wtf

WTF? WTF
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.

I walked in and thought, What the f*ck? White trash fighting.

The girl getting flipped is part of a female roller derby. The girl in the low-rise jeans is her sister. Yes, there was girl-girl fighting. No, I'm not posting those photos.

These girls are friends of a friend of a friend, and that's too close for me. I'd rather have at least six degrees of separation with these two.

hehehe

Attack of the Chocolate Bugs
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.

I love my roommate. She makes me laugh. And I hope she doesn't kill me for posting this photo.

one of the matts

An old high school friend just sent me an e-mail. A hi-how-have-you-been after more than two years. There are these phases in my life when certain guys hold similarities with each other. This guy was in the Matt Phase. (Who can guess the similarity he shared with the other guys in the phase? Hmm. Anyone?) And to distinguish him from the other guys in his grouping, he was High School Matt. (Ah, I see the light of recognition dawning on some of your faces.)

Nothing deep to reveal here. Just an unexpected link to the past for me today. A link that had me writing a general sum of the last two years of my life. How does one sum up such an expanse of time? What level of detail does one include? It's must be more specific than an obituary but more general than a diary entry. And this is assuming that I remember all of the key points in my life. I don't. Maybe I should have just provided a link to this blog.

Anyway, I provided a probably overly long response, to which he supplied an equally long missive. Brevity was never a strong suit for either of us. (I can be succinct in my editing and writing, but it’s a challenge made harder the closer the material is to home. All that means is I can be brief about the weather forecast or the latest news bite, but ask me about my newest shoe purchase, and I’ll provide a novel.) In this case, I’m glad he was equally lacking in brevity.

welcome summer

Spring St.
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.

Today's the second day of summer. Sigh. Here comes the heat. Good-bye to the few nice spring days that we had.

Here are a few Googlisms on spring. My thanks to lizalou42 for the link (googlisms.com).

spring is sprung
spring is here
spring is late
spring is back
spring is springing earlier
spring is coming
spring is busting out
spring is sure to come
(People are so demanding of Spring)
spring is in the air (I can fly!)
spring is in the air whether he's pausing for an outdoor lunch or enjoying a bounce (I'm male? I can bounce? Am I Tigger?)
spring is like summer (Spring is often called Summer)
spring is colorful and sexy at the house of versace (Now this is more like it)
spring is bright for klein (I'd like to think I bright in general. I always did well in school)
spring is the period express from god (Sounds important. Am I happy about being the period express from god?)
spring is poem
spring is 100% minority owned source for wire forms (Who knew I was 100% minority owned? And what do wire forms want with me?)
spring is worth a mint (That's a gold mint, right?)
spring is eternal (Now, this is more like it.)
spring is the morning bird song (Comments like these are what puts Spring in the air.)
spring is friggin' awesome (Duh! Everyone knows this!)
spring is unwinding all around us (OK, I am a bit crazy at times.)
spring is (Yep, I think that wraps this up nicely.)

Oh, about the photo: I took this shot on the NYC subway on the last day of our trip.

news bite

GRAPEFRUIT MAY MAKE WOMEN SEEM YOUNGER: A study of smells shows that the scent of grapefruit on women make them seem younger to men--about six years younger. The study by the Smell and Taste Institute in Chicago was conducted to determine what makes a women smell young. (Source: Associate Press)
COMMENTS: My favorite perfumes contain grapefruit. I wonder if this is my problem with men. They all think I'm too young for them!

don't buy analog

We're a TV-obsessed society. And, with my new editing job, I'm getting an inside look at what it takes to get what you see to your TV screen.

All I can say is don't buy an analog TV. Sure they're cheap. I know digital TVs are expensive. The prices should start to come down once Congress has set a firm stop date on analog signals. Right now it looks like it will be the end of 2008. After that you'll need a converter to use your analog TVs. The government is considering proposals to subsidize these converters for the poor.

Manufactures are saying they can make low-cost converters for $40 to $100 a pop. That's not very low cost in my book. What can I get for $19.95?

Why the switch? The government wants those frequencies back. At least 24MHz worth are earmarked for public safety officials. It has something to do with fighting terrorism and first responders.

Anyway, I'm not going to buy a new TV until this whole thing is sorted out. Then again, I'll have little reason to want a new TV as long as I have my roomie. She has a nice big, albeit analog, TV. I love her for more than her TV. She's quite a cook, too. ;)

nightmare on waffle street

Last night I dreamt that my roomie ate the last Eggo waffle. Ordinarily that wouldn’t be such a big deal, but that waffle was the only food item left in our kitchen.

This morning, I woke, shuffled down the hallway, and opened the freezer door. There sat the lone food item, my breakfast, my Eggo waffle.

Thanks to my roomie for not eating it. It was yummy. And I guess a trip to the grocery store is in order this afternoon.

my side, your side

I’m sick of religion today. Then, again, I’m sick of religion most days.

Sick of the fighting.
Sick of the prejudice.
Sick of the hell and damnation.
Sick of the self-righteousness.

We humans are so controlling. We want to define what is and what isn’t. We want to put limits on ourselves and limits on our gods. The more we confine ourselves, the more we box ourselves in, the safer we feel. But entrapment doesn’t bring a person closer to the divine, just closer to suffocation.

regular schedules

You know how women who live in close quarters often develop the same menstrual cycle? Well I'm wondering if there's such a thing as a pee cycle. There are two women on this floor who seem to have the need to urinate at nearly the same times as I do. It's very weird. Maybe I should cut back on my water intake.

flowering thoughts

Flower1
Originally uploaded by countingpigs.

I've been trying to post to countingpig's blog for days, but there seems to be some problem. So I decided to post one of her beautiful photos and use my blog as a forum to reply.

1. We miss you too!
2. Try not to read the synopsis for Lost. It the show is good, but waiting for all of the bits of the plot to emerge might just drive you crazy.
3. It was so good to see you.
4. This photo's really beautiful.
5. Miss you. Love you. Wishing you well.

bland blogs

So someone mentioned to me that my blog’s become a bit more boring since I don’t have my old job to rant about. And it’s true. The blog is blander. My life is blander. Well, it was bland, but this last week or so has stirred things up again.

I had actually been sleeping well since I started my new job. Mystery of mysteries, when I’d lie down in bed, I’d fall asleep within a half hour--consistently. But this past week, I’ve fallen back into the old ways--staying awake for an hour or more, waking up very late, and carrying my tiredness through the day with me.

What had changed? Two things.

First, this newsletter I’ve been working on. It’s one I’ve picked up from an ex-co-worker. I had major program problems switching the files over to my laptop. I thought I wasn’t going to be able to do the newsletter at all at one point. Luckily it worked out to an at least manageable end--I thought--until I was told someone had forgotten that an extra half-page ad needed to run. So I redesigned the whole thing last night. Stress. I haven’t really had that since I left my old job. Stress keeps me from sleeping.

Second, I’ve been on ex-co-worker overload. Last Friday, you’ll remember that I met up with a whole slew of my former co-workers, including my ex-boss. That brought back the flood of memories. A flood of regrets. Yes, I’m happy at my new job, but I’m still sad about what I left and how I had to leave it.

Then out for our usual drinks on Tuesday (which is an ex-co-worker event), one of my former managing editors found out that my ex-boss and I had “communication issues.” She hadn’t known. I preferred it that way, I guess. I feel like I’ve hurt things enough there; I don’t want to further pollute the relationships that must continue there. Then, I started thinking about what she, and the others who don’t know the true reason, must think of why I left. Do they think me restless, undedicated, or simply desiring more before I deserved it? Many in that office, especially the old timers, strongly believe that if you stick at your job and do it well you will be recognized when recognition is due. They’re about dedication and faithfulness. Odd thoughts, I know, but those were the thoughts I had.

So, I’m off to lunch with more former co-workers today. I’ll probably have a movie night with another on Friday. I’ll see another group for lunch next week. There’s always Tuesday drinks. And then there’s Book Club and Dinner Club at the end of the month.

Maybe I should stop. Maybe, if seeing them brings back all these stresses, I shouldn’t see my ex-co-workers. But take away them and the newsletter and I’m left with blandness. Nice blandness. Pleasant blandness. Content blandness. But not much to write about. Besides, they're not just my ex-co-workers; they're my friends--well most of them.

Maybe that’s the point. I’ve been so busy living in the stresses of life, in my ups and downs, that I haven’t learned how to shape my own interests. Now that I don’t live for my job, I can find my passion. My passion was my work. Now I have the opportunity to find passion outside of work. I have the mental and emotional resources to dedicate to it—whatever it may be. I just have to figure out what that is.

where's stephen chow?

Recyclables?
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.

To bad this woman doesn't know the Shaolin way to carry garbage...

reason no. 53 to keep my job

Summer hours: Last Friday I got off work at 1 p.m. without having to work extra during the week. And I'll get five more Fridays like that this summer.

group error

So I joined this group on Flickr called New York tourist's collections. It's a fine place for all my recent New York pictures.

Why I almost didn't join: The apostrophe in the group's name is out of place. Tourist's is singular possessive. Collections is plural, requiring tourists plural. More appropriate names would be: New York tourist photo collections or New York tourists' photos.

I'm contemplating mentioning this gaffe to the group administrator. Or am I just being an editing freak?

talking with my ex-boss

And during this party, I had a near-pleasant conversation with my ex-boss. In the beginning, it was obvious she had little to say to me. But later, with a few drinks in her and Replacement (whom I’d already befriended) nearby, I asked her about the magazine launch (her current obsession) and commented on how much her daughter had grown. This provided the three of us with ample, light conversation. Replacement would have had a hard time guessing a problem ever existed between her new boss and me.

I hope that with continued pleasant conversation, perhaps this burned bridge may slowly be mended to the point I could use it (though be it a tightrope) if I ever needed it.

a family reunion

The goodbye party knocked me a bit off kilter. I walked into the bar and was surrounded by my ex-co-workers. Yes, I still see some of them from time to time. But at this party were also those that I don’t see—the long-timers who mentored me as well as co-workers who’d quit or were let go.

It was like a big family reunion that makes a person feel happy and sad at the same time. I got the feeling of home, while knowing that home isn’t really there anymore.

my replacement

So, I met my replacement on Friday. From former co-workers, I’d heard that she was nice, tended to be quiet, and seemed like another version of the editor and managing editor. (That last fact has the associate editor worried. She and I are not the quiet type. I didn’t end up fitting in with my editor. She fears a similar fate. I, though, believe my case was a unique one and she needn’t worry.)

So how did I meet Replacement? Well two of my ex-co-workers quit their jobs last week (GO TEAM!), and we all met up at a bar after work on Friday to say goodbye/celebrate/muorn.

I made a point of sitting down with Replacement and getting to know her. She is indeed sweet and soft spoken. And she is, as I was, in love with the office. Replacement was surprised I had left. I smiled my reply, dancing around the office politics of the true reason I’d made a change. She needn’t know all of the mess.

I explained my departure like this: This place was like my home. I was raised in this office. I began here as an intern. And after four years of nurturing, I found it was time to leave my co-workers—my parents and siblings—and spread my wings.

So, I like her, I approve. Replacement will fit in well on the staff. She told me I couldn’t have my old job back; she liked it too much. I didn’t have the heart to tell Replacement that I, of course, didn’t want the job back. I felt a little ache, remembering that love of work that I once held.

asleep or awake?

I was asleep but my alarm began going off at 6:50 a.m.
I was awake but hit the snooze once, twice, three times.
I was asleep but I would be late if I didn't get out of bed before the fourth alarm.
I was awake but I lay down on the couch while I watched the weather forecast.

Forecast: rain, and not cheerful spring rain, but dreary stormy rain.

I wanted to wear my pjs to work. I wanted to not go to work.
I comforted myself with the fact that today was my first Friday with summer hours and I finish work by 1 p.m.
I still wanted to go back to bed.

Sitting at my desk, my mind drifts, as obvious by this post.
Sitting at my desk, my eyelids feel full of lead pulling them down, down.
Sitting at my desk, I confuse my manuscripts, wait, what was I working on?
Sitting at my desk, I think of going home, going to my bed, going to sleep.

If I get to leave work at 1 p.m., do I still get a lunch break? And if I leave for lunch at noon, would I have to come back at 1 p.m. just to leave again?

photo enjoyment

contemplation
Originally uploaded by phitar.

One of my favorite photographers on Flickr is phitar. Check out his set of photos of his beautiful daughter, Isoline.

for lizalou42

Bored, I clicked on the "NEXT BLOG" link in the upper righ-hand corner of this page. Lizalou42, this is what I found. I thought you'd enjoy it. Beware: The music starts automatically.

sorry no stories

Everyone’s asking me how my vacation was. How was Branson? How was New York? What did you do? And I find I have little desire for detail.

My attempts to describe seem empty. So here's the shell of my vacation:

We stayed at the Welk Resort, you know, Lawrence Welk?

We saw the sunset from the shore of Table Rock Lake.

We rode the ducks. They have tours of Branson on DUKW amphibious vehicles that take you on land and then the water of Table Rock Lake.

We went to Celebration City, it’s like a mini Worlds of Fun. There was an overly patriotic show at the end that combined fire, fireworks, images projected on a wall of water.

I got a call from my roomie that made me sad and want to return home.

Silver Dollar City hasn’t changed except for maybe a few more rides.
As we were leaving the park, I saw a lesbian couple. My first thought: Huh? What are they doing here? And I wondered if they felt out of place, marked as different, unwanted in this, the heart of moral Christian thinking. I thought they had a lot of courage, but if it were I, I’d find a different place to spend my vacation.

We went through two caves.

We drove home past trees, farms, cows, and horses.

We went to New York City.

We stayed at the Chelsea International Hostel on 20th St. between 7th Ave. and 8th Ave. It was small, sparse, clean for a hostel, in the heart of lower Manhattan, and cheap for New York.

Nancy’s cousin took us to the new Chinatown growing out in Queens for dinner.

Nancy and BK took a 2 a.m. bus to spend the day in Washington, D.C.

The G-man and I went the Met, walked through Central Park, took and double-decker open-topped bus tour of lower Manhattan, and saw Avenue Q. We both loved the show. I knew I would, but I was glad I hadn’t wasted the G-man’s money.

We tried to see the Statue of Liberty, but couldn’t. The Ellis Island museum was good, informative, and long. We got very hungry. We ate at a Japanese noodle restaurant near Broadway. We all went to see La Cage aux Folles, a revival of the musical that the movie The Birdcage was based off of. The chorus line (men in drag, of course) was fabulous. We sat in the sixth row off to the left.

Gilbert said he was beginning to develop an expensive habit. That makes me happy. Now maybe I’ll have someone to go see a show or two with me when they come through Kansas City.

We ate sushi. We walked through Greenwich Village at night when it’s at its liveliest.

We toured the U.N. We waited in the most horribly long line at the Empire State Building. We ate Indian food at a microscopic little restaurant in Greenwich.

We ate dim sum in Chiantown in a huge ballroom-sized restaurant. The host and hostesses had walkie-talkies to communicate across the loud, busy restaurant.

The G-man and I left for the airport. I left Nancy, and for that I truly have no words.