In which it is 7 degrees hotter than the forecasted high


truthiness


 

It's been a shitty 11 months…though there were some giddy moments in the beginning.  In those early days I stretched my severance and maintained my optimism.  It was summertime, I hadn't appreciated the warm months quite so much since I was a kid.  I adventured, I cooked, I spent lots of time with family and friends, I lost weight, I woke up well-rested, in short, I know I glowed.  I interviewed and sent my resume out, I took a promising freelance position that looked like it was going to turn into a full-time gig in the Fall.  Then, it seemed my lights went out.
 

It was a slow burn really, one devastation after another.  At the height of those “good” Summer weeks, my Uncle died.  He was sick for a long time, but young – it was horrible, awful, and as it always is – way too soon.  I had the tearful goodbye where told him I loved him and how much he meant to me, it has been no consolation.  I read his eulogy at his funeral.  I still miss him and mourn large parts of my life, “the way things were,” that died with him.  Maybe it was a delayed reaction of sorts, but suddenly I found myself not only grieving for my Uncle, but my Grandfather, my Grandmother and to make it slightly more complicated, it reignited a quest to find out more about the blood ancestry of my Mother
 

Bills started stacking up, I didn't make my goal of being employed by October.  I was uninsured, living by the skin of my teeth, scared and ashamed.  I felt as though I was chipping away at my soul with each interview I went on, pored over my thank you and follow-up emails and calls, then would get a nice note of let down or no response at all.  I still feel burned by the request I had to put together a “thoughtful analysis of my interviews” with one company, which I spent hours on and involved my Mom in helping me draft….and didn't even get a one word response.  A simple “Thanks” would have been appropriate, or so says me.  I'd aced the interview, or so I thought.  But, thems the breaks when you're on the other side of the desk, a place that grows colder with every day you're out of work.  There was also that interview with Miserable McMisery, as I'll forever remember her, where I stumbled and let Ms. ScowlyPants turn me into a mess of unhire-able babble.  It was humiliating to crash and burn in an interview and I did so more than once.  And that freelance position I worked at for some of the darkest months didn't pan out, I just think of that time as awkward and regrettable (and my clothes got tight and uncomfortable).  The bulk of the past 6 months or so are a blur of mostly despair, though I'll never forget some generous acts of kindness and joy (If I saw you or spoke to you in the past 11 months, you know who you are – I'm not risking leaving anyone out by listing you all, I just hope I thanked you appropriately).  It's been a seesaw, a mostly lonely plank, there were awesome moments where I felt I could touch the sky, but a lot of the time I was sitting on the ground.  Rinse, repeat.
 

I started and committed to many projects I never finished.  In those early energetic stages of what my fellow benefit claimers tend to call (fun)employment, my imagination was fertile.  The short list of my failures starts like this:

I'm not saying I would have won the contest, but I had some damned great ideas (if I do say so myself).  Along with @theambershow, we hand cut zillions (gross exaggeration) of snow flakes to be used as business cards.  I dreamed up a campaign with @semipermgirl to shoot video on the East River in a kayak and otherwise really lobby to go to Antarctica this year….then reality jumped in and…I bailed. It didn't help that I secured an interview with a top Antarctic scientist the week of my Uncle's death and then made a bit of an ass of myself on the phone when I called him to postpone it.

This project proved "failure to launch" long before last June, but I figured…with all the time in the world, I could finally get to it.  I didn't, and in the meantime, so many blogs and services are realizing my little hatchling of an idea far better than I could have executed on.

Yet another bloggy-type project that never materialized past hours of collaborative brainstorming with @semipermgirl.  I still think it's a fun idea, maybe one of these days I'll get to it.
 

  • For my birthday this year I bought 7 strings of Tibetan prayer flags.  It was a start.  The plan was to string my ceiling with so many prayer flags that I wouldn't see the water stains and pipes that are currently my view from bed.  Also, I had a lot of prayers, what better way to realize them then to set them free, on the wind.  I chose an auspicious day, I discussed borrowing a ladder from my landlord.  At the time I didn't know she was dying of cancer, but yeah….I never got a ladder.  I even tried wearing my highest heals standing on the step stool she lent to me.  It was a total fail, thankfully I didn't break my neck, my birthday sucked and I lost faith.  Currently I have 2.5 strings hung successfully.  One end has fallen….and then my landlord died…and well, yep, it just kept getting rougher. 

SXSW would have been an amazing trip, really an excuse to see many friends I don't get to see everyday, but I didn't rally, my heart was never in it and I chose to pursue employment…for me, because that was the order of the day(s).

I miss podcasting, and my last period of wretched darkness was very much my entree into well, probably meeting everyone who might read this post.  It had been years since @wankergirl and I started the first realization of what I was planning re-launch.

I did a lot of craft-type stuff to pass the time.  I thought why not try to make some cash on the side and just never found the energy to spread the word or finish setting up my store.  Go figure. 

 

The list of personal disappointments goes on and on, I know better, there's no need to dwell on the many things I wish i done differently.  11 months, and so much of it I can only chalk up to idle and wasted time.  I remember when I first lost my job having a conversation with someone who'd just gone back to work after a long stretch of unemployment.  She asked if I'd had days yet where I didn't see a point to get out of bed; I shook my head and I felt bad for her.  I never imagined it could get that bad, but I started to relate.

 

The world keeps turning…and thankfully I think I (mostly) managed to not completely fall apart.  I am once again employed, but I still don't feel like it's real.  I have the constant feeling someone might pop through my office wall and yell that I've been Punk'd or perhaps I'll sink, and that 90 day provisional review might not go in my favor.  I'm working, OMG, I'm WORKING!  Finally!  I don't talk about work here and I'm not going to start, but I am very excited by the work I'm doing and who I'm doing it with/for.  I'm still dusting myself off and looking at these dormant projects and beginning to own up to a (long) list of broken promises, I can really only say "I'm sorry" "I'll do better next time.".  Life isn't tidy, and I realize I tend to post when I can wrap up a story with something meaningful or tied with a bow and a hug and kiss.  There is no sugar-coating the past year, it mostly sucked.



new beginnings


On the ferry to the Statue of Liberty with @usermac

I was excited to meet @usermac when he mentioned he'd be passing through my fair city.  Brian was in NY to pick up his fiancé and her daughter from the airport  for their first visit to the U.S. from China.  For their first full day in the country, Brian planned a symbolic "Welcome Home" by way of a trip to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island.  A sucker for sentimental gestures and adventures with out of town guests, I was pretty psyched to join them.

 

 

Having met so many great folks on twitter and elsewhere online, I love the opportunity to see New York City through the eyes of a visitor.  This was a truly cultural exchange, I've never helped someone pick out their first "American" meal before.  How do you explain french fries, chicken tenders or even a muffin in a way which sounds remotely appetizing?  The salad was not warm, which was apparently unexpected, the dressing too sweet – we laughed, we shared food, stories and awe, and of course we hammed it up for photos.  I always thought Asians were flashing the peace sign in photos, I learned the bunny-ear-finger-formation is actually a "V", for Victory.  It was a gorgeous morning, both in the sense of the weather and the overall experience.  Never far from my mind was my own virtual sojourn of tracing my ancestor's (by proxy) trip through Ellis Island, generations before.

 

As long as I've know Brian online,  he's been in love.  I'll say it now, my jaded self discounted the distance and obstacles as impossible, or not likely, in the context of my own failed long distance relationships….but here she was, here they were….starting their life together, and it was a truly epic day,  a beginning, and one I was honored to be a part of.  There was so much more to see, or so I thought from my tour-guide state of mind, but they had adventures yet to be revealed in Washington DC, and a life to begin together in Kentucky.  They started their American journey in NYC, at a place where so many before them started theirs, a small detail not lost on this humble local.

 

 

 

 



three branches


My Mother was shocked when I told her I always feared falling in love with a blood relative.  When you grow up knowing little about your ancestry, you find yourself questioning the the big things like, where do I come from, but there a lot of other little details your heart and mind grasp at.

 

I grew up having a relationship with my Mother's birth-Mother's family, as well as her/my family who raised her.  My family tree had three branches, despite the taboos my Mother and her family had to relive as I acknowledged that third branch a generation later.  “You will always be my Grandparents” I assured my Grandmother and Grandfather, “I'm just lucky, I have a whole other family too”.  It came up in school assignments and every time someone asked “What are you”?, which came up a lot where  I lived in Long Island.  “I am Italian-by-proxy,” I'd  answer; the short explanation was always very clumsy and it's a bit like when someone asks you how you are, they only want to hear “Good/Great/Fine/Awesome”.

 

I grew up in the same town as my Mother, along with her 8 siblings.  Many of my Grammar school teachers also taught my Mom, I even attended high school concurrently with one of my Uncles.  I don't specify, when I talk about my family, who is a blood-relative, because for most of my childhood I didn't really know the difference and those designations have little value to me.  My Grandfather once told me I looked a lot like my Mother's birth-mother.  My Grandparent's met her shortly before she passed;  he recalled her hair was auburn and curly like mine, and like me, she was also vertically challenged.  Not a lot to imagine, but those details stuck with me.

 

As I have learned more about my maternal family, and only recently really saw the first clear photo of my Mother's birth-Mother, it's shocking to take in those still images.  “So…that's where your dimples come and  from” and “her eyes sparkle like yours.” said my Mom as we looked at the photos.  She was 24 when she died.  I am 31 now, my Mother is 52.  One can't help but do the math; there is a sorrow and tenderness to think about her, I love the two Grandmothers I've known, and she is also my Grandmother, even though I never got to hug her or hear her voice.

 

My Maternal GrandmotherMy Maternal Grandmother

 

I wouldn't change a thing about my family, but to die so young of skin cancer seems patently absurd and just a more than a little unfair…if only it hadn't been the 50's, if only chemotherapy was what it was today… but then I wouldn't have that third branch on my family tree, I wouldn't be Italian-by-proxy,  I wouldn't have the family I do…but, I might have known her.  My Mother and her Brother might have grown up with their birth-parents, but a lot of “what ifs” never do a person much good.

 

I've always looked to my Father's family for personal resemblance.  After my Father's Mother, my beloved Grandmother passed away, a box of photos fell into my possession.  I found one of a Great-Aunt where I saw the first most obvious personal resemblance.  I knew I had my Dad's family's stature and build.  His family's gene-pool is strong and family reunions are almost eerie in the way I always see my Father in his Uncles and my Brother's face in his Second Cousins, my Aunt in my Grandmother, but maybe because I've only had one side to look to, I look so closely.

 

 

And what of my Mother's birth father?  Well, less and less of that story remains a mystery.  I may never know how a man could leave his dying wife and his children, but I  have found the names of his second and third wife and of their kids.  Many of the stories they told us about my birth-Grandfather turned out to be fiction.  I believed his ancestry was Native American until this year, even dressing the part in Girl Scouts, celebrating what turned to be a fictional heritage.  It's hard not to fantasize the less than savory bits might also not be true.  We may never know, but I choose to believe the truth always lies somewhere in between.

 

Family is not something I've ever felt I've missed out on, and so because of that, I don't initiate getting in touch with long-lost relatives, I'm not searching for family so much as part of my history.  I don't feel as though I've ever gone without a smidgen of love or family, but I've always wanted to know, with some certainty where I “come from”.  I started to ask  questions when I was around 12 years old which I later found out was around the same age my Mother was when she started to ask her own Mom, only she found out her birth-Parents were long gone and not her Grandparents, as in my case.  I am always just a bit overwhelmed when I think of how if it affects me as it does, how it must have been for my Mom growing up.

 

Family is complicated.  I admire my Mother for her gratitude for all that she has, but I know it has not been easy, she is a hero in every sense of the word.  In entering the labyrinth of researching one's ancestry, you can find out paper facts, but facts alone don't fill in the blanks or subtleties of lives lived.  I realize because of the gaps I've always felt needed filling, I probably dig harder than most might, but I do it for my Mom, and for her Mom and all the ancestors who's faces I never got to kiss and who's stories I've never had a chance to learn.



Amber’s Sing-A-Long


I'll be the first to admit, I was pretty intimidated by the call @theambershow put out for friends and strangers to join her in a public sing-a-long.  I don't sing in the shower, I try not to even expose my cat to my lack of harmonic stylings, but Amber is a dear friend and her Life List and enthusiasm to pursue each item is an inspiration.

 

I head out to the meeting point at Grand Army Plaza planning to lip-sync and quite honestly not very enthused to do it in front of strangers, in the light of the 40 something degree day. 

 

The spirit Amber created, along with her husband Rob, and the awesome group of friends who amassed to sing was giddy and contagious.  I let go, it was about the random burst of happiness that us sing-a-longers and the strangers who joined us felt.  Such an amazingly fun morning I was so glad to be a part of. 

 



the sun was literally bursting through my shutters this morning


shutters

 

religious  symbolism accidental, a deviation of light



love


A woman sees her husband of over 30 years from their yard walking up to the street they live on.  He's walked this route for over 15 years, most nights from the commuter bus that drops him off after work in the center of town.  “I guess I've never been out here at the right moment, when the trees are bare and I can see down the hill”.  She gushes about how cute he is and is completely distracted from the phone call she's on until he's out of sight and closer to the front door

 

 

I was on the phone with my Mom while she watched my Dad walking home.  I listened while she giggled, adoring his gait and totally loving every moment she could see him from her vantage point in the yard and then while she greeted him at the door.

 

That is love.  Epic, adorable, and something I will never take for granted.
 



I Suck at Weddings


Weddings and I have a sordid history.  Sure, I've been at like a zillion, but I feel like such a total shit for the ones I've had to miss.

 

The first wedding I was asked to be in, but was not was my Uncle's.  I was probably 11 or 12 years old, my Father's brother was getting married and I was asked to be a bridesmaid.  I vaguely recall the details, but I recall going over the costs with my Mom.  My parents were saving to buy a house at the time and I was at that insecure adolescent age where the thought of having someone pick a dress for me was outright horrifying.  I don't recall the actual reason, either stated or unsaid, but I wore a peach dress and watched from the pews.

 

The first wedding I had to outright bail on was my friend Kathy's.  The wedding was planned from the desk next to mine for months.  I loved the romance of a Christmas-time wedding and oohed and aahed over the dress and the details.  The reception was at Riverside Church and oh how I wanted to see the bridesmaids wearing elf shoes in an amazing historic church, but an ankle or foot injury or some annoying clumsy move kept me from making the trek on crutches on the PATH and then the subway.  I managed to rack up a lot of co-pays at the hospital that year, and a cab would have been well over a hundred bucks and I was firmly on my back going over the steps of R.I.C.E. the weekend of the wedding.

 

I quit my job and uprooted my life in 2006.  One of my best friends was planning his wedding for that Spring and I doubted I could make it.  More complicated was that his wife-to-be wasn't too keen on me since we'd dated many years before, I didn't have a job and my attendance was contingent on raising the funds to fly back to NJ.  My parents went with a close friend and her Mom and they sent me camera phone photos and video.  My memories of that wedding include trying to walk off the grief over missing it and finally sitting in on the lawn of the hospital across the street from where I lived in the Mission in San Francisco weeping in the sunlight, cursing the time difference and the miles between my friends and family

 

I was only in San Francisco for 6 months, but I managed to miss three weddings.  I was living with my then boyfriend.  I'd gotten to know his family as well as I could between NY, Texas, and then from San Francisco, and I wondered if my not being that that wedding might have ultimately changed things.  I hadn't found a job and so I couldn't swing the airfare back to NYC.  I stayed alone in San Francisco with the cats that weekend feeling absolutely horrible while the person I thought was the love of my life was at the wedding of his only brother.  That was a low-point of self-confidence and self-worth to say the least.

 

Shortly after that another best childhood friend got married.  It was a small church wedding, but I was in California.  I was back in NJ by the reception which was a low-key barbeque at her parent's house, and I threw myself into it, running back to my house at the first sign of rain for a tent.  I promised her a proper bachelorette after her son was born, but sadly the marriage didn't last that long.

 

Yet another close childhood friend was married in Jamaica about a year after I returned from San Francisco.  I don't recall if a discussion was had, but I would have loved to have been there.  Once again I felt as though finances made taking part in the NY/Jamiaca celebrations impossible.

 

Last year my cousin asked me to be in her wedding.  I had to decline as I lost my job in June and sharing in the costs of a bridal shower/bachelorette party/dress/etc led me to write one of the most difficult emails I've had to send.  “Sorry, I can't purely for financial reasons, I hope you understand, but I am really happy for you and I love you…." was basically the gist.  Read, I'm your loser-ass cousin who can't be in your wedding because it's too expensive.

 

A few weeks later, yet again, another of my closest friends from childhood, one who I happened to be with the night she met her groom to be asked me to be in her wedding.  Another gutting conversation about how much I wish I could…but…couldn't.  The wedding is at the end of the month and if I have to walk back from Baltimore, I'll bring flats.  She's been one of the most generous and accommodating brides ever and yet again I can't help feeling like I'm the one holding the bouquet of the world's shittiest friend. 

 

Thank goodness these things aren't about me, they're about the couple celebrating THEIR love or I would feel like the biggest Love-Grinch of all time.  While I'm almost relieved most of my friends and immediate family are married, I hate feeling as though I missed some of the key moments in loved one's lives I'd love to be a part of, not a barrier to work around.  Maybe one day I'll be a proper adult, able to attend the many weddings of friends and family, either at the alter or not – even better if gay marriage is legalized, sanctioned and accepted in my lifetime…but for the time being my track record is that I just flat out suck at weddings.



my mom’s favorite


 

My Mom still cites this video as her favorite video I've linked her to so I figured I'd dust it off and post it here. 

She's probably just proud I keep my bed made.

Music from Macross Plus
"Jade"
www.amazon.com/Macross-Plus-Original-Soundrack-Vol/dp/B00005JH55
For the record my mattress is not yellow, it's one of those "space material" toppers



sweet dreams


A very merry unbirthday


 

 

I have a birthday wish.  I promise never to try and throw myself a party or a gathering again, but what I would love is if I could gather a handful of my friends, at least once a year to do something for someone else.  Whether it's getting up before noon on a Saturday to clean a park or paint a school, working a shift in a soup kitchen or reading to kids at a library, I would love nothing more then to celebrate working alongside friends at something at least once a year.

 

I've always been rather quiet about what charities I support with time or money, because I'll admit I find it somewhat exhausting (and expensive) to pledge a donation for every charity or fundraising activity friends and family members take part in.  I get that and won't take it personally if you decline an invite.

 

So, I'll spare you the soapbox and forgo future birthday bashes at bars.  If you notice an email from me every so often with a request to attend a volunteer day, think of it as my birthday wish, whatever month it is.



pajama destiny


In which I regress and my mother buys me pajamas with feet!

 

Just about 5 1/2 years ago I stated what I'd like to call my "pajama destiny".  Little would I have imagined the fates would align on a shopping expedition with my Mom meant to find lingerie for my cousin's bridal shower…in Sears…  I'd link you to where you could buy your own awesome fleece, footed, zip-up, OMG adorable pjs for $20, but they aren't listed on the site :(.  So much for stocking up and outfitting myself with a uniform of playful patterned p-jammas of joy.

 

My mother wanted to hold up the sexy lingerie we were actually shopping for, as a sort of statement of "these are the pajamas my mom buys vs. my daughter is a tragedy and hasn't progressed past the age of 5", but the mall had apparently just been on fire (no joke), we weren't sure when they'd be closing and still had some more shopping to do.  While I was left to dancing around in the dressing room with an order to hurry up, I snapped this shot to celebrate my find.  Have I mentioned, I found the exact pj's I've been looking for? and YAY!

 

Composure regained momentarily.



Road trip memories


originally posted on the RoadCamp blog…

 

My friends and I still don’t know how we pulled it off.  First, there was the issue of renting a beach house 700 miles away when we were 17 years old.  I mailed away for rental brochures in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina and somehow convinced my Mom to vouch for us and let us book the rental on her credit card.

 

Senior Prom was approaching and as we weighed the costs of the prom bid, dress, hair appointment, limo rental, requisite hotel room for the weekend -  the lure of adventure led us to the conclusion that our money would be better spent taking a road trip, a last hurrah before we went away to college in different cities.  Then, there was the issue of getting our parents to persuade the Principal that we should be exempt from the policy that students who didn’t come to school the Monday after Prom weekend faced automatic suspension.

 

I don’t recall the details of the negotiation, but we got approval and set out to plan the route with a paper atlas.

 

We left in the early dawn hours of Prom Friday, with no regrets, feeling slightly rebellious and running on pure excitement.  I blared Rage Against the Machine (the first few tracks on mix tape 1) as I picked up with my three passengers, also known as my fellow  Space Pirates, a reference to the Merry Pranksters (of course we read a lot of Tom Wolfe and Jack Kerouac back then).  If Twitter had been around in 1996, our usernames would likely have been Webbygail, SensuousX, Maisy, and PrincessMoonBeam.

 

The trip from NJ to SC took  about 14 hours, with frequent stops, capturing the moments and our incredibly naive commentary on a giant vhs camcorder.  My co-pilot took notes and captured observations  in our “Captain’s Log” the notebook containing the handwritten turn by turn driving directions.  It was my first trip past the Mason Dixon line and experiencing it mile by mile, I was shocked at the visible change in manners, accents, and in awe of Southern Hospitality.  Our notes, which read much like a blog, contain tidbits like “Roosters on the side of I95 by Fayetville”, “Man practically jumps in front of car on I95, brushes against door, Jones Swamp, Virginia”, “Nicole is denied service at McDonalds in Richmond, VA” and numerous quotes, which out of context make little sense to me now.

 

The video of our arrival reveals an absence of cell phones and laptops as we all rushed to the wall mounted house phone and took turns letting our parents know that we arrived safely.  A few days later we called friends and convinced one to take a car-load down the following weekend to meet us.  The trip was my first taste of “freedom”, a glimpse of life outside the tri-state area in the company of friends and the new ones we met along the way.  It was a week-long slumber party, broken up by trips to the beach and local attractions recommended by family friends who lived in the area or had visited in the past.  14 years ago, the highlights I recall most revolve around the journey itself, ones captured in the notebook, in snapshots developed at a 1 hour photoshop on the drive back, and those which were captured on video.

 

I imagine RoadCamp to be a grand adventure, with more people (some I’ve yet to meet), less need for parental permission and of course, more tech.  The ability to plot the route on Google maps, coordinate logistics via email and share the trip in real time is amazing to me when I compare RoadCamp to that first analog, and much documented road trip.



Quandary


Facebook, Google Wave and now Google Buzz have me at a bit of a crossroads with where I am most likely to “engage” online.  While I love the idea of having one homebase where I can catch up with the goings-on of friends, family, and acquaintances and also post updates about mine, I simply don't feel that would be a wise decision.  My rationale and conundrum goes like this:

 

For me, blogging started as a sort of personal journal, with a dash of naïveté and a pinch of exhibitionism.  I'm glad for the honesty that allowed me.  I have no regrets, I have no desire or need  to go and make public posts private or start censoring myself.  Had I not created a separate email address or chosen a goofy name to post under – I would have over-thought everything to silence.  I didn't start podcasting or blogging thinking of it as an interactive channel, nor did I imagine how many personal connections I'd make.  But, I did.  I don't care about follower numbers or web traffic, it's selfish and social – plain and simple – and I enjoy it and treasure the friendships I made alone the way.

 

Why I've continued to post as MissSomething and register to certain sites with a secondary email address:

  • I haven't met every single person I'll ever meet.   As anyone swimming in the dating pool does, one of the first things I do is “google” someone I am getting to know.  I search their name, I search their email address, and I search the letters that come before the @___com.  I am not secretive, nor would I ever hide anything I've posted online from anyone I'm befriending or becoming intimate with…however, I am thankful for that initial control having met my fair share of overbearing (ie: stalkerish) suitors, romantic or otherwise.
  • I want to remain in the job market, continue to play online and not worry about every word I've ever posted.  There's no erasing the past with the Wayback Machine and Google archive; I've sat beside my former CEO as he googled our co-workers.  I am constantly aware, espcially while currently looking for employment, that future employees, clients, and co-workers will do this.  Again, I have nothing to hide, but call me old-fashioned, I keep work at work and home at home.  No one I work with or for needs to find photos of my cat, accompany me on a walk around my neighborhood, or know my friends (or any of my self-indulgent behaviour) with a casual search.  If it is appropriate, it will very likely come up in conversation.
  • I have a huge family.  I've lost count of how many cousins I have, ranging in age from in-utero to older than me.  While I am not ashamed nor hiding the way in which I speak (I throw the occasional F-bomb around online and off) or the things I share, I'm certainly going to speak differently around a 5 year old then I would a 12 year old than I would with a 25 year old.  While I realize anyone of any age can come across anything I've posted online, I'm not about to lock up my site or put an age verification up, this isn't porn, any kid on the hunt for bad words would be bored here.  What I worry about is a supervised child-relative being encouraged to seek out family members, and while many members of my family blog specifically to stay in touch with family, I stick to email and other places when it comes to my family. 

I don't feel as though I've split off my personality to two.  I blog, twitter, etc as me, I've just made myself a slight bit harder to find…and I think it's the right thing for me to do.  My Facebook account is a mishmash of family, people I haven't seen since elementary school, co-workers, as well as friends I engage with in places like Twitter.  I find I don't have much to say there.  Now, with Google Wave and Buzz – I'm thinking forward.  I have one primary email account I've used for over 5 years, again the one I give to family, co-workers, old friends, new friends, potential mates, etc.  Should I remain engaged mostly via Twitter and connect the two, I'd lose that (at least initial) buffer.  Sure, there are privacy settings I could go through and block people, but that doesn't change inevitable searchability.

 

The email address I tie to my social meanderings online is forwarded to my primary one and have it set that I can respond from there as well.  But, I'm never actually signed into that gmail address.  This has all worked fine, til now…

 

I know Twitter won't be around forever, I don't know if I'll keep this site up for eternity, and I actually like the shift to centralize things and make them a bit less anonymous.  But having set up things as I have, this makes these changes particularly complicated and always leave me soul-searching and struggling to keep (albeit a vague sort of) personal anonymity.  I've tried the multiple account approach and one always dies off.  With Google entering the social sandbox (rather some I'd like to play in), I have to choose to switch between two accounts or hope perhaps in the future they'll allow a user to be logged on to more than one account at a time…but that doesn't make much sense for Google and I get that.  I don't know what the fix is, or which wires I may rig to which to keep them running from a virtual splitter, but I know I'm not alone.  Perhaps if I gave sites more time to develop before I tried to work them out,  maybe this very rant wouldn't have brewed and spilleth over.  Some of my favorite bloggers, micro and otherwise, post the sort of impulsive things they might want to keep separate from a web search of their name or primary email address.  Whatever the necessity, rationale, or desire to do this, I'm sort of at a loss at how it will all work…



Red!


Dana made me do it.

You can see 7 RED things in her home here

Here are 7 RED things in mine:

 

produce

I eat a lot of tomatoes.

 

toy

Snow Day has a red-nosed toy.

 

marbles

Red magnetic marbles (that's Mars right over to the right)

 

prayer flags

The red prayer flag symbolizes fire.

 

closet

This closet is organized by color, the other is not.

 

cupboard

My Grandmother's sauce recipe requires Redpack tomatoes. I've tried others in a form of cooking rebellion, but none taste quite right.

 

slinky

Amber combined her tickets won at a Coney Island arcade with mine to cash in for this red plastic slinky.  Hey Amber, you're it!



Humor Me


Last week someone visiting the Metropolitan Museum of Art fell into a Picasso (valued at over $100 million), resulting in a 6 inch tear in the front of the canvas.

Story Link: http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2010/jan/25/picasso-painting-metropolitan-museum-art

Beyond thinking, "So glad that wasn't me", Laura posed a question so absurd – I had to share:

 



Your relationship will be canceled on save


 

 

My last break-up as finalized on Facebook.  I came across the screen grab in my "to file" folder (this is not recent) and it gave me a bit of a giggle.  I've since hidden the "relationship status" and can't imagine updating it with the status and person I'm connected to ever again.  Who needs the added drama when a relationship ends (or the dreaded conversation about when it's time to declare the end on Facebook)? 

At the time when I "canceled" said relationship I found it both hilarious and agonizing that I was given the option "Don't Cancel Relationship" as if it all came down to selecting one or the other.



Ciao, 2009


It seems unorthodox to publish a short encapsulation of 2009 with a near two weeks still left in the year, but anxious as I am to bury this one in the sea… I'm letting it go.

 

It wasn't all for naught, I'm not bidding the past 350+ days adieu without any fondness, some of the brighter moments are captured here.

 

 



absurd ads


 

 

I wish all tv commercials made me laugh as much as these two.

 



two boots


 

Win!  Back in January I finally found THE boots.  I'd been searching for years to find boots I liked, that fit and were comfortable and didn't cost a zillion dollars.  If I could identify exactly what made these boots THE ones I'd been looking for, it probably wouldn't have been such an epic search.  They fit, they felt great upon first wearing with my funky nearly square shaped feet and torn arches.  They weren't full-on cowboy boots, but the brown soles made them versatile…along with the Midol I picked up at the store on the way back, I considered them a lovely cure for PMS.

 

As tends to happen as a walking citizen of NYC I wore them down and broke them.  When the heel cracked off I made haste to the nearest shoe-maker and was horrified when I picked them up to find:

 

Perhaps I should have been more specific that it was not okay to paint the heels black (and slop it all around the soles).   Nice "work".  And the search starts anew…



temporary context


I’ve been thinking a lot about the permanence of "twitter" these days.  Personally, rhetoric regarding twitter as technology/platform doesn’t interest me nearly as much as the communication itself that often occurs there (or anywhere online).  I don’t have the vocabulary or patience to articulate more than the obvious and oft-stated, but I guess the simplest thing to say about it is that I’m appreciative that people share snippets of their lives and awed by the magic I’ve seen in that.   Though the tools will change and adapt in destination and functionality, and our personal "follow lists" will also shift, grow, and shrink, a good exchange is a good moment.  Whether documented (or undocumented) online or in face to face communication, you know it when you have or witness one of those moments.  The same can be true for the negative, people say and do annoying things and well, we respond to them.  Sometimes we hold a grudge, sometimes the feelings are fleeting, good or bad, and la la la la …life goes on…

 

When I think of this blog and the online record I keep of my own "Something Found" index, I  think it  doesn’t come close to celebrating all the awesomeness I’m surrounded by personally and virtually.  Sometimes I drive myself nuts with the question "Why exactly do I post publicly?".  Then, I shrug and think I’m thankful that life is far larger than something I could ever hope to capture in a blog, express in words, audio, photograph or video, or definitively answer the question why.

 

One person I’ve never met in the traditional sense, but have conversed with online is Christi Nielsen.  She’s an Artist in L.A. and though we’ve never actually exchanged more than a few twitter posts, looked at each other’s flickr sets, and seesmic posts, she comes to mind as someone who explores these ideas and mediums in interesting ways.  In 2007, she created " inter.sect Art Collective, a group of artists using new media platforms to explore digital exhibition spaces outside the traditional gallery mode."  This past Summer’s SecondHand Exhibition, explored how short text status updates on social networking sites, like twitter could be translated to short video clips on 12seconds.  A virtual mash-up of moments, platforms, context and mediums.

 

The reason I singled out this particular project among others she’s done, is well – a post of mine wound up as a prompt and I found the resulting videos pretty amazing… and short of backpedaling and going into a long ramble about the functionality of current tools, discussing just what I mean by tangible and intangible permanence and context, we can just chalk it up to narcissism…and virtual scrap booking (that is, until someone deletes their account, post, links are changed and domains expire.)

 

twitter exchange:

 

compilation:

Once I used this space to speak without consequence from Christi Nielsen on Vimeo.

 

12 second posts:


SecondHand – Once I used this space to speak without consequence on 12seconds.tv
user: christinielsen

 


[iPhone] Once I used this space to speak without consequence. #secondhand on 12seconds.tv
user: kyle1point0

 


SecondHand – Once I used this space to speak without consequence. #secondhand on 12seconds.tv
user: matwater213

 


Once I Used this Space to Speak Without Consequence #secondhand on 12seconds.tv
user: Bungy32

 


Once I used this space to speak without consequence #Seconhand on 12seconds.tv
user: anthonyfontana

 


SecondHand – Once I used this space to speak without consequence on 12seconds.tv
user: Yayasheshe

 


SecondHand – Once I used this space to speak without consequence #secondhand on 12seconds.tv
user: christinielsen

 


Once I used this space to speak without consequence #secondhand on 12seconds.tv
user: monaism

 


SecondHand – Once I used this space to speak without consequence #secondhand on 12seconds.tv
user: SheilaCunningham

 


SecondHand – Once I used this space to speak without consequence #secondhand on 12seconds.tv
user: SheilaCunningham

 


Once I used this space to speak without consequence…#SecondHand on 12seconds.tv
user: blewis

 


Once I used this space to speak without consequence #secondhand on 12seconds.tv
user: kyle1point0

 


SecondHand – Once I used this space to speak without consequence #secondhand on 12seconds.tv
user: VanessaVanAlstyne

 


SecondHand – Once I used this space to speak without consequence #secondhand on 12seconds.tv
user: DeCicco

 


SecondHand – Once I used this space to speak without consequence #secondhand on 12seconds.tv
user: christinielsen

 

Check them ALL out,  and, also see she is very committed to her tabs spawned from twitter.com/wankergirl
 



Across from MSG


Post Office 33rd & 8th

Few things have been so constant as the James Farley Post Office on 8th Avenue and 31st Street has been in my day to day for the past 3 years or so. 

 

Whether I was commuting from NJ or from Brooklyn, pre-lay off or post-lay off – I seem to find myself passing this Post Office either solo, or with "out of town" friends more regularly then any other iconic spot in the city.

 

Or perhaps this one sticks in my head for the sheer spectacle (8 acres!) of it and the "is it or isn’t it" status of whether or not it may or may not be a future entry point for Penn Station.

 

And though I’ll never fully be able to envision how anyone spent the night of the black out of 2003 in NYC (thanks to my quick footed escape back to Jersey City), I’ll always particularly struggle with my own Father’s unlikely, stubborn night spent on these steps.

 

Oh, midtown, though I may curse nearly every moment spent above Chelsea, these inscribed words always hit a nerve of personal perserverence  "either snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds"

 

James Farley Post Office

 

James Farley Post Office

 



After weeks of hesitation and fascination


I finally ventured into the mannequin wholesale store I’ve been peering in on.  The aisles were narrow and I clumsily tried to navigate through them without catching the attention of the store clerks while I tried to sneak a few pictures.  I bumped into one of the girls who worked there and she apologized to me and rushed away so I could get a clear shot.  If I hadn’t been so shy I probably could have gotten their blessing and stuck around…

mannequin shop

next time…



closing tabs


I’m still not thrilled with how I handle bookmarks and feeds.  I’ve tested, tried, formed opinions, exported, imported, abandoned, drafted a blog post on the process and specifics, but find the talk of tools lulls me into unfinished posts.  Currently, I have a half-assed organization system I sort of resent and continually accumulate tabs that I keep open, (over and over with every restart) often for weeks.  Finally lost when a friend uses my browser and closes it (like a normal person would).  Apologies commence and I declare it a good time to wipe the slate clean.  It amuses to me to imagine small blips in traffic data from my isp when the number of open tabs gets so out of hand my computer crashes multiple times a day for a week or more.  I’m a clean freak at home, try to keep the clutter to an organized minimum and abhor the idea of hoarding…probably because I can relate to it… 

 

Some tabs lose their context after a few weeks, found via serendipity, twitter, sent from a friend in chat or email, or personal "worm holes" of research and admiration; some are profound, and I regard them as I do the books I will box and move with me wherever I go.  I continue to search for a system that appeals to me, but in the meantime – sort of hoping an exercise in tedium will help change my digital cluttery.  Here goes…

 

 

Today, I am filing and/or closing:

Likes: old maps, tools, analog, oldfangled wearables that don’t advertise a brand name over the function of said item. 

 

I’ve stopped wearing a watch in lieu of checking the time on my mobile phone.  This summer when I started riding a bike around Brooklyn I realized just how bad my sense of direction is without landmarks or the famililar grid of Manhattan.  I craved a gps system mounted to my handlebars.  I enjoyed the adventure of getting lost at first and stopping to check my iphone slowed me down.  Eventually, going 4 miles in the wrong direction became an annoyance, especially if I had a destination and arrival time in mind.  The practicality and cost of having something of value on the bike itself in an urban area = one more thing I have to remove and carry with me every time I park and lock.  I researched bell-mounted compasses, but figured I might as well go all the way – and get a quality compass, one that i could wear on my wrist and one slightly more interesting then I can find in a sports supply store (with another brand logo I’d grow to despise).  I splurged and bought one today.  Link closed.

Amber is competing in a Connect Four championship, round 3 is tonight.  Should I stop procrastinating (ie: finish this post) and get some work done today, I’d like to head over to the Bell House, grab a beer and cheer her on.  GO AMBER!

I didn’t even know I wanted a purse made of keyboard keys until  I saw this one.  Following the links it’s a little unclear where one buys this one, and I couldn’t currently purchase it even if I could find a price.  This one goes in my shopping/lust folder for now.

The other night I was flipping channels and got sucked into this fascinating story of the Lady Juliana – more info.  Tab closed, imagination expanded.

Filing in both my local and design folders.  Download unavailable for PC.  data, art, eyecandy, ny, swoon.

Audio and info on the Conet Project.  via @captaincrazy.  Aural hauntings.

I want a print of the Waldseemüller map, ie, the first map to use the name "America" and dubbed the map that changed the world.  This will have to wait until I frame the numerous maps I have awaiting frames find a home and place on my walls.  For now, it sits in my oft-increased, rarely referenced "shopping/lust" folder.

 Maybe one day I’ll finish my draft post re: this song.

Great conversations happen here.  Twitter often reminds me to open @faboomama s Friendfeed and I’ll find myself here again. xoxox Anika!

I don’t personally wear t-shirts with witty phrases, but like it or not, I reference them.  Somehow related to how I feel about emoticons and then use them with abandon and lost irony.

Reference above hypocracy.  As a rule, I try not to collect "things".  So, I have a small collection of playing cards.  There’s room for another in that drawer, but for now lives in shopping/lust.

Sent to a friend for lulz.  Closed.

Rob made this.  It’s awesome.  Nuff said.

via Thrillist  One day I’d like to buy one for my Dad.  Filed in shopping/gifts

Because I’m a nerd and can always benefit from learning more about presentation skills.  Sidenote, I find it also fascinating this guy watched hours of someone else presenting and wrote a book about it.  Added to watchables for next time I sit down to watch some "tv".

Twittered by someone at some point, opened, unwatched, same as above, rinse, repeat.

via cellar.org/iotd.php  I want to keep in touch with this pool.

  • http://www.suck.uk.com/product.php?rangeID=121&catID=4

via reflectionof.me/creative-bin-bags Link closed, when I spring for garbage bags not sold at the dollar store, they will be biodegradable.  But they’re still awesome!

I was trying to explain an ARG I took part in to a friend.  Found link and updated post.  Closed.

Added to design/eyecandy folder.  Don’t recall where I saw it, but it’s awesome.

Came across my twitter stream, don’t recall source/when.  Filed in articles and the blog to readables.  Led me to:

One of these days when I clean up my readables file I will be torn how to categorize this link.  personal, business?  fascinating and inspiring.  Led me to:

Filed in articles folder.  Which led to:

I may or may not have taken an internet "test" re: Asperger Syndrome

ethernet strands as jewelry.  Unavailable, potential future DIY project.

Added axolotl to imaginary digital menagerie via cellar.org/iotd.php

Last Words from Documentally on Vimeo.

 

 

 

Thank you, Christian, and family, for sharing this as well as your feelings on why you share. 

 

 

 

Listen!

 

Honestly, there are still more tabs.  I’m going to file them later and by later I mean now…sure, I do.



Bed Stuy Hardware Store Raid


Bed Stuy Hardware Store Raid

 

In July I dropped by this Hardware store on Fulton Street (btw Franklin and Bedford) to pick up some "humane" mouse traps.  They didn’t have any, but I was struck at the time by three things.  1.  A very angry customer was arguing with the clerk (owner?) about some paint or varnish he’d purchased there.  2.  He actually knew what kind of trap I was asking for unlike the many other hardware stores I’d tried along the way there.  3.  The place was shocking.  A litter of kittens appeared to be having an amazing time playing among the piles (and I mean piles) of stuff.  Like most stores in the area, the merchandise was behind glass, with a window for the merchant to collect money and pass you your purchases.  The window was completely stuffed with stock, "stuff" was stacked floor to ceiling and the owner was friendly and helpful and clearly knew where every single item was in the apparent chaos.  He stood in the center area of the store, on the same side of the glass as we did and only entered the shop area to dig through his wares and offer up suggestions.  I wondered if he was a hoarder, I wanted to ask a ton of questions, but I just needed a mouse trap and in the midst of an argument with another customer – it wasn’t the right time to try and slip in "How did this happen to your store?"  The neurotic, compulsive problem solver side of me thought of the possibilities of the place after a few days of cleaning.  I was convinced there could be treasure among the plumbing supplies, nails, tools and solvents.  I suppose the romantic, nostalgic part of me appreciated that such a place could stay in business as long as it had.   I’ve passed the place with a certain fondness over the past few months, a sort of mystery mixed with disbelief.

 

Currently Fulton Street is closed from Franklin to Bedford by police as they are emptying the store into trucks.  I heard a few rumors as I tried to figure out what was going on, but I don’t know why there was a rush hour raid on this little shop.  Judging from what I could see and what folks were saying, it might have to do with paint.  It’s sort of bittersweet.  Who knows, maybe the place will re-open tomorrow.  Maybe not. 



I Love This


Alphabet Soup Battle


subway

In which 2 MTA employees duel announcing skills and drop knowledge.

 

 
icon for podpress  Alphabet Soup Battle: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

You got all that?

 

For the perplexed among us, there was no shortage of helpful passengers to translate. The edgy banter had been going a good ten minutes before I hit record regarding today's A/C/E and D/F bungle and the "super abundance of trains" causing a delay. I held off transferring for a few stops because the chattier the MTA employee on the mic, the more fun the ride.

 

Transfer bonus: walking directly into The Still Of The Night.

 



DIY Fail


Dana joked “Your cat got her first Brazilian.”
With the morning's crisis finally resolved, I couldn't stop laughing and shaking my head at my own stupidity.

 

Snow Day sleeping in the path of the fan

 

Snow Day is my cat, and had just experienced a rather traumatic hair removal by adhesive.  Until I adopted her, I'd had very limited experience around the feline species, and for the most part, I'd say we've both done pretty well.  In the past year and a half, I've found myself awed by her personality, quirkiness, and intelligence, smitten by her affection and genuine sweetness, and at times shocked by how demanding and spiteful she can be.  In recent months she'd taken to waking me up around dawn to feed her by doing anything to get my attention, and get me out of bed.  It's become a morning routine, Snow Day wakes up before me, performs absurd gymnastics, knocks anything she can get her paws on off any surface she can reach, and begs for my (negative) attention.  She is spoiled, and a rather big girl at over 16lbs, so I think it's only responsible that I set some limits (I will add that she gets a lot of encouraged playtime during human-waking hours).  Sleeping with a spray bottle next to me has been effective in curbing her early morning destruction.  The rampage ends, she snuggles up to go back to sleep, and a little later she gets her measured daily portion of food.

 

Prior to my acquaintance with Snow Day, I had this notion that cats were graceful…not mine, she's (at times) hilariously clumsy.  Just about the only thing which hasn't surprised me was her desire to claw things.  It's actually not been nearly as bad as I thought it could be, she goes after one arm of the couch and one particular wood windowsill.  And, here's where I miscalculated again.  As the overall trend of the Summer has been – drastic cost-cutting and depression era cues from my Grandfather to DIY (do it yourself), I saw double sided adhesive strips at the pet store created to dissuade cats from scratching – and thought a fair substitute would be to use a long piece of packing tape folded backwards.  Since she prefers her hideous cardboard scratching post to the more luxurious one I bought when I got her (which she never touched), I figured the more haphazard and the more I hate the way it looks, the more likely it would be to work.

 

Every week or so I removed the old tape, snapped off a new strip and replaced it.  She'd been staying away and getting her "scratch on" in the sanctioned cardboard thing purchased for that very purpose.  That is, until this morning, when I woke up to the sound of thrashing under my bed and a crackle-pop sound.  Snow Day was tangled in tape.  She was panicked and I was half asleep, worried that she'd hurt her head or her arm, not to mention, how the tape would come off without taking her fur with it.  I tried to calm her, I found safety scissors dull enough to cut the tape to lessen her panic of being tangled.  I tried to see if I could shave the fur and realized without sedatives and restraints (ie: a vet), it wasn't going to work.  I gave her some food while I called my Mom and tried to think.  She suggested a "ripping off a band-aid" approach, until I explained that there was probably three feet of tape in all and being hasty would likely tear her skin.  I found a service online which allowed me to ask a vet a question, who suggested bathing her in dish-detergent to loosen up the glue.  In the meantime, the cat was trying to get it off herself.  She was licking and clawing at it and making some progress.  After about 30 minutes of that, I worried she was going to hurt her tongue, which was now making her spaz out more than the tape.  I tried to comfort her, wondering as I often do “How the hell do parents raise children?”  I sucked it up and tried holding the edges of the tape and judging if it could be pulled off by how hard she was willing to pull herself (beyond her desire to just run away).  At this point the tape was in several pieces and a lot more manageable.  I'm sure it wasn't pleasant, but the amount of hair was roughly what I'm used to seeing when I brush her and she would walk right back over to me and let me go for another piece.  Two hours after of shenanigans after I woke up she was napping in my lap and I was laughing that my cat had endured a sort of Brazilian wax.

 

I don't anticipate scratching in that location will be an issue again, but I wanted to understand what was different about the product sold in the store and figured I should keep some on-hand.  Had I read the package, I probably never would have used heavy duty packing tape.  Right there on the package it says “Medical grade adhesive, won't harm fabric or cats”.  Thankfully, the cat is fine, she was back to playing with her toys and had no fear of me afterward (unlike after a bath).  Another few minutes or any indication that she was in pain and I had her carrier at the ready for an emergency vet visit (I don't even want to think about the cost crisis of that).  It's kind of a headsmack story, but if you are going to cut corners, be careful.  I know, no kidding.  I wound up shelling out the money for the store bought ones in the end, but I'm looking around at all my little projects with a more critical eye for safety -, human and pet.   I know, DUH.

 

Also, Heather suggested olive oil, which I also thought was a great idea.



9-11 WTC Memorial 8th Annual Floating Lanterns Ceremony


9-11 WTC Memorial Annual Floating Lanterns Ceremony

 

 
icon for podpress  9-11 WTC Memorial 8th Annual Floating Lanterns Ceremony: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

In 2008 I attended the 7th Annual Floating Lanterns Ceremony for the first time.  As I've found words are often an insufficient medium to articulate both the personal experience of September 11th, life after;  the same goes for this annual ceremony on Pier 40.  Among a crowd of strangers, of many cultures and faiths, I am grateful for the personal comfort I have found in attending this memorial the past two years.  Out of respect for the event, the speakers, those in attendance, and you…I wanted to share the audio of the ceremony, without my own commentary. in the hope that those unable to attend in person may benefit from hearing it.

 

*Shinji Harada, Eriko Fukui , and the Japanese American Association of New York Chorus with Reono Ito, Conductor, performed beautiful musical tributes. My apologies for having to edit those segments down to short snippets, but unless audio or video clips appear online (and I can get permission to post them), the only justice I could do to these gorgeous moments was to remove them and try my best not to remove their context entirely.  I borrowed a small audio device to record and didn't know how to use it properly.  I will insert video clips if/when they appear online.  Aside from that I, editing was kept to a minimum. 


9-11 WTC Memorial 8th Annual Floating Lanterns Ceremony

Sponsored by the New York Buddhist Church
Partner with Interfaith Center of New York
Supported by NY de Volunteers and New York Kayak Company
Supported by Buddhist Council of New York, United States
New York Disaster Interfaith Services
LIC Community Boathouse
and NYC Downtown Boathouse

Delicious and generous feast provided and served by the UNITED SIKHS
 

 

Sincere and humble thanks (and hugs) to all the volunteers and organizations who participate and make this event as perfect as they do, I appreciate every moment of what they have done to commemorate a tragedy I wish we didn't need to.  Please donate to them when you can.



cat deliberate


cat deliberate

 9 months ago

many months of "time out ny" culled - recipes, places to go, diy, etc clipped for later

I now have an appreciation for batch organization/purging.  I never would have expected a few months ago that I’d have a use for so many articles on bike paths, etc

Posted via email from misssomething’s posterous