I know, I just thought this would be a cool place to decorate for the holiday!
So say I.
The first cover is A Cool Christmas Vol. 3, but I actually have Vol. 2. Then there's TSO, Brian Setzer, some Celtic stuff, classical stuff, last year's Harry Connick, Jr album, one with Bing and Frank which sounds kind of bad on here, more Frank, and maybe something else I left out.
There are certain pieces of art -- music, books, movies, tv shows -- that click with you in ways that are hard to define. Oftentimes mere words cannot explain the feelings you have for certain things. The heart wants what it wants, right? Though I have tried, I still can't explain what it was about the Wakefield Twins of Sweet Valley that had me entranced for years on end. I can't adequately explain how the music of The Replacements exhilarates me and makes me feel understood and not alone all at the same time.
Nor can I explain why I love Dawson's Creek so much. It's a silly teen drama that I fell in love with when I was much too old to be in the show's target audience. I remember having a great time making fun of my parents who were early-fans of the Dawson's Creek/Felicity night on the WB. Little did I know, three short years later I would be the biggest fan of Dawson's Creek.
It caught me when I was at my weakest. I was working a crap job in Customer Service, living alone for the first time, and fighting a battle with pneumonia where the doctor made me choose between staying in my apartment for 10 days or going to the hospital to rest.
I opted for the home quarantine and it was then I caught my first episode. It was the one where Pacey kissed Joey. That's all it took and I was hooked. I watched the show religiously for the next two years. Then I proceeded to Netflix the hell out of the entire series so I could get the full Dawson's Creek experience.
It didn't end there. Once I moved into Supergenius HQ and had cable, I began to TiVO the show on any time it was shown. I'd watch it every night and it ruled. But then I got laid off in the winter of 08 and by that summer decided that I needed to slash my cable budget. I dropped down a level, saving myself a measly $13 a month (seriously Comcast, are you fucking kidding me?) and thus ended my Dawson's supply. There was much sadness throughout the land.
Over the years I've spent a lot of time debating the merits of purchasing each of the six seasons of Dawson's on DVD. But somehow I always held back, mostly because I am cheap. But then they released the Complete Series as a box set for only $81. I could not resist, and snapped it up immediately.
There was much rejoicing throughout the land when it landed on my doorstep. However, after making my way through 2.5 seasons I've discovered that one of the discs is flawed. It won't play the finale of season 3, which is a very important episode. It is here where Joey makes the decision to ditch whiny, crybaby Dawson and spend the summer sailing to Key West with Pacey.
So, what's a girl to do? I, of course, e-mail customer service at Sony Pictures Home Entertainment whereby I was told to pack up my entire Boxed Set send it to their giant conglomerate and then spend the next three to five weeks with my fingers crossed praying that they return a working set to me.
Perfect solution, huh?
I don't think so. While I am all for sending them a proof of purchase, and even sending back the defective disc for a new one, the idea of just sending something I paid hard-earned money for into the void doesn't sit well with me. And why does it take so long? Three to five weeks? It took Amazon 2-days to get the set to me, apparently it takes the makers of the boxed set a couple of fortnights to get a working product to me.
I call bullshit.
2:30 minutes of animated butterflies and dragonflies. Well worth your two minutes.
We signed up for this once we got here. Association Holiday dinner (and meeting) was open to the 300 homes or so in this area. We were sure we would be wanting to leave as soon as we got there. We were wrong!
Do you remember the things you did when you first started using the Web and how it has changed your life?
The things I first did on the web did change my life, mostly for the better. I only used it now and then from about 1993 to 1996, when we got our first home computer and a sponsored CompuServe account. That's when I became merbelle, a name I kept and used for all internet dealings until Yahoo literally screwed it up. But that's another story.
I joined two forums at first, a poetry forum, and one that talked about old music. The music one, populated with radio djs and music collectors, taught me so much. First, it was encouraging that the people I spoke with online were just people; I never had any of that fear people developed about how the web was full of evil or whatever. And the people of that forum, mostly men, were kind and generous with their time and knowledge. I owe a great deal of my current music interest and rediscovery of good old music to them. I hope that they enjoyed speaking with me as well, though I did not have as much to contribute.
The poetry forum, I owe so much to that! I still talk with a couple of those people now and then, and peer into the forum they started elsewhere when CompuServe began to change.
The man joined it first. And at the time I thought he was more literary than me, and talented in a way that I was not, so I was afraid to join in. (There were other reasons, but not relevant to this post.) I wanted to share a poem I'd written, though, with people who might tell me whether it was interesting and worth continuing effort in the medium.
This is that poem. Okay, it's not actually a poem, and I knew it then, but I also knew it had poetic devices, and wanted to learn more about that kind of writing.
if you teach a man to fish,
when will arthritis prevent him from reeling in a catch?
you never cut your hands slicing potatoes, but the slices are thick and uneven
and some of them fry up brown and crisp while others still seem cold in the middle.
you’re so thin i could rock you as easily as i rock my own children,
but you’d never admit you need my touch just as you’d never let me buy you some fish as long as you can
still cast your rusty hook into the water.
you don’t think i know that you eat those potatoes with nothing but store-brand cola to wash them down
because it’s cheaper than coffee and you have no bait for that rusty hook of yours.
you proudly display that laminated name badge pocket protector wherever you go.
but it’s yellow with age, and your once stiff canvas shirt is soft and rumpled; worn through at the elbows.
your myopic eyes, large and faded through those thick goggle-like spectacles,
sort out the change for the generic antacid that food stamps won’t provide for.
i imagine you carefully wiping your dish dry after your meal,
and i think of calling my dad.
So I dove in and shared it. You had to do it in just the right way; there were sections for people with a lot of experience and knowledge about poetry, and others for chatter, and some for just sharing poetry you didn't want feedback on, and of course there were developing rules for giving and receiving praise, etc.
It went over well, I mean, of course it isn't very good, but it does have a sense of balance to it, and it's kind of touching. A couple of the experts were kind, and told me what they thought was worthwhile about it. So that encouraged me to write more, and get to know the people, make some friends, watch so much romantic drama being played out onscreen, which sometimes fueled more writing, etc. There were three men there I'll never forget, all wonderfully talented, all British, though two of them lived in other parts of the world. They each taught me something about how to read and write poetry, and occasionally took a personal interest in my efforts.
There was another man I met there with whom I had an ongoing online and occasional phone call friendship from that time nearly to this, though we haven't spoken now in over a year. I will always remember him with more fondness than most other people I've ever known.
Most of the women seemed kind of like they were on the make. And there was less talent among them. I do not believe this is because women are less talented at poetry, merely that the ones in that area were probably less focused on it. So I didn't really connect with any of them. But I learned to take poetry seriously, and learned so much about myself and my talents, how to develop different styles of writing and communication, and how to engage people for conversation.
I wrote a sonnet to share there, my first one, that I was just so proud of, and now it is lost somewhere in the ether of the web. I don't know why it's not saved in my poetry files with all the others. But wow, realizing that I could write one gave me a real sense of power that I've never forgotten, and that I do try to remember to apply to my ongoing efforts.
I was 31 when I began using the web to learn about writing and other subjects, and to make friends. Thinking about it that way, it seems like a lifetime ago. These past 13 years have been filled with a great deal of extraordinary pain that is still not resolved. But I have an awful lot of fond memories mixed in with all that, and I can thank access to the web for many of them.
Tomorrow night, I am supposed to go camping. The trip is planned from tomorrow night to Sunday afternoon. We will be backpacking in the Hill Country.
I was pretty excited about it until a couple of days ago. In Texas, winters are usually fairly mild in December. I've spent many Christmases in my hometown in shorts (barring that one year we actually got snow). So I wasn't too concerned about a camping trip in December.
But then this week, the news started reporting of the possibility of snow. I blew it off at first, but apparently there's a 70% chance that we're getting fucking snow tomorrow. If I DIDN'T have to go camping, I'd be thrilled. What a perfect reason to stay home, right? (Because I REFUSE to drive anywhere in snow. Ain't happening. And since all my coworkers have seen my car, they will believe me when I say it is safer for me not to drive in snow).
I am going camping with a Program team member, a bunch of high school kids, and some of their parents. He is the leader of this group of high school students...kind of like Boy Scouts, except it's Co-Ed. He asked me to do this back in the summer, and I said sure. It sounded pretty fun. And up until three days ago, I was pretty pumped. Then the news of the snow came in, and I was like, shit. Who wants to camp out in snow, for the first time? I asked if we were still going if it snowed. "Yes!" he said. "We're only not going if the roads are icy and unsafe to travel on."
I've been scouring weather reports and now it's kind of hard to tell what the weather will be like tomorrow. One report says that the snow will stop by mid-afternoon, while another says that there will be a freeze tomorrow night. We're not supposed to get to the site until 9:30, so I definitely don't want to be on the roads around then. The good thing is that parents are responsible for driving everyone (I'm not even allowed to drive, thank goodness). So I'm sure that if there was some concern, we're all adults and would be able to make a rational decision.
I guess the only thing left to do is wait and see. Since I don't want to go camping in freezing temperatures, cross your fingers for me that we get a deep freeze here in Central Texas tomorrow and that we postpone the trip for warmer temperatures.
1. I tried to post a movie a long time ago, The Bat (epic fail).
2. I saw an advert for a book in the 100 years ago today New York Times called When A Man Marries by Mary Roberts Rinehart.
3. I thought Hmm, that looks like interesting... I checked gutenberg.org, and there it was/is.
4. Also in her list of books was a title I recognized, The Bat.
5. I thought, could that be the same story-line of that movie, The Bat, I tried to post so long ago? It was! I had no idea The Bat was based on a book.
Aside: Agnes Moorehead is one of my favorite actresses and she's way under-appreciated. She was such a good actress I feel badly that she's only remembered for her campy role as Endora. She was in an episode of the Twilight Zone called THE INVADERS that CREEPED ME OUT when I was a kid. CREEPED ME OUT, but I remember even at such a young age thinking she's a marvelous actress to pull that role off.
She whispered, so I had to lean in and then ask her to repeat: "Are you ready for Christmas???"
For one thing, it is December 3rd. That's 22 days before Christmas, and I think putting the ham in the oven NOW might be a tad premature. Also, I only celebrate Christmas because of the cultural expectation to see my family and give them stuff now and then. It's a convenient enough occasion to do so, though I must say the travel would be much easier in the summer.
Surely some bank customers are not Christians... so isn't the assumption that "ready for Christmas" is a state I wish to achieve a bit presumptuous? But I went along with it, as she recounted her gift list status, acting as if I could actually afford to buy gifts this year. But then, before I could get the hell out of there she had to ask, "Do you bake, too?"
Yes, I am a woman. Yes, I have on occasion baked things. But this holiday baking subculture is not a part of my life. Not that there's anything wrong with it, but it is offensive when someone assumes that just because I'm a white woman in the US I have a baking agenda for December. Well, the bank teller certainly does. I was literally done and backing away as she recounted the six batches of cookies plus xmas morning bread repertoire.
I am really not ready for Christmas.
Besides the obvious financial burden for someone without a real income, I am now sucked in to a North Idaho family extravaganza. If I had work I could claim I could not afford to be in Idaho for a whole week, but as it stands my only possible excuses are sudden illness or a bad attitude.
My cousin (on my dad's side) is paying for a fancy condo on Lake Coeur d'Alene for her mom and sister and their men to stay while they are in St. Maries with her dad's family. There is a sofa bed and free transport for me, but aunt Rosie wants to leave on the 20th and spend one night at the trailer of one of her drinking buddies up in the woods (I'd be on the couch), and now it turns out my mom's family won't be celebrating Xmas until the 26th, when my cousin (on my mom's side) gets back from his wife's family in Montana. And the condo where we are staying is an hour or mor from anywhere on icy, windy roads... and I have to rely on relatives (drunk relatives) to drive me anywhere.
The irony is that neither I nor anyone on either side of my family really cares about celebrating Xmas. Except the cousin who is paying for the condo (she once dragged us to the world's largest Xmas market in Rothenberg, Germany... I had a hangover... we were there for hours).
On the bright side, the condo building has a heated indoor pool and a restaurant with a bar. And I have plenty of books to read.
