|JUN 66: I am 14 months old in this photo, and I am smiling because I have a new baby sister ... or maybe because I have just peed in the pool.
|I am an American.
|I type really fast.
|I am left-eye dominant.
|I brush & floss regularly.
|I am not as funny as I think I am, sometimes.
|I was born on Easter.
|I believe in music.
|I play tennis.
|I do not work quietly without disturbing others.
|I am a procrastinator.
|I watch certain movies just because I know they will make me cry.
|I am not my fucking khaki cargo shorts.
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|:: Clarke's Place [>]
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|:: Gotham [>]
|:: Expedia [>]
|:: Rarely Updated [>]
|:: Google [>]
:: Saturday, February 28, 2004 ::
The Passion of The Christ, Part 1
:: Wednesday, February 25, 2004 ::
So, I decide sometime around midday today that I just might want to go see The Passion tonight. Because The Lovely is busy with company, and besides, I think I just might like to see this movie all by myself. Actually, I am convinced I would like to see it all by myself, all alone in a theater, but I do not foresee that happening, thanks to all the publicity over the past few months.
Still, it seems like what my movie guru would call "a big movie." One you just have to see in a theater. So there is no use waiting for the DVD; this one must be seen in a theater. With other people around me, most likely.
I decide I will go to the 9:50 p.m. showing at the theater closest to me, about 18 miles away.
Only because I manage to take a power nap late this afternoon and I feel fairly energetic around 9 p.m., just when I am thinking about leaving. So I head out around 9:20 p.m. Get to the theater at 9:45, right on time.
And for some reason, I am quite surprised by this.
And the girl tells me that Eurotrip is also starting at 9:50, and Welcome to Mooseport is starting at 9:55, if I am interested in either of those movies, and I just have to shake my head and smile.
No. No, I am not.
(Not that Mooseport is completely out of the question, ever, given the fact that Maura Tierney *swoon* is in it. But: Welcome to Mooseport as an alternative to The Passion, honestly? I DON'T THINK SO.)
So far, I have not heard any reviews of The Passion from anyone I actually know. Margaret saw it Wednesday with one of her pals and could only say it was pretty brutal.
Prompting me to think, to myself: Hmm, what part of "crown of throwns" or "nails in palms" imagery ever led anyone to believe the crucifixion of Jesus was anything BUT brutal??!
Admittedly, I have always been partial to Easter, as far as holidays go. I was born on Easter morning, 1965, and because I live in the Midwest, where we actually get to enjoy (??) all four seasons, there is always this kind of rebirth/rejuvenation thing going on during spring, usually right around Easter, so that if I am going to have even a smidgen of spirituality during the course of a normal year, it is usually right then.
This year, though, I didn't get my ashes on Ash Wednesday. Probably no biggie, though, 'cause God knows I am not Catholic, and it's something I've done only the last couple of years — 2 years ago because I felt bad enough about what I had done that I was grabbing for anything that might grant me absolution, and 1 year ago because Amy asked me to go. And I gave up nothing for Lent this year — NOT because I am without anything that I need to give up, but because I feel good and hopeful and alive and confident, somehow, that something great just might be on the verge of happening.
And as bad as I have ever felt about anything that has ever happened, all I really know is this: Every step I have taken — every misstep, even — has brought me to this point. Right now. And I am so fucking glad — so very lucky, too — about every person that has affected me in some way, good or bad or somewhere in the middle ... and there is lots of space in the middle ... that I cannot help thinking that somehow, some way, it will all work out.
"It" being my life, of course.
:: Di 11:22:00 PM [+] ::
:: Tuesday, February 24, 2004 ::
I hate the way my eyes burn on days like these.
Days that I am actually brought to tears. At work, no less, where I hardly ever cry.
Where I did cry, back during that time during which I cried a little or a lot (usually a lot) every day.
But it's been a while, since those days.
And furthermore: I need a haircut.
:: Di 11:41:00 PM [+] ::
Who the fuck CARES??!
* Picture Charlie Brown, head thrown back, mouth wide open *
There. That's me. Completely bored and annoyed and just so ... so ... so who the fuck CARES over this same-sex marriage thing.
Does it matter? Does it honestly MATTER who you marry? (I think that should be "whom," actually. Fuck it, I don't even care about THAT!) Does it? How COULD it?
Gavin Newsom fucking ROCKS. Pretty good hair, too, although that slicked-back look is a little not my cup o' tea, especially for one with such a high forehead, but what the hell: 3,300 and counting.
Yeah. We need an amendment to prevent such an abomination.
This would make me kinda sad if I weren't completely exhausted.
Ever miss someone just because you love the way they look at the world? And how you could work yourself into a frenzy or even a mild lather over something, and they could tell you, "None of it really matters," with such conviction and calmness that you couldn't help but believe them?
Yeah. Me, too.
:: Di 11:03:00 PM [+] ::
If you're not part of the solution ...
... you're part of the problem.
I have learnt that, more than anything else, over the last month and 24 days.
Am I any better off for having that knowledge? Who knows.
One thing I do know:
I miss my friend. Or pal. Or whatever she/I/we were/are.
:: Di 2:22:00 PM [+] ::
:: Sunday, February 22, 2004 ::
I seriously need a tripod.
However, I LOVE that my camera's zoom actually got me TOO CLOSE to the moon 'cause I also wanted to get in the planet or star or whatever next to it.
I need a nap. Sleep was elusive last night/this morning.
:: Di 12:48:00 PM [+] ::
:: Saturday, February 21, 2004 ::
1. Chocolate pie, made by a co-worker of mine named Alice. (I had a slice for breakfast Thursday and Friday. VERY tasty!)
2. Outline of a tiny tree near Staples, just after sunset Saturday evening.
3. My best pal's doggie, Chico, pretending to relax on "his" pillow. (Plaid pillowcase, Crate 'n' Barrel.)
:: Di 1:14:00 PM [+] ::
"Do you have an opinion?"
:: Tuesday, February 17, 2004 ::
"A mind of your own?"
Oh. Hmm. Oops.
One of my newfound (newly found?) duties in my new job is putting together Page 4 every day. The op-ed page. Which has become my favorite page, some days, anyway, because now I have 4 local columnists (including myself), and I am constantly looking for more because, what the hey, opinions are like ... well, we all know what, and everybody has one.
Anyway, at the bottom of the page, some days, if there's space, I run the information for submitting a letter to the editor (still not getting as many of those as I'd like, but I'll keep trying), and the first sentence says, "Do you have an opinion?" and every time I read it, I start singing the song "Special" by Garbage, and then I am instantly in a good mood. 'Cause I really really like that song.
(Not energetic enough to transcribe or look up the lyrics, however; I'll just keep humming the song in my head, and if I get really industrious over the next few minutes, I shall dig out the CD and crank it up 'cause, what the FUCK, it's Friday night — no, wait, it's WAY early Saturday morning, and I love my life, even more so now that the weekend is here, so YEAH!)
And now I've managed to get yet another digital camera, the Olympus C-5000, only this one belongs to the paper, and I like the fact that it's a 5-megapixel, but somehow I don't like it as well as the other Olympuses (Olympi?) we have, so who knows. And that, combined with my new cell phone, all in the span of less than 2 weeks, prompted me to proclaim to some of my old college buds (we have a Web site but it's password-protected and what-not, so no need to link) that I am rapidly becoming the electronics geek my stepdad told me I should go to college to become. Some 20 years later.
("But no," I said. "I wanna be a wriiiiiiiiiiiiiiter!")
Random observation: I like milk. I almost always drink fat-free skim milk because everyone seems to think you should, but I prefer whole milk. I just polished off a glass bottle of 1% milk — which, when you've drunk fat-free for long enough, seems like whole milk. And it was very good.
:: Di 12:46:00 AM [+] ::
:: Monday, February 16, 2004 ::
Sometime last night, I dreamt of my friend K.J.
Haven't seen her for a while. More than 2 years, now that I think about it: Christmas Eve service, 2001. I, in the midst of absolute chaos; she, in the usual normalcy that 4 kids and a husband can bring.
I told her I loved her ... and I do.
She is a year older than I. One of those "perfect" girls, back when we were kids: Straight-A student. First-chair clarinet. Cheerleader. Brooke Shields look-alike — with BETTER BROWS, even! Cute boyfriend.
And she was my friend. IS my friend.
She chose to be friends with me. K.J., a girl we all wanted to idolize but couldn't, somehow, because she was so incredibly JUST LIKE US. Only better ... only she never let on.
I remember one summer, K.J. and I went to the beach every day. Sure, sometimes she wanted to pout about her cute boyfriend (who somehow had not quite figured out that she was The One ... but he did ... eventually), but mostly she just wanted to hang out with me.
And we'd talk and I'd make her laugh and we'd drive her mom nuts — literally — with K.J.'s driving.
Every time I have ever seen her, in my entire life — or at least since jr. high, when we first got acquainted — she has made me feel, without question, that she was as happy as happy could be to see me.
In my dream last night (or was it this morning?), K.J. and I were lying in bed next to each other. Nude but completely non-sexual. Spooning. I was lying behind her and had my arms around her.
I felt peaceful and comfortable and warm.
:: Di 6:31:00 PM [+] ::
:: Saturday, February 14, 2004 ::
I look up this morning, and the moon is how I like it second-best: Just a lil' ol' sliver, hanging relatively low in the sky in the South. Which gives me a chance to test out the digi-zoom, and it appears to work well, so I am already pleased, first thing today.
I will test it further, first full moon.
And then, when I return to work, I decide to play with the moon ("Di lassoes the moon!") in Adobe, and when I click the button on "Auto Levels," the light blue in the photo goes all black, just like night. Which is cool. Except the photo was taken in daylight, around 6:50 a.m. (I was aiming for arriving at work at 6:30. So much for good intentions.)
In-between, during a somewhat hectic day at work, I get a call from Tee-Hee. And I barely answer the phone in time because I've switched the cell from "Dizzy" to "Long scale," and it's not quite as loud. Still, I get it in time; turns out she is calling to tell me about the "Gilligan's Island Marathon" going on today on the Hallmark channel.
Back in the day, though, Gilligan ruled.
And, truthfully: He still does. I have laughed OUT LOUD at least 3 times in the last 10 minutes, and I'm only half-paying attention.
And I STILL recognize the little background songs. And they make me laugh, too.
:: Di 2:03:00 PM [+] ::
Happy Valentine's Day!
:: Wednesday, February 11, 2004 ::
And here I am, awake before I wanted to be, and already jonesing for a nap (!) but telling myself if I get back in there before 10:30, it still counts as "sleep." And I find myself looking at the day ahead, completely free of "formal" plans (LOVE days like these!), but I am contemplating these options: a visit to the herb show (wouldn't mind grabbing me some cilantro and parsley and mint ... since my herb garden, uh, never seemed to materialize last year), dinner at Pizza & Pasta Express w/my best pal and the grandkids, watching 21 Grams later this evening, perhaps.
Right now, I can't even get motivated to leave the house just yet.
:: Di 10:19:00 AM [+] ::
"She conjured herself up in your mind," my pal Tee-Hee tells me.
And I know Tee-Hee is right, but that doesn't make the image any less real.
Song in my head: "My Boyfriend's Back" by ... the Chiffons? The Shirelles? Anyone? Anyone? (Hey-laa, lee-laa!)
And I am so. Fucking. Glad.
:: Di 11:34:00 PM [+] ::
:: Tuesday, February 10, 2004 ::
Do these CDs, from the 6th, 7th and 8th shelves of the 50-inch tower in my living room, say anything in particular about me, other than, "She has a fondness for certain soundtracks?"
Does it mean anything that I was counting down from the top rather than up from the bottom when I referred to which shelves these CDs were on? Is there any significance to the fact that of the 10 soundtracks pictured, 3 are from movies that I have not seen in their entirety — The Next Best Thing, Bram Stoker's Dracula and Dick — but bought the soundtracks primarily for a single song on each (Madonna's version of "American Pie," Annie Lennox's "Love Song to a Vampire" and George McRae's "Rock Your Baby" — a song which was irritatingly left OFF the Boys Don't Cry soundtrack)? Or that I saw only about 3 episodes of Felicity but adore many of the songs on that soundtrack?
Is it relevant that I own 2 of the movies — Boys Don't Cry and Girl, Interrupted — on DVD and 2 others —Foxfire and Chariots of Fire — on videotape? Am I wrong to feel a little embarrassed, somehow, over an Ally McBeal soundtrack being at the very top of the photo ... and yet oddly vindicated that Bob Dylan and R.E.M. are plainly visible, there at the bottom, as if those 2 artists/groups somehow validate my taste in music? (That's the Reckoning album, by the way.)
Would it negate the whole process if I admitted this was simply a test shot with the 6490, just to make sure that its focusing mechanism worked? I was a little concerned in the store, mainly because the shutter seemed particularly slow, and I wanted to be certain that the camera, indeed, took clear, sharp, in-focus pictures.
(This photo, taken from a distance of about 6 feet, was actually the very 2nd shot I took with the new camera. The 1st — a random telephoto attempt at the bottle of Shonfeld's chili-infused vinegar sitting on the window ledge in my kitchen — was out of focus. However, I forgot to use the flash.)
:: Di 3:20:00 PM [+] ::
I love my life, but I'm tired.
:: Saturday, February 07, 2004 ::
Bought the new digi-cam*, and I love it! Now, to get off my @$$ and do some serious FTP-ing to liven up this place.
* — Though I've never actually said the word** "digi-cam" out loud, I really like writing it that way.
** — Is "digi-cam" even a word? I mean, I've actually taken 2 words and force-fitted them together via the use of a hyphen; is there a word for when you do that?
I did actual "news editor" work tonight. Can't say yet whether I'm gonna like this job or not.
No worries, though. If I do, that's cool, and if not: Onwards and upwards!
If I ever had a son, I would name him Kal-El. I used to say Oliver Simon, but I've just changed my mind. Tonight.
Daughter? That's easy: Di Jr.
:: Di 12:51:00 AM [+] ::
:: Tuesday, February 03, 2004 ::
I am currently obsessed with finding a digital camera.
Not a big, honkin' digi-cam like the professionals use — although I am a quasi-professional (and a queasy-professional, thanks to that large chocolate shake I had from Steak 'n' Shake), and I could justify having one o' those kind, actually, thank you very much ... just can't really afford at at the moment.
I like being obsessed with electronics. I remember spending 6 months trying to find the "perfect" stereo, going in and out of this store and that before finally buying one for $250 from my friend Barbee, who was moving and wanted to get all new stuff. She sold me her 19-inch TV, too, for $30. All in all, a good day for me, electronically speaking.
Except for the hole in the top of the TV from where a candle had melted through. What the heck, I just put a picture over it. No biggie.
Anyway, I think I want this one.
:: Di 9:40:00 PM [+] ::
"If You Leave" song wasn't from The Breakfast Club ending. I'm thinking maybe Sixteen Candles, but I could be wrong.
I am losing my memory of the 1980s. And I am not sure I HAVE any memory of the 1990s. And as for the 2000s ... well, considering I lost an entire year of them in a fog and spent part of the rest of them in some kinda fucked-up something-or-other ... ask me later.
And bring back the 1970s.
Wait. I take that back. There are portions of that decade I would NEVER want to relive.
(There are portions of that decade I would NEVER wish on anyone.)
How 'bout the 1960s, then? No? Too turbulent?
May I revisit a decade I have never officially been a part of?
:: Di 2:55:00 PM [+] ::