someone else was actually going to go, but I think it's best if I don't go away completely fried, because I'd like to be alert for a new coast. If I knew how to do the MP3 blog thing, I'd hook you up with "Ordinary" right now, because it's one of the best songs I've ever heard in my natural life and if you like pop music sung and played by cute men who actually have some talent, you may indeed like it too. Go to their link above and you can probably catch it on the site, or on their Awarestore page. I've had it on repeat for months, and I do know me a good pop song...Wouldn't steer you wrong, on purpose anyway. ANYWAY, our schedules are finally coinciding in a reasonable fashion so I can see them on August 11, and if I don't come back from the show you'll know they needed a merch manager or something like that, and the next time you see me I'll have the tattoo I've REALLY always wanted. : ).
watching - The clock. I never have enough time to get everything done that I need to get done lately and it's simultaneously pissing me off and making me want to drink the brown liquor.
surfing - blogher girls, so i can pick some faces out of the crowd, and getting progressively more freaked out that I'm not a "mommyblogger". I can't help it. They seem like a great group...I just don't know if I'll feel like I'm outside the sphere of relevance or not. I hope not.
needing - To stop having headaches...To get some stuff done. Must focus. Must focus. Why is it so hard these days?

picturing - The Pacific Ocean, for real.

ignoring - Some whacked out feelings, because I hate them. A few things that I REALLY need to get done. My voice mail.

As stolen from (and added to) c.

Artscape 06

It's Baltimore Artscape weekend again, and I'm helping my friend Shobha in her jewelry booth, as well as just hanging out and enjoying the scenery.

I love it. I love Baltimore in general, and watching the people, and seeing the crafts and hearing the music. It's so much fun. Today, it poured rain off and on for several hours, but it really didn't slow the traffic down too much. I had the chance to take several photos and that was good...I've been slacking in that area. Several photographers were exhibiting and selling their work for sort of ridiculous prices (although I know the price of paper and chemicals, plus travel and labor, so when it comes down to it, it's not so high...) It got me thinking again about whether or not I could actually swing the commerce side of photography, but I'm so. very. bad. at that part. I was looking at some huge landscape prints that were just beautiful, and I thought, "Wow, I have some stuff that I could make THIS GOOD if I just had the right prints and mats." I don't know how well these people do at these shows, or if it's worth the effort, but I did pick up several of their cards and I'm going to check out their sites and see what's up.

Meanwhile, Artscape is just a good time. I missed my baby daddy who played there last night, but I got over it. People are chill and fairly chatty, so it's easy to meet and talk to them. I did see one guy getting picked up by an ambulance by the DJ Culture stage (audience comprised primarily of lots of kids rolling and smoking pot...the music was good, of course.) I saw him on the sidewalk. The event emergency people were already there, and I thought he was dead at first, but by the time the ambulance got there his eyes were open and he was alert. Drugs, I'm sure...he reminded me of some people I'd seen before in similar situations...mostly long ago, and it made me sad. I'm so thankful I was spared from that because I'm sure I would have died. I never had an interest in drugs beyond smoking and thank GOD because I'm sure that crazy train would have ended very, very badly. I doubt I could have handled it as a young person, and I do get all maternal when I see these young people out in the crazy heat, pounding down alcohol and who knows what else...I know it's so alluring and they think they can handle it, and that they need it to have a good time, but the bottom line is that our bodies aren't designed to handle that kind of abuse, especially when it's so hot. Anyway, he made me sad, and I was standing on the curb, feeling like a freak voyeur watching an accident, but really I only wanted to know if he lived or died. The ambulance took forever to come. I wanted to call my uncle who's an EMT in Frederick and ask him how long it should take, because he's all over his cases. He moves in fast forward. And I felt kind of crazy standing there worrying about a stranger and how fast the initial emergency people were operating (which seemed slow to me...watching them, it was kind of like they were at a yard sale or a family picnic. No rush) but it occurred to me that if my kid (or me, because remember I don't have kids. Duh.) were on the sidewalk it would make me feel better if a nice stranger was keeping tabs, so that made me feel less freakish.

Shobha and I had a ton of time to talk - about life and work and boys and all that stuff that I really need to see people in person to talk about for real. She's one of my favorite people in the whole wide world, one of my oldest and best friends, and I'm so happy that we get to hang out, and sell her stuff, and catch up. 

BlogMe

I'm going to play along...twisted my arm! ; )

1. When did you start blogging and why? Or talk about your blog. What can I learn about you in under 5 minutes?

I started blogging last year...April 10, 2005. It's a dumb post, and so are the next few, actually, ("God bless the lord God bird"? What the hell??? This is why I live in fear of people judging me from one thing that I write or say) but I really didn't know what I was doing or thinking or saying at the time. I still don't, really, but I seem to have stuck with it long enough to catch a groove.

As far as why, eh...There were a couple of reasons. First, the acute cause: (God, I hope this doesn't sound too dramatic or ridiculous, but it really is the truth, which is sometimes dramatic and ridiculous. I'm a terrible self-editor; it's a wonder I ever get anything written) I had a bad year. My job was pretty harsh, and my living situation was about to change in a way that I really didn't want it to. I was in a long-term relationship that ended, with someone I talked to constantly who I'm pretty sure was usually actually interested...the stereotypical (although not at all, in fact) "best friend" that you're supposed to hook up with...sort of like Lucy and Ethel, except for I liked to kiss him a lot. ; ) The communication and "best friend" deals are good relationship traits in theory. I still highly recommend them, but I learned that if Ethel (or...Dirk. Or Max. Jack? I'm not thinking of a good manly name all of a sudden. Haha.) splits, THIS Lucy needs to have all personal means of creative expression and everyday interaction basically intact, and I hadn't paid too much attention to those for a variety of reasons. Therefore, I was unhappy. I felt boring and bored inside, as well as sad (cue cello...no violins, please) and if you know anything about me, it's that that is death. It kills me slowly and it will annoy the hell out of you, because I'll be miserable to be around and you won't want to be my friend anymore.

So I did a few things. I stepped away from Extreme Home Makeover long enough to get a Typepad account, and I started to post things in it. I hadn't written much for any reason for a while, except for reviews of freezers and only mildly interesting features about restaurants. Hence the CHRONIC reason for the blog: I needed a writing practice back, and somehow I got one. I didn't want to go to therapy and talk about stuff I already knew about from before. I didn't want to talk or even write that much specifically about my God-blessed FEELINGS, but I did want to talk and write. I found out that occasionally I was still funny, and that sometimes when I'm depressed or pissed off, I can be a riot, at least to myself. Regardless of who was reading, I got sort of a cheap thrill out of being able to slap stuff up on the web at a moment's notice. It was a concrete activity at a time when I needed some. The blog got me interested in my own photography again, so I started taking classes and learning how to do it better, and I just...kept going.

I am not a mommyblogger. I am not specifically a doggie blogger, although I do post pictures of my dog and love him like he's my kid, although I don't talk about him every day. I'm a multipurpose writer and whatever interests me is fair game. I focus a lot on pop culture because I think it's fascinating and funny. I write about music because it fuels me and language because it's my orientation. I'm often amazed by what seem to be very minute details to other people, and a 30-second interaction might get airtime because I think it's interesting, or mind-boggling, or whatever. I think too much, and therefore I write it down.

Apparenly in five minutes you can learn that I have no problem conceiving of a past boyfriend as a middle-aged white woman on a situation comedy, and this probably sums me up fairly well. The rest varies depending on the weather, my mood, and frankly, what kind of effect you have on me - but hopefully you'll catch me on a good day and learn that I'm fairly articulate (except for I swear a lot. I try not to, but fuck if I can help it. ; )) I care about most things a lot, and a few things a REALLY lot. I listen to a lot of music, and love traveling, excellent food, and cool people. That's it in a clam shell. (It's summer. Eat some seafood. ; ) )

2. How do you use blogging to build friendships?

Besides paying people to read my page and tell other people about it? No, really...My real-life friends laugh at some of the stuff I write, so they tell me. That makes me happy because I enjoy making people laugh, and because they suck up to me I buy them presents and consider making them beneficiaries on my life insurance. I've also connected with a few interesting people through this page, although nothing terribly deep as of yet. I've also come to appreciate several very cool women who also write online, who I don't consider friends because we don't know each other, but I wish we were. I read them on a regular basis and am constantly amazed at how many talented women (and the occasional guy, yes. ; ) ) have found outlets in this medium.

3. Who do you read every day, rain or shine?

I'm a dooce-head. Laina D. is someone I just discovered and need to read every day. I read the brilliantly funny Sarah Brown every day, who would totally be my friend if we met in real life (or so I like to think), even though she's way hipper than I am. I read Wendy's Pound site, because she's hilarious too, Tracey/Sweetney, and Maggie at MightyGirl, like the rest of the world. I read my friend Erin's livejournal without fail, and a few of my friends who have MySpace sites. I love Heather Champ Powazek's photography and links. Marit is funny, and is also a Boston Terrier person, which is an obvious draw. I like funny. I need funny. Life is too stressful sometimes and if you don't laugh, it becomes a daily eight-hour bath and you walk around all shriveled.   

4. (We're supposed to put a picture of a piece of ourselves here. I'll spare you my echocardiogram shots...)

Ummmm...Typepad will not currently allow me to insert a photo, but the one I was GOING to put here was a reflection of myself in a street-level window in Boston earlier this year. Here, I'll try to copy and paste it and see if it works:

Hmm. Seems to have worked, but it may show up as a red "x" in a box when I try to save. Anyway...carrying on...

Why did you choose to share that piece of yourself in a photograph?

That's my legs in a window in Cambridge, Massachusetts in April of this year. It was taken almost at the one-year anniversary of this site, and if there's anything to be said for the past year...and all of them, really, regardless of circumstance, it's that I keep on moving. Plus I like my stance in this shot. The motto for this year (besides, "Damn, how much was that plane ticket?") is "bring it" and that's what that stance suggests. At the time I took it I was also walking way far to pick up a light meter - longer than I have ever walked in a new city, or any city, for that matter, to pick up ANY sort of equipment, and I have to admit that I've been proud of my commitment to the photo stuff. So yeah, it kind of pulls a bunch of stuff together...which is what good photos do, regardless of the quality of the shot. I also leave the same photo at the top of this page all the time, even though it's not been adequately Photoshopped and my dog's crazy eye is still crazy, because I like my left eye, I love my dog, and I think this is a pretty typical expression for me. I'm Laurie Left Eye not-Lopes (may Lisa rest in peace. I loved TLC.)

5. How would you describe your writing style?

I don't know. How would you describe it? If you met me you'd probably say that I write like I talk - effusively, sarcastically, occasionally sentimental, often goofy, but very rarely without intent. Sometimes I write about serious things, and sometimes I want to talk about how much I dislike Shakira's new song (see below.) Depends. But my ultimate goal is not to sound like a total idiot, so if that's met then I'm doing okay, I guess.

6. If you could spend time with one person (other than your spouse, because really, let’s not rack up the suck up points here) who would it be?

I don't think I've met him or her yet, because honestly if I want to hang out with people I generally do, unless they don't want to and in that case, well, oh snap. It would be nice to see my Nanny again. I won't at all say John Cusack because his handlers are probably monitoring the net for stalkerish activity at this point and I AM NOT A STALKER! I swear! I don't even own a screwdriver!. ; ) (But since you mentioned it, I'll get disgustingly preachy for a minute and note that if you've got a spouse, you should likely want to spend time with them more than anyone - even IF you do the right thing and have lots of other friends and interests - because that's the person who never. goes. away. So you should be fine with it if they don't. This is what's guiding my choices in this endeavor anyway - abject terror of the alternative.)

7. What don’t you write about? Anything considered a no-no in your book?

I steer clear of anything I feel may embarrass anyone I know personally, or embarrass ME should they ever see it, because nothing is a secret when you splash it on the Internets. God, you wouldn't BELIEVE the people who have found me on here. ; ) I'm even pretty nice about public figures who should be beyond embarrassment. I don't name names very often and I think that's fair. I don't write about specifics of my friends and family members' lives, except for in pictures, which might be their least favorite, come to think of it, but I can't help that part. The only crushes you'll hear about are celebrities, because I'm not a total idiot. (Just a half of one.) I don't write about work specifics because although crazy and story-worthy stuff happens there ALL THE TIME, I like my job. Plus, my work involves the lives of other people, which, as interesting as that can be, is no one's business. A shame, I know.

8. How do you feel about meeting bloggers in real life? Are you nervous? Will you have great expectations? What do you home to take away from the BlogHer experience?

I'm generally not nervous about meeting anyone, in a non-dating situation (that's a whole 'nother pile of cupcakes right there.) And one thing I've learned at this point is that expectations are generally not useful. With the amount of time and effort that's gone into the planning of this shindig, and the relative She-Ra strength and talents that I've seen in the women involved, I'm quite sure it will knock my socks off. I'm hoping to meet some cool people, learn a lot, and have a great time. I've never been to California so I'm really looking forward to that also. Bring it on!

9. So soon we’re going to meet each other at BlogHer. Important question. How do you party?

With a glass of red wine (or maybe a margarita?), good music, good people, and a smile. That's all you need.

10. What is your favorite thing that you wrote? What got a strong reaction from readers? Links please?

My favorite quote that I quoted:

"My psychic powers are not for sale. And by that I mean they totally are for sale."

~Eric Cartman

I don't know that I have a favorite thing, although this is pretty funny to me still. This is too. My hit numbers are pretty good, so I know I have readers, I just don't get that many comments, so either people think I'm boring as hell, or...oh. Maybe I am! Oh. Oh well.

11. Have you written anything controversial? Is blogging controversial?

I don't think I've written anything terribly controversial, unless you consider the possibility that liberal politics are bound to offend someone every now and then. Anything can be controversial, and certainly blogging can be at times - or rather the opinions that are expressed and the ability of others to comment and agree or disagree. Just check out the comments on Junichi's Dixie Chicks blog. People write some mad shit on the Web in the name of freedom and patriotism, it seems. 

12. Are you and your blogging persona the same person?

I am unavoidably myself. Another blogging "persona" would make it fiction...entirely possible but not my thing.

13. Have you ever anonymously posted on a site to flame them? Nope. I hate the whole concept and psychology of flaming. If I want to argue with someone I'll do it live, and I don't get much out of that anymore either.

14. If you had a super power, what would it be?

I consider prodigious musical talent a super power, so right now I'd like to be able to play any instrument I wanted...but I guess unless it helps people it's not really a super power? In that case I'd like to be able to control the weather. I was watching a special last night about Bill and Melinda Gates and Bill Clinton in Africa, sobbing watching the kids and people in the clinics, so I'd like to bring them some rain, at least. Plus the tsunamis need to be bitchslapped, and of course the hurricanes too...That would actually be an interesting human interest comic book, I think. Timely, too. If I could draw I'd totally do it.

"My psychic powers are not for sale. And by that I mean they totally are for sale."

~Eric Cartman

House of Blues

HOB self-portrait
Originally uploaded by rubyshoes.

Testing the flickr blogging function. Don't mind me...and yes, I am one of those people. Whatever kind of person you think that might be. Rock on.

siesta time

It is quite possible to cry from sheer exhaustion and overextension. It is also quite possible to be very rational and not depressed or sad in the slightest at the same time. It's amusing to me that people still feel that I have explanations and solutions for a variety of things, but I totally don't. My work life consists mostly of providing both, so there's that, and then when I'm home, my mother needs a bunch of stuff currently so she says my name like a hundred times an hour. She can't help it - not her fault - but it's getting out of control. "Laurielaurielauriewhereiswhatdoyoulauriewhy

lauriewhodidlaurieLAURIEfreakingLAURIEEEEE". I'm not like a huge fan of my name anyway (it's not a diva name. I embrace my inner Angelina, therefore.) but by this point I want to go into the witness protection program. I am so mentally tired. It's an uncomfortable feeling, and today it's making me hungry. Shocker. Someone just brought me a Subway sub with none of the stuff on it that I wanted, and that's probably what I'm most bothered by at this moment, so that's a blessing. Oh, and I have an itch on my leg that won't quit. ; )

That said, I'm not a prude, but I think this is kind of sick. X-rated material involving Wendy from Peter Pan, Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz and Alice in Wonderland just strikes me as wrong on, a...well, literary level (that sounded stupid but I'm tired and I don't want to overthink it.) I'm not down with prosecuting anyone for it at all, or even censoring, for that matter, so this is just my opinion. My main issue is...why can't you make up your own characters and have them get naked together, yo? Make something new, and leave the old stuff alone. Are you Barrie, Baum or Carroll? No. And perhaps I am old-fashioned in that I do believe in the sanctity of some characters, of some icons, of some things that existed before everything became about making little girls into sex icons. Exaggeration? Have you looked at the magazine racks or the tv screen lately? Like I said, I'm no censorship-loving freak, but I do think that as time goes on we get less creative as a society, more driven by the visual quick fix, if you will. Fan fiction strikes me as kind of odd, too, but I get no thrill from envisioning Harry Potter characters in compromising positions together, so maybe that's just me. I guess it's easier, in that the character development is done already, so all you have to do is write different dialogue in the same voices and make Hermione and one of those jackass Hufflepuffs have sex instead of try to decode the secret map to Gobbledygook Island and save Harry from Lord Voldemort. (Please note that I love these books. I am not a Harry Hater. And also please, if there's some glut of quality fan fiction that involves clothed children's literature characters out there, please don't send me angry e-mails with links to it. I have enough stuff to waste my time on as it is, so please don't help me along in that endeavor, kay? Thanks.)

And on a similar, but not the same, note, could the Post please get its act together? These are important stories, and shouldn't be fodder for newsroom humor. Save that for Style.