July 08, 2006
so that cute puppy we took in is still cute, bigger, doing better, happy, and the only odd thing so far is her proclivity to eat light bulbs, no matter how far out of reach we store them.
they are now stored way way out of the way because yesterday george called me on the cell to tell me that Sophie was eating glass again, and that he heard glass break downstairs, and that when he ran down to see what happened, Sophie was standing there with the metal piece of the light bulb sticking out of her mouth, the bulb smashed and the filament sticking out. She had made quick work of three other lightbulbs too. What a mess. And she was none to happy to hand over her crunch toy, although apparently, after giving her a big bowl of food to hopefully guide any glass shards out of her system, he sent her out to play with Bando.
How she managed not to slice her tongue, I don't know. This is her second round with light bulbs. I guess we'll know in a day or two if it will be her last.
It's been hard to blog lately. Let's just say life is either passing so quickly I can't capture what I want to write about before it's gone. And, the other part, whole days go by without inspiration. I don't like that. Usually I can find meaning somewhere, but so many things are so big that even 'new media' can't contain them. The small things, the noticing of beauty or heartbreak, those things don't seem to fit here either these days.
So what does that leave me? With a quick observation here. A fast hello there. A youtube or kaneva video clip here. A flickr or bubbleshare photo there. And for more experimentation, I've got my newest photo-tag funland, StyleFeeder over there on the sidebar.
I blog with Qumana, and thank goodness I do, because with the effort it takes for me to form my thoughts these days, I wouldn't be blogging without Qumana. It saves me five steps per post, and those five steps are daunting enough in my tiresome state that they are the differene between writing online and not. Thanks again, Q.
How to talk about this stuf? Why? How much do you want to hear? Are you still there? Who are you? Why do we do this? What do you care about? What would you die for? How do we stay alive here? Meg didn't make it. I have more questions than answers lately.
Blogging is too many answers and not enough questions.
The air doesn't stay quiet long enough for questions to surface.
We make meaning from one another's questions.
I need to shut up more so that I can hear the quiet voices.
I need to quiet my own voice again.
I don't always have something to say.
July 06, 2006
July 04, 2006
Happy independence from cigarettes day to me. Holy shit, two years? It feels like just yesterday. LITERALLY.
I think I've graduated from one minute at a time to one week at a time. That's somethin'. ;-) Thank you for all of the encouragement. Knowing I'd have to face you and spill the beans has kept me from picking up a cigarette on dozens of occasions. Who needs the patch when you have an entire blogosphere on your ass?
Shelley is back with a new home, or, well, quite a few of them, and some great spanking new posts and thoughts, plus a really cool--oooooo i'm so excited I can't stand it. WEEE!
What we lost with Shelley's silence was one of the most balls-to-the-wall honest voices online. I like the "Just Shelley" title of her blog because of the double entendre -- it's just shelley, and shelley is passionate about justice. Equality, the overlooked cause or perspective, visibility for those whose voice's haven't made it past the decibel level of the MOST noisy online--these are topics that have drawn me to Shelley's writing since Al Gore invented the internets.
But I've always wondered: How does she do it? How does she craft such eloquent posts on such difficult topics and at the same time churn out books and some of the most stunning photography I've ever seen? In this, her inaugural post, as Just Shelley, Shelley tells all--including what really went on behind closed doors at burningbird.net:
Curabitur vitae ante et orci tristique facilisis. Duis condimentum malesuada nibh. Nunc felis ipsum, semper ut, hendrerit ac, blandit sit amet, lectus. Duis fermentum pharetra enim. Duis pellentesque metus id ante.
YES! I knew it!
Alright, so maybe she doesn't tell everything. The truth is that Shelley is a multi-faceted woman, which you should know by now, and I'm glad to hear she is going to be posting whatever she calls her online essays (shh, don't tell her she's blogging), and bring more of her photography online too.
Back to photos. Eventually, most of them, as well as my ’softer’ writing—stories, reflections, and so on—will go on to The Book of Colors site I’ve longed to put together. First, though, I have to figure out a format for the site, and how best to display both photos and stores. This has not been easy, as I’m having the devil of a time with site design. I’m tired of the same old looks, the centered pages, the conservative colors.
As if you can’t tell with my cockeyed, off-center look and sharp, pure colors. I must warn you, I’m in a mood for color. Bold vivid color. Odd shapes. Contrast. Rule breaking. It may get a little intense at times. Maybe even a little disconcerting. Perhaps I’ll design a special set of ‘rain mist’ glasses for my good friends to wear when viewing the sites.
Oh, I'm ready. HELL YES, I'm ready.
July 03, 2006
"My parents never drove me to soccer practice. This was mostly because we never had heard of soccer. I had a bicycle that weighed probably 50 pounds, and only had one speed, (slow). We didn’t have a television in our house until I was 11, but my grandparents had one before that. It was, of course, black and white, but they bought a piece of colored plastic to cover the screen. The top third was blue, like the sky, and the bottom third was green, like grass. The middle third was red. It was perfect for programs that had scenes of fire trucks riding across someone’s lawn on a sunny day. Some people had a lens taped to the front of the TV to make the picture look larger."
Great post by Doug on what it was like growing up before modern technology solved all of our problems. ;-)
July 02, 2006
But if you asked me, I would always tell you, there are two things I don't get that other people do: backaches and headaches.
Today I can still claim headaches, but my back is HISTORY.
I know exactly when my future changed. We had a little child visiting, a four year old, who borrowed one of my hand-weights, which, admittedly, I rarely use, and she walked around the house with it, depositing it unbeknownst to me on the bathroom floor, where, sometime later after I had showered the child with love and she had departed for the day, my foot FOUND the weight, and I stumbled over it at such an odd angle as not to be believed.
May I remind all of us that sometimes it's better to fall?
Instead I caught myself half way down, wrenching my lower back but saving my kneecap. The next week, my 72-pound eight-year-old child decided to jump into my arms one last time--I say one last time because that was the moment I said: okay my back is now finished.
Is this how it's going to be?
NO WONDER people doctor shop for Vic*o*din prescriptions. Holy shit--this back stuff HURTS. If the good lord inspired some scientist to make a pain-eliminating opiate, well then what's the big fuss? Screw addiction and hand some over, because four ibuprofen ain't cutting it anymore.
Okay sure there are other means to relief. Yes, I know, I need to shed poundage. Yes I know it takes time for the back to heal. But I've also faced the music: whatever I did is not even thinking about going back into place.
My back lower back is my new weak spot. My shoulder was so used to that role. In comparison, it feels great. I've even been throwing a perfect spiral again during pool football.
30-somethings, when you hear 40-somethings tell you that one day after 40--it may be 41 or it may be 47--you wake up and everything hurts, believe them.
Except my head.
Knock on wood. But not too hard. I might hurt my hand.