tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003292845966937492024-03-12T19:19:50.371-04:00Muses and Rants of a Literary A(u)ntLiterary Auntiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225286164487490832noreply@blogger.comBlogger307125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-700329284596693749.post-976650989030323722018-09-17T10:52:00.001-04:002018-09-17T10:52:34.942-04:00the trashI have somehow managed to avoid all of the sexist trash on Twitter and Instagram for a while now.<br />
<br />
"Why, Sarah? What trash? Can you be more specific?"<br />
<br />
Oh, you know, just any time a person who identifies as or looks like a woman, or has a "feminine" username, gives an opinion about sexism. THAT trash.<br />
<br />
The "You don't understand" trash.<br />
The "You're just a butthurt feminazi" trash.<br />
The "I'm a woman, and I don't think I've experienced sexism, so I think sexism doesn't exist, and also fuck you for bringing it up" trash.<br />
The "If sexism does exist, it's Feminism's fault" trash.<br />
The "Shut up or I'll [insert vague threat here]" trash. (This is interchangeable with the legally less actionable but still awful "I hope someone [insert stronger threat here]" trash.)<br />
<br />
I could go on and on here. So many varieties of trash. Frustrating, insulting, dehumanizing trash.<br />
<br />
But lately I've been venturing out into the wilds of the internet, and I've gotten into a few skirmishes. I enjoy a good argument, but I've also encountered quite a bit of sexist bullshit (and I want to stress, I've encountered VERY LOW levels of bullshit, nowhere near the amount or strength of bullshit that people like <a href="https://twitter.com/JessicaValenti" target="_blank">Jessica Valenti</a> deal with on a daily basis). And most of it is the boring "You're a fat, ugly man-hater" type, which doesn't do much to ruffle my feathers.<br />
<br />
Lately I've been paying more attention to the "You're an immature female for wanting people to not be sexist" trash, like this:<br />
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Again, not much to ruffle my feathers. His original post was of the "Why would you bring up sexist language when there are<b> more serious issues</b>" trash variety, and with the tiniest bit of push back on that BS, he reverted immediately to really sad and bad insults about how childish and lonely and dowdy I am. Sure, whatever.<br />
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But what gets me is that, if you go to his Twitter page, you get the ALLY tweets:<br />
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Yes, it's a woman's world, as long as you don't question the dude who doesn't think it worth his time to be respectful of women. Just... the hypocrisy.<br />
<br />
<b>And again, this is a super mild example of daily trash that I see, usually not aimed at me.</b><br />
<br />
Anyway, since I'm having fun with it, let me give you more types of trash I've seen:<br />
<br />
The "You used 'mansplaining' in your reply, so you automatically lose the argument" trash.<br />
The "You're sexist for bringing up sexism" trash.<br />
The "You keep answering me, so you're obviously shook and crying and so upset, which is why women can't be in power" trash.<br />
The "Women are weak because you can't even handle death threats on the internet" trash.<br />
The "Who cares what you're talking about, I'm just going to answer with 'NOT ALL MEN'" trash.<br />
The "I'm going to say 'NOT ALL MEN' even though you specifically said that your tweet doesn't apply to all men" trash.<br />
The "I'm all for equal rights, but feminism has taken it too far" trash.<br />
The "Gender essentialism exists for a reason, and you should be prettier and skinnier and less mouthy" trash.<br />
The "I don't like what you say on the internet, so I'm going to doxx you and your family" trash.<br />
<br />
So many varieties of trash. And there are so many varieties of sexist trash that also intersect with racist trash, homophobic trash, transphobic trash, xenophobic trash... Smarter people than me have written about this and come up with possible solutions, but as we all know, so many people just want to be trashy edgelords on the internet. The good news is that I see a lot more people than I used to pushing back the trash in stronger and more interesting ways than I have the mental energy for. When I need a little internet reset, I like to browse for awesome arguments and clapbacks and what have you. And I like to give those people a little support, you know?Literary Auntiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06001206896932917595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-700329284596693749.post-34550046165780616692018-07-15T21:54:00.002-04:002018-07-15T21:54:50.920-04:00bosom companionsEvery time I remember that this blog exists, and decide that I want to write here (sorry, blog), I wonder if I should give some kind of big update about my life. But really, my life doesn't change that much, and you've heard it all before - I like my job, and I like to be home a lot with the cats, and I like my place to be clean and tidy, and I like to spend a lot of time with my family and friends. I like to read, and write in my journal, and walk, and drink tea and beer, and eat whatever I want, and I'm not into dating or dieting or travelling to exotic locales, or hearing unsolicited opinions about my life as I live it.<br />
<br />
So consider this my notice that my life goes on as usual when I'm not here writing about it.<br />
<br />
I think my one big update is that my bosom companions, Ami and Jon, are up and moving to Nashville, which is definitely going to change some things in my life. Ami is the one who gets me out of the house when I get a little too into being alone than is healthy, and she and Jon have been fellow concert-goers and fun-havers for years and years. Even just going to their apartment to hang out is quite a lovely social event for me. They actually hosted a wonderful 40th birthday party for me in June, and my friends and family came to celebrate with me, and there was such a great aura around the whole night, while I was experiencing it, and in my memory about it.<br />
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Oh, I guess that's another update - I turned 40, and it was pretty rad. And 40 is NOT the new 20, because I was a real dumbass at 20. Now I feel like I have this awesome, witchy energy, and no one can step to my witchy ass. So. 40 rocks and rules.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I'm already planning my first visit with Ami and Jon, and I know we'll talk all the time. I'm so happy that they are going to be nearer to Ami's sister, and growing their professional lives. I wish them all the happiness in the world. And I've already promised not to hermit too much.<br />
<br />
And at some point I'm going to have to swing down to San Antonio to visit another friend, Serife, who is moving away. I'm sad that I never got to teach her how to do makeup the Sarah way. (It's a LOT of color. Seriously, a lot.)<br />
<br />
*~*~*~*~*<br />
<br />
I was browsing through an email from Brandless.com about their new products, and I thought, "Ooh, recipe cards!" But then I looked at the cards, and they want PRECISE INGREDIENT INFORMATION, and I don't cook like that. And I don't know how many people the recipe will serve, and I don't measure, and every recipe changes every time I make it, subject to my whims.<br />
<br />
I do love Brandless, though. Everything on their site is $3, and everything I've gotten has been pretty good quality. And I do not get paid for this endorsement.<br />
<br />
*~*~*~*~*~*<br />
<br />
Even being a summer baby, I'm having a hard time with all of this heat. On Friday, I went to Rushford Lake with my friend Molly, and we had a great time swimming and hanging out. It was nice to swim in a smaller lake and to not let my open-water imagination get away from me - it's very influenced by "Jaws". But on the way home, my thighs starting burning (not in an enjoyable way), and later that night, I realized that I'd been scorched all along my shoulders and upper arms, and from my upper thighs down to the knee. Of course I was wearing SPF 70, rigorously reapplied throughout the day, but obviously the sunscreen didn't work for me. So all weekend I've been overheated and braless, suffering whenever I bend or sit back or lay in certain ways.<br />
<br />
None of this is helped by the high heat and humidity that we've been experiencing. I would normally go for a long walk after my Sunday cleaning spree, but today I couldn't fathom the idea of walking in 90 degree heat, with burned skin besides. So I've been sitting in front of a fan, trying to ignore my itchy back.<br />
<br />
And the cats have been flopping around wherever they can. For some reason, they prefer the hallway floor to in front of the fan with me. Floyd roams the house a bit more, moving from window to window to watch the birds and rabbits and neighbors, but poor, fluffy Charlotte just splays herself across the floor, occasionally stretching and rolling and showing off her belly before moving to a cooler stretch of floor.<br />
<br />
In short, we're kind of over summer. I especially can't wait to wear the black velvet lace-up shoes that I just bought. I'll wear them in the glorious, glorious autumn of my 40th year.<br />
<br />Literary Auntiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06001206896932917595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-700329284596693749.post-17014015959867527862018-04-30T22:26:00.000-04:002018-04-30T22:26:22.063-04:00without you, without youuuuu...I've always kind of enjoyed the shock on people's faces when I told them that I didn't have the internet at home. People would ask HOW I COULD EVEN LIVE! Even longtime friends who <i>knew</i> that I didn't have the internet would just kind of... forget that I was internet-free at home, and go on and on about this or that show that I could only stream online. And so I would remind them again, and get that "But how do you LIVE??" look.<br />
<br />
I lived without the internet for five years by looking at social media feeds on my phone, and by reading a ton of books and watching all of my DVDs. I have honestly never been bored; I can always think of something to do that doesn't involve the internet.<br />
<br />
I was also really resistant to Time Warner Cable, which is the only service I could get in Allentown or on the west side. Such crappy service! I refused to pay anything for it, even though people with clipboards would roam the neighborhood and say things like, "One of your neighbors was caught stealing the internet. This means we can give you a deal!" Yeah, no. Even when I moved to North Buffalo, and Time Warner merged with Comcast and became Spectrum, I heard awful things about their service, and I refused to pay for them.<br />
<br />
But on the flip side, I was buying a lot of music on Google Play, which I then had to transfer to my aging netbook, so that I could play it at home on iTunes. I bought an external drive that could hold a terabyte's worth of files, but any update or monthly backup would take at least a day. And then I couldn't update basic things on my laptop. Making physical CDs of my music was out of the question, because tracks would just go missing. I put up with this for a while, until I realized that I was spending quite a lot of leisure time at my mom's making sure that things were downloaded and backed up on a system that was doomed to perish. I kept saying that when I got a new laptop, I'd finally get the internet at home.<br />
<br />
I bought a new laptop in February (and laptops now have a friggin' terabyte of storage!), but signing up for the internet kept slipping my mind. I was too busy moving all of the pictures from my old laptop onto "the cloud," and trying to learn Windows 10.<br />
<br />
Still, my mom got all up into the Roku, and I confess that I got addicted too. I watched all of "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" within 3 months. And there were so many other movies and shows that I didn't have time for during weekends at my mom's.<br />
<br />
And lo and behold, I discovered that my neighborhood can get Verizon! And yeah, I don't know how installation works, so I got a little freaked out about it (and the box of supplies that Verizon sent me kept referring to self-installation). And yeah, the Verizon tech showed up at 8:30 in the morning on the day I picked, when I was still in bed, because it never occurred to me that I'd be first on the list of installations for the day. But whatever. Now I have internet. For the first time in five years.<br />
<br />
I'm very excited to get to a lot of things. But the very first thing I streamed was<br />
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<a href="https://www.uphe.com/sites/default/files/2015/04/To-Wong-Foo-Thanks-For-Everything-Julie-Newmar-Gallery-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="575" height="378" src="https://www.uphe.com/sites/default/files/2015/04/To-Wong-Foo-Thanks-For-Everything-Julie-Newmar-Gallery-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Yeah. The internet. It's rad.</div>
Literary Auntiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06001206896932917595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-700329284596693749.post-60161505334630606222018-04-09T12:30:00.002-04:002018-04-09T12:30:57.564-04:00inside of things<a href="https://www.buzzfeed.com/kevinsmith/the-inside-of-everyday-things-will-surprise-you?bfsource=bbf_enus&utm_term=.xrk0Z13YV#.agAAXyJQq" target="_blank">The bocce ball.</a><br />
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*~*~*~*~*<br />
<br />
I saw "<a href="http://www.vulture.com/2018/04/john-krasinski-a-quiet-place.html?utm_source=Sailthru&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Vulture-%20April%207%2C%202018&utm_term=Subscription%20List%20-%20Vulture%20%281%20Year%29" target="_blank">A Quiet Place</a>" this weekend, and it was excellent! Just 90 minutes of pure anxiety, with hardly a word spoken, and the film is beautiful to look at, even while you're waiting for the next tense moment. The buzz is correct, people.<br />
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*~*~*~*~*<br />
<br />
We are in Never-Ending Winter mode in Buffalo. This week we might get up to a balmy 55 degrees! I don't even know what I'll do with myself... wear a lighter jacket, I guess. I long ago gave up on snow boots and hats and scarves and gloves, not because I didn't feel the need for them, but because I couldn't deal with them anymore, no matter how cold I got. We've had snow almost every day for the last week and a half, but no real accumulation. But I just want to open my windows and get some fresh air into my life, without the Arctic Blast, and I know the kitties want it too. In his old age (he's 10 or so), Floyd has become quite the heat hog:<br />
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<img height="300" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/bZb9Q3X3E089yO1QvNLWIHYIc-57KiTZbG3T1Y0TEJAMsYZQO21W-A430yEFaCO3gCtE_wRa66u_eACuLjev3FiLjhxaxGMbOO4bAqDqbNYOh-ajSK3ed-WQanLIuYnZFnkO-dnI5mh8xS4SCLgfB_P2WICkqNbau0wxpuRnoygEees1_WAeVW4i10iW6v6GNksiYmX6M9mOiXQuCz3YQBFXuj6ouKSTfaypAXYnxw3Li35XqqlFIh8tZAaK4YBvdYFCcyA2vGjREqY_Zj3B5pHGGenCVXzEZafPjBbXgRNglLRcz_hfSP1v9FruHcJiOdAtiNYmvGLcvQqqQrJUtnmbz2N92yhnIx4TLPYQyr2Sfub5f3sejqmwh6byH5GqHSyeHm3isxe6GHXKgwQM1dJB3owv2q85XG1AUljut6PEGWwaul6On_mFtdJuj85L14BHLZy5J0Ak_ICe5ldgl4LVKhsXL6wVqzytw5_4gkc1du2qdH3sIfbzOy8-h8wcHpQNUJsDGFRLHDh-iaJo0nJe5i28HHYktaf2NSDCsDlWi9D6aY5rlwQO-wz5--Ftoju5yRPpCkbMMxWDpUEeG8LMQ0f37n_ZSy3-zes=w1050-h788-no" width="400" /><br />
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And I know that Charlotte wants to get up on the windowsills and start chirping back at the birds again:<br />
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<img height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/Ycz4hYIypwUuTgaRLDPQtYwZDFvr_b6fPGEPYa5CqQHZzKFt_PtBKFeVG5hskzhoXANz_vsRveU1y2qKmhNAXrQE2dWsEOfLSTbbVkYGSfWcJG7l0UIRpHMXt4u76SUCLPVSbGPj2-e3Vab6XCO-ejMY5R9XWaeL0VEUrkiuCO7iZkJfg4sRUWsueUQbFEoFsamXJe0baBf-8sCo9Gni9Gb5kqk3ljQmhE6gZu-xh5J_fSeT4UkBQZ6PBRNhiRQ_UMJW8h2XrqyeDmx9aT8FyfRSTCXCCWYLn8Y8YO8nXaYk4ZVuRn3Xr1lmL_57fGFPPOiDaN_IlxV--PEl8FGsuzwWcsdtUSx00JBRyJ_85V1SCTFt021YXo5P23HL9ME87WyTFhaH4LwP1EkErplesAX1W7SAk7IQLKvwmXGc1ERZrag8e_j3Taw7_0WRZICOjpHSIobxz_kDxl9irbQOywxX1zPoE0IcS30YG5Lbq24Gxt0G5CVtr0qQXhqRLb2J0kcvguaSY-oeTc0OSxW8Db65jIAGwW9tBnKWgATH5dmNb--MnDYgppDqGwbxzjsSneryM0FKp20BJwWXOoj0UTpTBF9HMmZxufcART4=w443-h788-no" width="224" /><br />
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So come on, Spring, and make my cats happy!<br />
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*~*~*~*~*~*<br />
<br />
I do have a wonderful art party, <a href="https://trimania.com/" target="_blank">Trimania</a>, to look forward to. I have attended this event several times, and it always makes me terribly happy. It helps to feed the arts side of me that I often forget to feed, plus there's beer, and bands and performances everywhere you turn.<br />
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*~*~*~*~*~*<br />
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<br />Literary Auntiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06001206896932917595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-700329284596693749.post-30357989179394745692017-12-06T10:18:00.001-05:002017-12-06T10:18:36.049-05:00winter? GUSTO.Buffalo is so bizarre. We're known as such a heavy snow area, and last night we were under a Winter Storm Warning (maybe a watch), with snow starting at 3 AM and falling steadily. It was supposed to affect the southtowns most, of course, but I was expecting at least a sprinkle when I woke up. The wind was shaking the house all night.<br />
<br />
When I went out to my car, there was a very apocalyptically pretty sky, with clouds banked to the south and west, and the sunrise coming in low. "Red light at morning", and all that. The wind was still rather fierce. But there was nothing on my car, and nothing on the ground. While I was driving down Delaware, I kept seeing cars with snow on the hood, coming from the south. But no snow for me.<br />
<br />
WHERE'S MY SNOW?!?<br />
<br />
Now we only have an advisory, and I am resigned to a lack of fluffy stuff near my place anytime soon.<br />
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*~*~*~*~*~*<br />
<br />
Recently I've been reflecting back to last year around this time, when life seemed to be a flurry of apartment hunting and money planning and freaking out on a regular basis. I was extremely bitter about <a href="https://literaryauntie.blogspot.com/2016/12/kicked-me-out-and-ruined-christmas.html" target="_blank">having to move</a>, how it all came about, and I was especially unhappy that I couldn't participate in the holidays with full GUSTO.<br />
<br />
This year I'm able to do full GUSTO holidays, and I find that I'm buying Christmas presents earlier, and I'm listening to holiday music earlier than I would usually (Sia's <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JPp-oLkQPQQ" target="_blank">Christmas album</a> is excellent). I helped mom put up her tree with GUSTO, even though the demon dust in her house attacked my sinuses with GUSTO. I promptly put up my Christmas decorations, with plans to buy more pretty soon. I am definitely feeling that holiday glow.<br />
<br />
And I'm happy to report that the cats are super into Christmas too. Floyd stalked around mom's tree impatiently while we put it up, and I had to kick him off of the tree skirt a few times while I was trying to tie it in place. His Christmas Room is all set up. And Charlotte took up right where Brian left off, "accidently" knocking ornaments off the tree and then batting them around the playroom while everyone is trying to sleep. They're feeling the holiday glow too.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEOKNBiZ81krYypgOtKSgDOSwGXnqup8WNtGL4sLW_OuofUeaMUtgdwZ5PfxhRNNTiuVei_vPn8nomW4lFDTQY9HcygjNyXq0O5agiDFGm3a2iI9d0CK_1r6EyWT9Kc3gi-mb5RwBIiwB9/s1600/my+tree.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="734" data-original-width="748" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEOKNBiZ81krYypgOtKSgDOSwGXnqup8WNtGL4sLW_OuofUeaMUtgdwZ5PfxhRNNTiuVei_vPn8nomW4lFDTQY9HcygjNyXq0O5agiDFGm3a2iI9d0CK_1r6EyWT9Kc3gi-mb5RwBIiwB9/s400/my+tree.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Tree</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNmqjw2pWHW443nCF3xQMoIk4E89htJGb6Bhm0K_n2cgXZWM0Jh6gi1OrHYdxqDmeG4JrvKHb93tukhoBaKsnNhyvSrkbtJAO6f-xM8shcCOWXySr6Hm_Hju7leIq5Z2YgdMYdrWAHBD_T/s1600/Mom%2527s+Tree.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="717" data-original-width="561" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNmqjw2pWHW443nCF3xQMoIk4E89htJGb6Bhm0K_n2cgXZWM0Jh6gi1OrHYdxqDmeG4JrvKHb93tukhoBaKsnNhyvSrkbtJAO6f-xM8shcCOWXySr6Hm_Hju7leIq5Z2YgdMYdrWAHBD_T/s640/Mom%2527s+Tree.JPG" width="499" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama's Tree</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Literary Auntiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06001206896932917595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-700329284596693749.post-30931246361753823742017-08-10T10:54:00.002-04:002017-08-10T10:54:44.757-04:00Smilla's Sense of Snow<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "georgia" , serif;">I was reading through <a href="http://www.vulture.com/2017/08/amber-tamblyns-10-favorite-books.html?utm_source=Sailthru&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Vulture%20-%20August%209%2C%202017&utm_term=Subscription%20List%20-%20Vulture%20%281%20Year%29" target="_blank">this list</a> of Amber Tamblyn's favorite books, and not to spoil it for you, but <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/124509.Smilla_s_Sense_of_Snow?ac=1&from_search=true" target="_blank">Smilla's Sense of Snow</a> made the list!! "Smilla" is one of my favorite novels as well; not only is the mystery enthralling, but I think that this is the first time I can remember a female character being unlikeable and prickly, and not really caring what anyone thought. Or, as Amber Tamblyn put it, "</span><span style="color: #111111; font-family: "georgia" , serif;"> </span><span style="color: #111111; font-family: "georgia" , serif;">The lead character goes from being an inquisitive, quiet girl to a violent, powerful force by the end of the book, all while solving a murder that keeps unfolding new twists and turns."</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/b/b5/Smillaposter.jpg/220px-Smillaposter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="329" data-original-width="220" height="400" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/b/b5/Smillaposter.jpg/220px-Smillaposter.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "georgia" , serif;">My mom got HBO Now so that she could watch Game of Thrones, and I scrolled through the available movies after we watched the latest episode on Sunday. I was SO excited when I saw that the movie version of "Smilla" was on there, because Netflix didn't have it, even in disc. I made sure to watch the movie on Monday, and mom really liked it, and even Owen paid attention for most of the movie. I love Julia Ormond, who was perfect as Smilla, and the movie followed the book pretty closely. And I loved Gabriel Byrne as the mechanic, although Owen kept yelling about my "old boyfriend with the white beard." </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "georgia" , serif;">Um...</span><br />
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<a href="https://resizing.flixster.com/dCCCMEe1VSJRA-jhFcoxkZCxc5c=/300x300/v1.bjs3MjkxNTk7ajsxNzQyMzsxMjAwOzI0MDA7MTgwMA" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" height="400" src="https://resizing.flixster.com/dCCCMEe1VSJRA-jhFcoxkZCxc5c=/300x300/v1.bjs3MjkxNTk7ajsxNzQyMzsxMjAwOzI0MDA7MTgwMA" width="400" /></a></div>
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...I DON'T THINK SO!!</div>
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...I really don't. </div>
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This is the point in the summer when I tend to start longing for snow and cold, just a little, subconsciously. My waking mind is getting excited for autumn and falling leaves and pumpkin beers and Halloween, but my dreams start to have a snowy, dark backdrop. Instead of searching for hazy summer images, I want chill starkness.</div>
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Perfection. </div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>Literary Auntiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06001206896932917595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-700329284596693749.post-63301202581983504542017-07-17T09:04:00.003-04:002017-07-17T09:04:30.110-04:00Oh, CharlotteI was just thinking this morning about how much Charlotte has changed from when she first came home with me. She stayed at mom's house for that first weekend, and it was one of those winter weekends when literally everyone was home all the time, lumbering around the house, so Charlotte hid in the laundry room the whole weekend. I had to visit and feed her in there, and guard her food from Roy. I just tried to get her used to my smell and my voice.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjYVCBXo2krF7VvF6yARI9iXW0KObSNXDjX6WD6sasWF3uQIElwUPGEoyZzo8W_CcxioTxIWhvdvOQbPONt_y_i6azcD9C3KswQ-w65RVvYiHp-ysyKLE9Pdj5WJwuJ3j4FttkD4VDl4ZD/s1600/Charlotte+bed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="612" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjYVCBXo2krF7VvF6yARI9iXW0KObSNXDjX6WD6sasWF3uQIElwUPGEoyZzo8W_CcxioTxIWhvdvOQbPONt_y_i6azcD9C3KswQ-w65RVvYiHp-ysyKLE9Pdj5WJwuJ3j4FttkD4VDl4ZD/s400/Charlotte+bed.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I brought her to my house, and she met Floyd, who acted like an intimidating jerk for a while. So Charlotte just kind of ignored him and scoped out good hiding spots around my house - the little "shelf" on the back of the futon was her favorite. She would stay in these spots for most of the day. She would act pleased when I "found" her, and she would come out for pets for a few minutes, and then I would do something too scary, like walking out of the room, and she would hide again.<br />
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Nowadays, Charlotte goes where she wants and does what she wants in my apartment. She's not allowed in Floyd's cat bed (yes, she has tried to share it with him), but she has claimed the entire futon as her own. If I ask her to share it, I can sit down and read, and she will allow this, as long as she can be touching me at all times. She also cuddles with me in bed and follows me into the bathroom. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO0fWY7G1sfvFxLlFuDgnGYghqIKCZ7AdYasIAs4yVNlbXsnb-_iah3jvV-TVEZUAQjmzclw5ueOjXfAAz4Jaf6npNeHdFS6yAmOza3BCQNzn_Fy2XA2QqsPM8KSHVrvmCG8KnHPB9AKns/s1600/Char+Futon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="612" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO0fWY7G1sfvFxLlFuDgnGYghqIKCZ7AdYasIAs4yVNlbXsnb-_iah3jvV-TVEZUAQjmzclw5ueOjXfAAz4Jaf6npNeHdFS6yAmOza3BCQNzn_Fy2XA2QqsPM8KSHVrvmCG8KnHPB9AKns/s400/Char+Futon.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Charlotte still has issues when she's on the floor and I walk toward her, and sometimes she runs, but she never hides for long. The vacuum cleaner is her only real fear within my apartment (car rides and OUTSIDE are a whole other ball of wax).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-qWXjr_LCBnZAY_7pdx43cXML8XYsvYmCLa_WoUemc9wsP0IQERedtQlGTbwWR7oVc6JYGHffTgDibRG3cGeLVjYw8qZBI1wSz02jYXd2X9OZur91ENMaGhHrslkrifdWhCp37iVESrfn/s1600/Char+Floyd+Cat+bed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="612" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-qWXjr_LCBnZAY_7pdx43cXML8XYsvYmCLa_WoUemc9wsP0IQERedtQlGTbwWR7oVc6JYGHffTgDibRG3cGeLVjYw8qZBI1wSz02jYXd2X9OZur91ENMaGhHrslkrifdWhCp37iVESrfn/s400/Char+Floyd+Cat+bed.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Floyd likes to come with me to the basement while I do laundry, and I've tried to get Charlotte interested in this too, just to expand her horizons a bit, but it was so distressing for her - stepping out onto the landing would make her yowl with fear, and she would scramble back into the apartment. So I stopped trying to entice her out. But yesterday I left my apartment door open while I went down to put clothes in the dryer, and when I came back up the stairs, Charlotte was at the top, staring down at me kind of defiantly. She didn't go down the stairs, but when we were back in my apartment, she swaggered around like she had conquered Mount Everest. Just strutting with her stocky, big body and her pantaloons, so proud of herself.<br />
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I thought we had turned a corner in terms of Charlotte being afraid of new things. But then, this morning, I had the audacity to put the cat food in a new bowl, which is shallower and wider and blue. And Charlotte was afraid of it, walking around it in big arcs, low to the ground, waiting to see if it attacked her. I had to ruffle the food with my fingers and let her sniff me before she would eat from the bowl.<br />
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Oh, Charlotte.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqZDEkyPzX6UWqvoFtdetWG4FiamvqhALUROy4VidT2-63AiUHP_0rpXuNvk57YdTleHcKNIaxAOgc5yhjO9Bb1Nv-5mYj-dZl8PjsnNAlw0syXiAzU5Pyo3pyc0ucsUlCIMzc1G1y-9jw/s1600/Char+relaxed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="612" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqZDEkyPzX6UWqvoFtdetWG4FiamvqhALUROy4VidT2-63AiUHP_0rpXuNvk57YdTleHcKNIaxAOgc5yhjO9Bb1Nv-5mYj-dZl8PjsnNAlw0syXiAzU5Pyo3pyc0ucsUlCIMzc1G1y-9jw/s400/Char+relaxed.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Literary Auntiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06001206896932917595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-700329284596693749.post-58961440854029281132017-04-20T13:44:00.000-04:002017-04-20T13:44:04.763-04:00Perma-tense<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Pardon
me while I ease myself in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Last I
wrote, I was getting ready to move on short notice, for me – I fundamentally do
not understand people who can pick up their lives and move far away at the drop
of a hat! I like to take a good 6 months to contemplate moving, and to
sloooooowly plan how the packing will go, and I like to CHOOSE to move. In a
perfect world…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I spent
a lot of the winter freaking out and having anxiety, and losing a bit of my
hair due to stress, but I got through the move. I got through the move while
dealing with random car troubles, and trying to avoid Landlord Meaney as much
as possible. I found another small, lovely apartment in North Buffalo, well below
market value. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I was able to fend off Landlord Meaney’s attempts to mess with me while I was
moving. I countered all of her considerable bullshit with facts – yes, I
checked the city’s website, and I CAN leave a couch on the curb for trash
pick-up. No, you CANNOT charge me $200 to repaint an apartment that you should
be repainting anyway. I wanted to scream in her face, but I held off and stayed reasonable, even when
she was finally handing me my full security deposit and blathering on that she was
sorry about everything, I seemed like a good tenant, blah blah blah.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Once I
moved and started to feel better about life, my poor Brian died. I spent most
of the fall being worried about him, because he had more dental work, and then
he was just constantly battling colds and dehydration, and maybe the move was
too much, or maybe it was his time. So I said goodbye to him on a Saturday in
February. And I buried him in my mother’s backyard, where he loved to climb the
trees and eat the grass.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Now. I
had a doozy of a winter. But even while I was stressing and crying and grieving
both my beloved cat and my old, beloved apartment, I was so grateful for all of
the love that I was getting. <i>Multiple</i>
Secret Santas popped up during my move, to lift my spirits and make me cry with
happiness. I was getting offers of help from all quarters, even though I’m
horrible about asking for help. And when Brian died, I couldn’t believe how
many people reached out to say that they’d miss the Facebook and Instagram
posts about him – not just “Sorry for your loss,” but “Damn, he was
entertaining, and I loved hearing about him!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I miss
Brian very much; I also recognize that Floyd gets way too clingy when he’s
an only cat, so I took in a new cat earlier than I normally would have. Her
name is Charlotte, and she is young and sassy and fluffy and lovely, and she
loves Floyd and seems to like me. She likes to hide, and we’re working through
some fear issues she has, but she is getting braver and more used to me. Last
weekend, she had her first full visit to mom’s house, including mom’s backyard,
and she found some hiding places that work for her, and she had some definite
fun, and she aggressively kneaded my mom and mom’s bed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwgl01zUqnxx7yM9OGLu9oouA6yPVCX-cCot4WI0BnUhP0ZePzwAgcJTXOsQFfxfz7EoRaPqtmv-um2p2tr4SIsLlBxiOO1qeNhQ5Z1xTj0zmbkmjlyqBHNLCLLHrZzGkPQk2vlb0eMbHc/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwgl01zUqnxx7yM9OGLu9oouA6yPVCX-cCot4WI0BnUhP0ZePzwAgcJTXOsQFfxfz7EoRaPqtmv-um2p2tr4SIsLlBxiOO1qeNhQ5Z1xTj0zmbkmjlyqBHNLCLLHrZzGkPQk2vlb0eMbHc/s400/unnamed.jpg" width="223" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlotte Fluffy Pantaloons</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxmbNlPc4rHw8QphLkG1LJIHpxxtMI9S51CyWtc1jHmWkGJjiB-pUbzr9vr6G2Qbs852yNGcy6D6XwwDWvQeO7EOHaK1ckCJt75WviRkCO4CW6PzcJaoIz5TTiInxrOWQJGl3KszGHTeKE/s1600/WP_20170414_10_43_39_Pro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxmbNlPc4rHw8QphLkG1LJIHpxxtMI9S51CyWtc1jHmWkGJjiB-pUbzr9vr6G2Qbs852yNGcy6D6XwwDWvQeO7EOHaK1ckCJt75WviRkCO4CW6PzcJaoIz5TTiInxrOWQJGl3KszGHTeKE/s400/WP_20170414_10_43_39_Pro.jpg" width="223" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">taking it in</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">As for
my apartment, it is finished and very much me, full of books and movies and
candles and all of my pretty things. Some would call it cluttered, but I love it.
And since my old couch would never fit through the door, I found a new,
gorgeous purple futon. My landlords live upstairs and are great, and I don’t
seem to have any problem neighbors.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">In fact,
emotionally, I don’t know what to do with myself. Work is great, my car is doing OK, and my living situation
is quiet and calm. My friends and family remain awesome. More than one person
has asked me what I’ll rant about now that I’m not dealing with horrible
bosses, roommates, and neighbors. For several years, there was always at least
one thing, one large area of my life, that didn’t seem to be working correctly,
and I guess my default setting was to be constantly on watch for the next round
of fuckery. And now I’m trying to convince my brain that it doesn’t need to be on
high alert all the time. Being in a constant state of “I dare you to start with
me” can you make you kind of perma-tense, but now that I can finally relax
fully, I guess I need to learn how. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Until
then, I can always rant about politics.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Literary Auntiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06001206896932917595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-700329284596693749.post-53991863084460617432016-12-01T15:27:00.001-05:002016-12-28T10:31:24.017-05:00kicked me out and ruined Christmas<div class="MsoNormal">
The internet has called 2016 a “dumpster fire” of a year,
and I have to agree. I don’t even want to get into all of the heartbreaking
instances of just… I mean… yeah, I don’t.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then there was this: on Election Night, I met with my
new landlord, who apparently had some issues with my old landlord (I was not at
all a part of any of this, and in fact I didn’t know for sure that the building
was being sold until late September). My new landlord went on about how nice
and chill she was, and that she wanted to have a hangout lounge in the attic,
and gardens in the backyard, and we would all be best friends, and I would get
a new bathroom…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It all seemed fine, new landlord would be living in the
building, and would see that I am a good, clean, quiet tenant, and would want
to keep me. Awesome, right? WELL.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
About a week after our little meeting, I got a text from new
landlord, telling me that my rent would be going up $100 a month in March, and
that I needed to let her know if I planned on sticking around by the end of
November. Uh… I asked why the rent was going up so much, and received a snotty
response that she could actually get a lot more for my apartment. She then said
that her son wanted my apartment, but she was giving me the first shot at keeping
it. Before I could even wrap my mind around all of this fuckery I was receiving
over TEXT MESSAGE, she said, you know what, never mind, I am "going to make it easy for everyone" (her exact words) and not renew your
lease in March, and if you really want to help me out, you can move out before
your bathroom gets gutted in February.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I got all of this over text message, over an hour and a
half, on a Monday afternoon while I was at work. Needless to say, I was upset. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Even better, a week later new landlord texted me: “I’m sorry
this is happening to you. I’m sorry I’m causing you distress. I wish things
were different.” Um, this woman tried to price me out of the apartment that she
knew I loved, and then kicked me out when I wanted to think about the
significant price raise, AFTER she said she’d give me three whole weeks to
think about it. And there she was, spewing her bullshit feelings all over me
after screwing me over!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So much of my sense of well-being is wrapped up in having a
stable home life, which for me means living alone in a cozy, clean, quiet
little self-made cave with my two kitties. I loved my little jewel box of an
apartment, which felt like it was made for me, and I told new landlord how much
I hate to move when we had our "best friends" meeting. And now I get to move in the middle of winter, and it’s not my
choice!!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I also have the anxiety of trying to find a place, no
landlords are getting back to me, and I have to save up enough money for this move on my single lady, non-profit salary, and the place has to be cool with cats,
and I am flipping my shit on a regular basis. The other night I went to see an
apartment that was in my price range, and in a great neighborhood. It was tiny,
dingy with decades of dirt, and stinky, and it depressed me. It was not a
livable space. I’m going to see another place on Sunday, but I don’t understand
why I don’t have two or three more apartments to see – why won’t people get
back to me so that I can just have one thing decided?!?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The worst part, for me – besides losing my lovely apartment
to my mean landlord’s son - is that I won’t be able to buy presents for
Christmas. Buying thoughtful presents for my loved ones is honestly one of my
favorite things about the holidays, but it’s not happening this year, and it
breaks my heart. I know that everyone will understand, but it breaks my heart. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m sure that, come mid- to late January, I’ll be settled
into a new place, one that I will make my cozy cave. I’ll be away from new
landlord and from CAN, with his panoply of mental health issues, and all of
this stress and anxiety will be a semi-distant memory. But right now, I’m
having a hard time, and I’m sharing it with the world. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
In short: Mean landlord kicked me out and ruined Christmas. <o:p></o:p></div>
Literary Auntiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06001206896932917595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-700329284596693749.post-47870046177366154542016-09-26T11:18:00.000-04:002016-09-26T11:18:38.229-04:00in the meantime...<div class="gmail_default" style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: small;">
I was going through my Facebook memories last week and thinking, HUH, I sure do get sick a lot at this time of year. And just when I patted myself on the back for being fairly healthy now, my stomach decided to go rogue last Thursday night.</div>
<div class="gmail_default" style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: small;">
<br /></div>
<div class="gmail_default" style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: small;">
So while I was laying around at home on Friday, with Floyd impersonating a hot-water bottle on my lower stomach, I found out that my landlords sold the house, and that a new owner would be honoring my lease through April. I suspected that all of this was coming, because there have been so many "house inspections" this summer, and because a dude moved out of the front apartment a while ago, and no one moved in. Last week (or the week before... time blurs), the woman who lives above me moved out. And the other tenant who is still in the building has been freaking out for months about the house being sold. And she "contacted a lawyer, and the landlord knew about it!" This tenant is kind of anxiousness personified, and I found it a bit odd that her first instinct was to believe that her landlord would screw her over. I've known of awful landlords - my mom had truly awful landlords before her current house, so bad that I studied up on New York State tenant law to try and help her - and my landlords don't fit the bill. I decided to wait and see instead of getting all worked up.</div>
<div class="gmail_default" style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: small;">
<br /></div>
<div class="gmail_default" style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: small;">
Anyway, since I was feeling poorly when I got the New Landlord News, I didn't have the energy for a full anxiety meltdown myself, and then I had Saturday to process and think of pros and cons - my lease is up in April, and hopefully the new landlord will be awesome, but if I do have to move, at least I'll be moving away from CAN, and maybe I can check out another neighborhood in the city... and then yesterday morning I found out that the new owner is a woman who will also be living in our building, which actually made me feel a lot better. So I am hopeful, but also I'll be paying attention to whether I should start saving up toward another move. I'm hoping that MAYBE I will become BFFs with the new owner, and she'll be a good ally against CAN, since I'm sure she'll be experiencing his bullshit, being female and all. Or, more realistically, she'll realize I'm a good tenant, and want to keep me around instead of pricing me out of the apartment that I still love, after 3 and a half years.</div>
<div class="gmail_default" style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: small;">
<br /></div>
<div class="gmail_default" style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: small;">
Meanwhile, I'll focus on Halloween and enjoying my favorite season. Pumpkin beers all around!</div>
<div class="gmail_default" style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: small;">
<br /></div>
<div class="gmail_default" style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: small;">
I am absolutely loving this cooler weather. I'm relaxing better (with cats all over me), and sleeping better (with cats all over me) and breathing better and walking better. At home, I still have some windows cracked for fresh air, but with strategic windows closed, I can't hear CAN ranting and raving from inside his house, which is always a bonus. And if the cold continues, maybe he'll close HIS window and calm the fuck down. I honestly haven't seen him outside, in his backyard or otherwise, for a while, but I always hear him bitching about all of the people who he hates in the neighborhood. According to him, I am a tramp who doesn't know how to be a lady, and I'm not as smart as I think I am... I could hear him throwing absolute fits on Friday because I didn't go to work, how dare I! In my Facebook memories, I noticed that CAN goes way off-track at this time of year. Maybe he gets the fall equinox blues, with some kind of paranoid component. If past years have been any indication, after a while I won't have any problems with him for 4 to 6 months, and then it'll all start over again, WHEEEEEEE.</div>
<div class="gmail_default" style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: small;">
<br /></div>
<div class="gmail_default" style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: small;">
Anyway, layering. Halloween. Scary movies. FALL. </div>
Literary Auntiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06001206896932917595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-700329284596693749.post-37706778384418770072016-07-26T08:40:00.001-04:002016-07-26T08:58:55.522-04:00a review of "Single White Vampire" by Lynsay SandsI had so much fun writing this review for Goodreads that I thought I'd share it here. Honestly, it's the only fun to be had out of this book.<br />
<br />
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~<br />
<br />
This is a book that I definitely should not have bothered finishing. I thought it was going to be a fluffy summer read. Instead, I was either bored or annoyed for most of the novel, but for some reason, even though I know better, I kept hoping that the story would pick up. It did not. I remained bored and/or annoyed.<br />
<br />
There are several times when a dumb joke goes way too far, because you can tell that the author finds it hilarious. For instance, the main character Kate, who presumably grew up with a working knowledge of pop culture and lives in New York City, repeatedly refers to "doobies" as "debbies," and this is supposed to be funny and endearing and cute. Instead, it's insulting to the reader. Another time, the author spends several pages discussing a codpiece that has become stuck to a tablecloth. Ha ha ha! Still another time, the author spends several pages on what is apparently supposed to be some kind of slapstick search for condoms. "His plan - he began to worship her body - was to drag out the foreplay until the condoms arrived." Later on: "This condom business could really put a crimp in the act of lovemaking." Seriously? This is supposed to be entertaining? CONDOMS, amirite?<br />
<br />
Lucern's vampirism is explained with half-assed wannabe science, which Kate has a firm grasp on, but then inexplicably forgets later in the book, for no good reason. Of course, at that point she hilariously ponders whether she might be a necrophiliac. So funny! And the "romance" often made me cringe. I sensed no discernable spark between Lucern and Kate, but suddenly (the author tells us), BOOM, connection. I don't consider this a spoiler, because it's right on the back cover.<br />
<br />
Since the author has a tendency to lazily over-explain pretty much everything you can think of, it sort of makes sense that she would just tell you that the characters were in love, rather than "showing" you, as a good writer would.<br />
<br />
Some other cringeworthy things - Kate comparing Lucern's emotional opening up to her to a turtle extending beyond its shell (so romantic). And this description, which caused me to put the book down and stare at the wall opposite me, wondering if I really just read that: "She had rosy nipples, which topped breasts pointing at him like a pair of binoculars. He wanted to reach out and grasp them as he would binoculars, but rather than look through them, he wanted desperately to lick and suck and..."<br />
<br />
Hey, you know what's hot? NOTHING IN THIS BOOK.<br />
<br />
EDITED TO INCLUDE: Oh yeah, and Kate's homophobic. She disgustedly wonders if Lucern is gay, and when she has what she considers visual "proof" of this, she calls him a pervert. How could I have forgotten this?!? Awful, awful, awful.Literary Auntiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06001206896932917595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-700329284596693749.post-69619193440684749472016-06-30T11:32:00.000-04:002016-06-30T11:32:06.785-04:00Facebook MemoriesEight years ago today, I posted on Facebook that I really liked my new job, but maybe it was too soon to say that.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Eight years later, with the benefit of<a href="http://literaryauntie.blogspot.com/2010/01/so-much-better-now.html" target="_blank"> hindsight</a>, I can say <a href="http://literaryauntie.blogspot.com/2009/07/timeline-of-my-day.html" target="_blank">HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA</a>! Yes, it was WAY too soon to pass judgment on that job. Indeed, later that day, the woman I was replacing, and another woman who was resigning, completely <a href="http://literaryauntie.blogspot.com/2009/07/one-more-day.html" target="_blank">unloaded</a> on me about how dysfunctional the tiny office was. These two women could barely draw breath, they were talking so fast, talking over each other, trying to warn me away. The office problems were due to the<a href="http://literaryauntie.blogspot.com/2009/09/pointed-post.html" target="_blank"> executive director's</a> need for drama and her penchant for trying to play her employees against each other. You can imagine how <a href="http://literaryauntie.blogspot.com/2009/05/very-bad-day.html" target="_blank">poisonous</a> the environment felt, in an office of four people.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I lasted there thirteen months, I think, before being <a href="http://literaryauntie.blogspot.com/2009/08/completely-bizarre.html" target="_blank">"let go"</a> because even though I was the most excellent worker ever, I wasn't a good fit. Damn right, I wasn't. No job is without problems, but that job made me feel like I was being smothered by life. The very air in that tiny, charming office (at the back of a church in a picturesque neighborhood) seemed to disagree with me. When I was at work, I was miserable. When I wasn't at work, I tended to worry about work, at fuckery I knew was coming, and I was miserable. The artsy, society-improving, "perfect" non-profit job for me was actually the worst job I've ever had. And I used to scrape gum off of desks!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I've been at my current job for six and a half years now. Another non-profit, bigger, better organized. Again, no job is without problems, but this is the first job in which I've felt that my skills are being used in a way that is actually<i> good for me</i>. Soul-sucking bullshit is at a minimum. I'm not treated like a skilled robot who shouldn't feel normal human emotions. True, sometimes people tell me to calm down, but I am passionate about my <i>job</i>, about what I'm contributing. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I feel a bit retroactively sorry for the me who was so bright-eyed and excited eight years ago. I know what's coming for her. I know she's about to go through some serious soul-sucking bullshit. But I know that I'm better now for all of the bullshit I went through. I'm experienced, I know the warning signs to watch out for, and I'm still showing up, happy to be here. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And really, what else can you ask for?</div>
Literary Auntiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06001206896932917595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-700329284596693749.post-6722970492978946822016-05-05T11:18:00.000-04:002016-05-05T11:18:35.939-04:00when I feel like being freaked out<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Last night I was scrolling through an old Thought Catalog article, reading creepy stories and generally freaking myself out. And now I can't get the first story out of my head, so herewith I share it with you:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"<span style="background-color: white;">About five years ago I lived downtown in a major city in the US. I’ve always been a night person, so I would often find myself bored after my roommate, who was decidedly not a night person, went to sleep. To pass the time, I used to go for long walks and spend the time thinking.</span></span><br />
<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 20px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I spent four years like that, walking alone at night, and never once had a reason to feel afraid. I always used to joke with my roommate that even the drug dealers in the city were polite. But all of that changed in just a few minutes of one evening.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 20px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It was a Wednesday, somewhere between one and two in the morning, and I was walking near a police patrolled park quite a ways from my apartment. It was a quiet night, even for a week night, with very little traffic and almost no one on foot. The park, as it was most nights, was completely empty.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 20px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I turned down a short side street in order to loop back to my apartment when I first noticed him. At the far end of the street, on my side, was the silhouette of a man, dancing. It was a strange dance, similar to a waltz, but he finished each “box” with an odd forward stride. I guess you could say he was dance-walking, headed straight for me.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 20px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Deciding he was probably drunk, I stepped as close as I could to the road to give him the majority of the sidewalk to pass me by. The closer he got, the more I realized how gracefully he was moving. He was very tall and lanky, and wearing an old suit. He danced closer still, until I could make out his face. His eyes were open wide and wild, head tilted back slightly, looking off at the sky. His mouth was formed in a painfully wide cartoon of a smile. Between the eyes and the smile, I decided to cross the street before he danced any closer.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 20px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I took my eyes off of him to cross the empty street. As I reached the other side, I glanced back… and then stopped dead in my tracks. He had stopped dancing and was standing with one foot in the street, perfectly parallel to me. He was facing me but still looking skyward. Smile still wide on his lips.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 20px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">?I was completely and utterly unnerved by this. I started walking again, but kept my eyes on the man. He didn’t move.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 20px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Once I had put about half a block between us, I turned away from him for a moment to watch the sidewalk in front of me. The street and sidewalk ahead of me were completely empty. Still unnerved, I looked back to where he had been standing to find him gone. For the briefest of moments I felt relieved, until I noticed him. He had crossed the street, and was now slightly crouched down. I couldn’t tell for sure due to the distance and the shadows, but I was certain he was facing me. I had looked away from him for no more than 10 seconds, so it was clear that he had moved fast.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 20px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was so shocked that I stood there for some time, staring at him. And then he started moving toward me again. He took giant, exaggerated tip toed steps, as if he were a cartoon character sneaking up on someone. Except he was moving very, very quickly.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 20px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I’d like to say at this point I ran away or pulled out my pepper spray or my cellphone or anything at all, but I didn’t. I just stood there, completely frozen as the smiling man crept toward me.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />And then he stopped again, about a car length away from me. Still smiling his smile, still looking to the sky.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 20px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When I finally found my voice, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. What I meant to ask was, “What the fuck do you want?!” in an angry, commanding tone. What came out was a whimper, “What the fuu…?”<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Regardless of whether or not humans can smell fear, they can certainly hear it. I heard it in my own voice, and that only made me more afraid. But he didn’t react to it at all. He just stood there, smiling.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 20px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And then, after what felt like forever, he turned around, very slowly, and started dance-walking away. Just like that. Not wanting to turn my back to him again, I just watched him go, until he was far enough away to almost be out of sight. And then I realized something. He wasn’t moving away anymore, nor was he dancing. I watched in horror as the distant shape of him grew larger and larger. He was coming back my way. And this time he was running.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 20px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I ran too.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 20px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I ran until I was off of the side road and back onto a better lit road with sparse traffic. Looking behind me then, he was nowhere to be found. The rest of the way home, I kept glancing over my shoulder, always expecting to see his stupid smile, but he was never there.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I lived in that city for six months after that night, and I never went out for another walk. There was something about his face that always haunted me. He didn’t look drunk, he didn’t look high. He looked completely and utterly insane. And that’s a very, very scary thing to see."</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">(here are the rest of the stories: <a href="http://thoughtcatalog.com/michael-koh/2013/10/66-creepy-ass-stories-that-will-ruin-your-day/" target="_blank">66 Creepy-Ass Stories</a>)</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: minion-pro, Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 24px;">
<br /></div>
Literary Auntiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06001206896932917595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-700329284596693749.post-90907382080290605622016-04-15T10:47:00.001-04:002016-04-15T10:47:39.275-04:00night fearsI know the factors that can be blamed for my night of nightmares - I worked late, and got home late, and ate very late (for me) last night. The greasiness of the bacon and the over-buttered nature of the rye toast probably didn't help. And I've been working late a lot, overstimulated and under-rested this week especially. And I did watch an episode of Hannibal before going to bed.<br />
<br />
And as I drifted off, I thought: There's a certain kind of bright, sunny day that's terrifying to me. It happens in high summer, when the sun is so strong that it washes out the color of things, and the shadows are inky black in comparison. I can be warm and content, but underneath there is always a frisson of electric fear. I've never been entirely sure where this feeling comes from. A dream I had, a movie I saw, a book I read. That's what I was thinking about when I went to sleep.<br />
<br />
I had dreams about violent deaths and violent hauntings... all very fragmented and horrible. I woke up and vividly imagined a torn-up woman entering my room. Not a zombie, but a dead, thinking, aware and malevolent being who wished me very, very ill. Shuffling with purpose toward my bed out of the darkness of the hallway, into the blue glow of my alarm clock. I fell asleep before I could dispel the image with any sort of reason or happy thoughts.<br />
<br />
My last dream is the one I remember the best. I had been cursed somehow, and in the palm of my right hand, there was a bunch of wrinkled flesh. If I pulled the wrinkles back, an eye would open. It was clouded over; it was evil. It was infecting me. I knew a witch who had apparently taken care of a palm-eye problem for me before, with some arcane mixture of magic and chemicals. She wanted to make sure of something about the eye before she dealt with it again, so I had to abide this evil eye in my right hand for a while longer. I put my hand under running water and watched the eye open wide and stare at me as the diseased flesh of my palm pruned around it.<br />
<br />
When I woke up this morning, I could still feel the eye in my hand. It was weighty and foreign in my fist. I can still feel it now.Literary Auntiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06001206896932917595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-700329284596693749.post-60103675329640635062016-02-16T11:34:00.000-05:002016-02-16T11:34:24.722-05:00WintersI spent the long weekend at my mom's house, hanging out with the family, playing video games, and taking the cats outside every day. Well, I took Brian outside - Floyd wants no part of the snow. Brian and me, we mostly stood outside for a few minutes and then came in, but there was one day when Brian climbed a tree and then got "stuck."<br />
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...It was kind of the cutest thing ever. I love that he likes the snow.<br />
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Since I knew it would be very cold while I was gone, I left a trickle on in my bathtub, in which the pipes are prone to freezing, Sure enough, I came home last night to find that my tub tap could only manage a trickle when I turned it all the way on. It's hard for me to be patient... I wanted to do battle with the pipes, with my hair dryer in hand, but the X-Files was about to come on.<br />
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So I had to be patient. And then I decided to see if the hot water trickle could work through the ice if I let it work all night long. I kept waking up, hoping to hear the water at full power, fearful that I'd miss it and waste a ton of water. But really, you can't miss that sound. SO LOUD at 5:30 AM, and I was so happy to hear it!<br />
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Our winter has been pretty mild up until this weekend, so I was kind of happy to shovel this morning. The snow keeps on falling, so I may be shoveling this evening as well, although I can always hope that one of the people in my building decides to help out.</div>
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And then a night of cat cuddles.</div>
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The only dark spot in my winter happiness is CAN. He continues being a harassing asshole. A few weeks ago, I actually contacted the police because he got in my face as I was leaving for work and started snapping cell phone pictures. I asked what the hell he was doing, and he said he was taking my picture for the internet. I'm assuming that this is some kind of retribution for the security cameras that my landlord installed on the house, but who knows? I was so fed up with CAN trying to intimidate me, though. I'd tried the police before, and they basically told me to have CAN's landlord kick him out (pretty sure he owns the house though), or to call 911 every time he harassed me. </div>
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Well, I finally got the cops involved - I actually heard a "Why did you let this go on so long?" from a woman who worked at the police station, and ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? I have tried SEVERAL times to get the police to care about this! Anyway, the police stopped by CAN's house, and CAN wouldn't answer his door. He's been avoiding me ever since.</div>
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This morning, I guess he was feeling brave, because he was across the street with his dog, while I cleaned off my car. He started making weird squawking noise and mumbling about the internet. I just ignored him, because I know he hates that, and because he wasn't in my face. But I sure do wish he'd move away. </div>
<br />Literary Auntiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06001206896932917595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-700329284596693749.post-53661684817645427722016-01-04T11:06:00.001-05:002016-01-04T11:06:58.524-05:00tiny changes in lifestyleI don't make resolutions, really. I make very small, achievable plans. Like:<br />
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After several years of being a grumpy fuck about my snow boots ("If I wear them to work, I am going to wear them all day! I don't want to be lugging different shoes and 800 bags to and from work."), I am going to be that kind of person who brings cute shoes in a tote, along with my lunch and whatever else. Because 4+ months is too long to go without cute shoes.<br />
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After several years of having a messed-up nerve in my back that occasionally shoots pain right up the side of my neck and into my head, I'm going to see about getting a new mattress. I'm also going to look into therapeutic massage,<br />
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After several years of watching TV on a 19-inch television that weighs roughly 200 pounds - OK, I'm exaggerating slightly - I'm going to see about upgrading that shit. And then maybe the internal antenna will work better with my black box, so that I can watch more channels than Fox and the CW.<br />
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After several years of shoddy list-making, I'm going to start keeping better track of all of the books that I read. Because every single year, I look at the list I've added to throughout the year and I think, "Yeah, I definitely read more books than that." But the books aren't on there, and I can't remember what they are. And a lot of the books were from the library, so I can't even look at my shelves and refresh my memory. I also need to somehow consolidate all of the magazine tear-outs and lists of books that I want to read, which are scattered all over my apartment.<br />
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After several years, perhaps I'll be better about having paper messes scattered all over my apartment.<br />
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<br />Literary Auntiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06001206896932917595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-700329284596693749.post-27212209713675320752015-12-09T11:08:00.001-05:002015-12-09T11:08:06.037-05:00ruminationsWhen you think of your brain and your mind, do you have mental images of what your brain is doing? Me, I have several images, depending on what I'm thinking about thinking about:<br />
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When I think about accessing memories and specific information, what comes to mind is a never-ending mental library with a gigantic filing system:<br />
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When a new idea is forming in my head (usually about work, usually when I'm trying to go to sleep), I imagine an explosion of light across the surface of my brain, with electricity racing all along the edges:<br />
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Sometimes I imagine a series of black caverns that contain all of the thoughts and memories that I want to keep hidden:<br />
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When listening to music that I really like, I imagine fluid forms expanding throughout my mind:<br />
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Intriguing smells bring to mind images of whatever evocations come to the foreground:<br />
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Considering how impressed I am with brains in general, I'm sure that there are categories of thought that aren't even occurring to me right now. As a very visual thinker, I'm fascinated by the countless pictures that enter my mind, especially when thinking is the topic I'm thinking about. The worst thing that I can imagine is my brain dying off through disease or disuse. I want my mental landscape and my thought-pictures to remain vibrant and ever-changing for years to come.Literary Auntiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06001206896932917595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-700329284596693749.post-87021197351972959872015-12-01T15:44:00.001-05:002015-12-01T15:44:52.621-05:00I painted a dresserHoroscopes are not my jam, but I enjoy the <a href="http://lennyletter.com/" target="_blank">Lenny</a> horoscopes. For instance, here's mine for December:<br />
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"<strong style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 23px;">GEMINI</strong><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 23px;">(May 21 to June 20)</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 23px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 23px;">You are most at home being in control. You are second most at home being like “Fuck it all.” But the gray area, the suspended experience of not knowing or loosening your grip just a touch, is the scariest for you. It’s scary, because to let go just a little means you have to relinquish an outcome in which you are still invested. This month, don’t hold on to all your shit too tightly. Likewise, don’t just throw it all in the trash. Instead, just walk with your shit, knowing that some of it is yours and some of it doesn’t belong to you, but you’ve been entrusted to carry it — gently."</span><div>
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<span style="line-height: 23px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I spent a lovely week at my mom's for Thanksgiving. The cats went outside every single day, and Brian finally tried walking in the snow! Floyd won't truck with snow at all, but Brian made the effort and decided that snow isn't too bad. And then it warmed up for the rest of the week, and all of the snow melted. Typical.</span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 23px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We had our usual Thanksgiving meal, with a ham steak for me; the only difference is that my brother did all of the cooking. I wish I liked turkey, because he did a pretty good job on it (my mom is more of a "shove the turkey in the oven and forget about it" kind of cook, but Mark stuffed it with veggies and basted it and everything). </span></span><br />
Other than that... I painted a dresser. I painted a dresser.</div>
Literary Auntiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06001206896932917595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-700329284596693749.post-68190703220467344642015-09-28T13:58:00.001-04:002015-09-28T13:58:53.068-04:00in which I hate on "Sunday Funday"<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I do not get going out on a Sunday. I don't care about the sports, and I don't care to while away my Sunday in a dark bar. My Sundays are jealously saved for laundry and reading and walking, and whatever movie I want to watch in the evening, and whatever giant meal I feel like making and eating. My Sundays are conspicuously free of day drinking, and there is no specter of a Monday Morning Hangover to start the workweek. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will, occasionally, foray out for brunch. Brunch is nice and good, but I like to do it rarely, to keep it fresh and beautiful in my mind. I don't ever, EVER want to feel blasé about brunch. And, as for the Sunday Funday phenomenon, I know that a lot of people do Sunday Funday religiously, but I don't get it. And I probably won't be joining you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Speaking of not joining you, <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I've already decided to give myself a hermit week this week - no hanging with friends after work, just walking and reading and quieting myself down. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I need to just relax and be alone and charge up for crazy October activities, the Halloween parties that require great costumes, the family trips, the work convention that I'll be attending. October is chock full of goodness, and I need to rest up for it.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">One of my activities will be watching cheesy horror movies. To that end, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I borrowed one of those cheap horror movie box sets from my mom, and last night I watched a few of the movies. SO ridiculous!! First I watched Dracula III: Legacy, which was about a defrocked priest searching for Dracula. I didn't really need to see the second movie to keep up with the "plot", surprisingly enough. The priest was a Blade rip-off, basically, and he kept saying ridiculous things like, "I don't bless babies." And then, at the end, he inexplicably fell in love with this woman he helped rescue. She got skewered by Dracula, so the priest was all, "You're dying. Do you have a last confession?" And she was like, "I've had impure thoughts... for YOU." This while she is BLEEDING OUT ON A DIRTY FUCKING STONE FLOOR!! It was incredible. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I wanna bang you too, babe. But your blood might get on me..."</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And then I watched "Halloween 6: The Curse of Michael Myers". I saw this in theaters years ago, because I love the Halloween movies, and I had a huge crush on Paul Rudd because of "Clueless". The movie was kind of creepy and fun in the middle, but the beginning and ending make NO sense whatsoever - something about a medical/mystical group that is trying to... do something... by sacrificing a baby or something. And Michael Myers is involved somehow, but they lose control of him. Or something. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.screenrelish.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/paulrudd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.screenrelish.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/paulrudd.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"We don't understand it either."</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">OH, and the mother of the family living in the Myers house is the woman who played the mother in "Better Off Dead"! She made me sad in this movie though - abused and cowed by an alcoholic asshole husband, and then slaughtered by an unkillable force of evil. Sadness.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Michael wants his two dollars!!</td></tr>
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<br />I think horror movies and cat-cuddling (and reading, and walking) will definitely refresh me. And I can't wait to get started properly tonight.<div>
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I've been reading "Villette" by Charlotte Brontë. Some reviewer had deemed it better than "Jane Eyre," so I wanted to give it a try. It is really good, but it seems to have less hope, fewer joyful moments than "Jane Eyre" does. I love the 19th century novel convention of having people randomly find each other after years apart - you would think that the whole of Europe was a very small town. Anyway, I hope to finish "Villette" this week.<br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></span></span></div>
Literary Auntiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06001206896932917595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-700329284596693749.post-24315286503304676862015-08-10T10:58:00.000-04:002015-08-10T10:58:33.042-04:00end of an eraI know, this title is the worst kind of cliché, but...<br />
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My former landlord and very good friend Shon is selling the house where I lived for 8 years. He had an estate sale this weekend, and I went over to pick up a few things yesterday. I was excited about FINALLY having a kitchen table, and a new dresser, but I was unprepared for the nostalgia that punched me in the chest when I walked back into the house.<br />
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There was a time when I knew every inch of that house and could walk it confidently in pitch-black darkness. I could remember the story behind so many furnishings, so many pieces of furniture - the non-working organ that a packrat roommate left behind when he moved out, the buffet that Shon bought and painted and sanded so that it looked distressed in just the right way, the time that Shon and another former roommate went on an art-buying spree on eBay.<br />
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I was also nostalgic seeing all of my favorite spots in the house. The corner armchair in the living room where Floyd and I liked to read (OK, Floyd napped, I read). The dining room table, where I loved to sip tea and write in my journal - also the site of some great dinner parties. The front porch, where I loved to people-watch and sip beers. The kitchen, where we had many drunken, heartfelt late-night talks.<br />
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I remembered so many shenanigans, some hilarious, some maddening. So many roommate fights. So many parties. So many good stories, even if the actual circumstances were very, very bad. This house, with its many inhabitants, is the reason why I feel that I could possibly write a book about roommates (names changed to protect the not-so-innocent). At one time, this house was the stuff of Allentown legend.<br />
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Shon and I spent quite a while reminiscing yesterday. We talked about the "Golden Age" of the house, when everyone seemed to be having the most fun with the least amount of damage. Later, as I was winding down, Shon texted me that a former roommate from that Golden Age had died. Jesus. So sad, and so unexpected. And another punch in the chest.<br />
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When I went to bed, I found myself lost in memories to the point where someone slammed a door nearby, and I was so surprised to find that I wasn't in my old house, back in that Golden Age where we all sought each other out when we came home. For the most part, we really liked each other. Some of us loved each other, platonically. The word "family" was thrown around with abandon. Even I, the most antisocial, tended to be happy when I heard the front door open.<br />
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Even though I moved out more than two years ago, Shon always kept me in the loop, as things went from fun-crazy to just plain crazy - OK, there was quite a lot of "just plain crazy" in my last few years there. And now even those stories will cease. The house will move on to someone else. The stories will happen to someone else.<br />
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<br />Literary Auntiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06001206896932917595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-700329284596693749.post-7679912945163376372015-08-05T10:12:00.000-04:002015-08-05T10:12:18.609-04:00rulesI always want to act like I'm some sort of iconoclast, fighting all of the powers and breaking all of the rules. And yet I fear getting into trouble all the time. As a teenager, when I was at my most timid, I was afraid of doing the simplest things, like buying groceries, worried that I'd do them wrong and get yelled at.<br />
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Years of watching mob movies and heist movies, and mainlining "Breaking Bad" last winter, have reminded me, again and again, that I'm too anxious to crime. I'm too anxious to break big, societal rules. Even if I were going to break the law for noble, Robin Hood-style reasons. So no anti-corporation, anti-shadow government warrior time for me - plus, how does one even get started along those lines?<br />
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Plus, I still freak out about something as small as getting a parking ticket. "I KNEW I shouldn't have parked there, even though the sign is blank! I just knew it! I ALWAYS get in trouble, even when I didn't mean to break the rules!"<br />
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My conscious rule-breaking is on a slighter, much more personal scale. And the "rules" themselves aren't really rules per se, just the sort of appearance and behavior guidelines that our society loves to give women in particular. In seemingly endless waves, in magazines, in the entertainment we consume, in ads. I rebel where I can: Rules of dressing for larger women? DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO WEAR! Women should never be too mouthy and opinionated? SCREW THAT, IF I WANT TO SAY SOMETHING, I'LL SAY IT. Blondes should wear brown mascara, never black? FUCK YOU, I DO WHAT I WANT. Women should smile and be approachable at all times? MY SCOWL IS AWESOME, AND I'M NOT CHANGING MY FACIAL EXPRESSION UNLESS I FEEL LIKE IT. Women should freeze their eggs and pay for egg storage in perpetuity, in case they change their minds about having children? I HOPE ALL OF MY EGGS SHRIVEL UP AND DIE IMMEDIATELY.<br />
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These are weird examples, but you get my point. My societal "rebellions" are small and mostly unmarked, except in my own mind. One time, I was watching a TV show with a friend, and she remarked with distaste about a woman wearing a black bra under a slightly sheer white t-shirt. Ever since then, whenever I put a dark bra under a light shirt, I feel so delightfully naughty. Screw anyone's notions of proper womanhood!<br />
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There are so many things that I think and do that are my tiny ways of not conforming, even though no one really notices, and no one cares. Because I know. I care. <br />
<br />Literary Auntiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06001206896932917595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-700329284596693749.post-35156459693141478002015-07-27T11:43:00.000-04:002015-07-27T11:43:14.700-04:00my insomniaI start to drift off<br />
and then an itch on my foot<br />
and then an itch on my back<br />
and then an itch on my head<br />
and then an itch on my other foot<br />
and then one cat attacks the other<br />
and then I get hot and throw my sheet off<br />
and then a loud belch just outside the window<br />
and then an itch on my ankle<br />
and then an itch on my back<br />
and then my hair is being pulled on one side by the pillow<br />
and then I get cold and pull my sheet over myself<br />
and then one cat starts scratching up the armchair<br />
and then a door slams somewhere close<br />
and then a dog howls<br />
and then an itch between my toes<br />
and then an itch on my head<br />
and then I get hot and throw my sheet off<br />
and then one cat headbutts me<br />
and then an itch on my forehead<br />
and then an itch up my nose<br />
and then one cat curls up in my arms<br />
and then I get cold and pull my sheet over myself<br />
and then I have the same dream over and over<br />
and I wake up repeatedly<br />
getting madder and madder that my brain won't calm down<br />
and then my alarm goes off<br />
and I'm out of chances<br />
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<br />Literary Auntiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06001206896932917595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-700329284596693749.post-4856911621102278612015-06-17T09:21:00.000-04:002015-06-17T09:21:24.540-04:00It's my party, and I'll cry if I want toLast night I locked the cats out of the bedroom so that I could get some sleep. I don't know why, but they've been fighting again. Not seriously, but loudly - howling-growling fights right when I'm dropping off to sleep, and then again between 3 and 5 AM. I really needed sleep last night. I didn't want to lock them out, but just as I started to fall asleep, Floyd went for Brian. So I kicked them both out, and how restful the night was after that.<br />
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I had an awful day yesterday, due to lack of sleep, stomach problems, PMS, car repair stress, work stress, and on, and on. All little problems that joined forces with the undercurrent of anxiety that I always have, until everything seemed so awful and insurmountable.<br />
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I have learned that I need to wallow in these feelings a bit before putting my head down and plowing through them like the bull that I am. If I don't wallow, if I just push the feelings away, they come back at <i>least</i> twice as hard. And that's when panic attacks happen. Better to avoid the panic attacks.<br />
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I also know that I need good sleep to help with the anxiety. And so, no cats in the bedroom.<br />
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I have a birthday coming up, and it's the very busy season at work, so usually I'm not focused on any of the myriad celebrations of my birth. Being so busy just makes the time fly, and then all of a sudden WOOOO, PRESENTS! CAKE! BREAKFAST PIZZA! And then the presents and cake and breakfast pizza relieve any work stress that is building up, and then everything is hunky-dory for the rest of the summer.<br />
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Except last year. Last year I experienced the worst PMS mood swings I've ever had in my life, directly on my birthday. As I was walking out to my car to go to work, one of my favorite bracelets just fell apart off of my wrist. I was crouched down, trying to find the glass beads in the front lawn, when I cried for the first time that day. Just a few tears, but it marked the way the rest of the day was going to go. I cried on my way to work, thinking about a sad news story from months before, and then I cried because I had so much work to do once I got to my desk. <br />
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This just went on throughout the day - I would cry every time someone noticed I was upset. I would cry trying to tell people why I was so upset. Oh, it was just a wet, overwhelming, miserable day in my world. By the time some friends took me out for drinks on a wonderful patio, I was so drained that I could barely speak. Maybe I wallowed in my emotions a little too much that day.<br />
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Yesterday, when I was feeling the most freaked out, the thought occurred to me - at least the anxiety isn't taking over on my birthday. Yup, I'm always seeing the silver lining.<br />
<br />Literary Auntiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06001206896932917595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-700329284596693749.post-25088803688637808862015-05-19T09:47:00.001-04:002015-05-19T09:47:50.663-04:00Music this summerI was very upset when the <a href="http://www.canalsidebuffalo.com/visit-canalside/concerts/" target="_blank">Canalside Concert Series</a> was announced this year. My favorite new band, <a href="http://www.julytalk.com/?lang=en" target="_blank">July Talk</a>, will be performing the week of the<a href="https://rideforroswell.org/" target="_blank"> Ride For Roswell</a>, when my work life goes into overdrive, so I probably won't be able to attend. And the same thing happened last year with the Sam Roberts Band! (Fun fact - I saw July Talk open for the Sam Roberts Band in February.)<br />
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I was kind of bummed about missing July Talk. Although I am very excited about Matt and Kim, Fuel, Everclear, IRON & WINE!!, The Mighty Mighty Bosstones... and all of these shows are free. Man, I love Buffalo.<br />
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But I digress.<br />
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My disappointment in not seeing July Talk was mostly wiped out when I found out that <a href="http://www.girlinacoma.com/" target="_blank">Girl in a Coma</a> would be in town for Gay Pride! I have loved them since forever, and I was out of town the last time they were in Buffalo, so I am very excited to see them in two weeks.<br />
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And let's be real, July Talk is from Toronto, so I might get to see them a lot more. I hope so.Literary Auntiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06001206896932917595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-700329284596693749.post-60792164472627514432015-05-11T10:00:00.002-04:002015-05-11T10:00:34.575-04:00Courtesy and Respect<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
I had a lovely weekend at my mom's house, celebrating Mother's Day, and spending time with my family. It was very hot out, but we still managed to get a lot of activities in. And I also managed to relax somewhat.</div>
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But then I came back to Buffalo. I was rushing around this morning, as I usually do, flustered and hurried. So of COURSE CAN started bitching at me as soon as I came out of my house to head to work. He<span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"> asked snottily if there was "courtesy and respect" between us yet, "about the windows." Something about them being opened first thing in the morning and last thing at night. Also something about a conversation he eavesdropped on between me and my landlady.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">I have been trying to ignore him, and it has worked, but today CAN caught me unawares. He's been somewhat friendly lately, and I foolishly let my guard down. So I was instantaneously enraged at his fuckery, and I said, yet again, that I was allowed to have my windows and blinds open, and he's not in a position to say a damn thing about it! </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">The thing is, I knew I was getting nowhere with him. I've known this for a long time when it comes to CAN. He just stood there saying, "Oh, I know, I know!" in a rather sarcastic tone of voice, and I finally got to my car and tried to figure out what the hell he was even talking about... honestly, I haven't had a face-to-face conversation with my landlady since the fall!</span></div>
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Anyway, I was still pretty mad, so as I was pulling away from the curb, I stopped alongside CAN and told him that he could show courtesy and respect by not fighting with everyone in the neighborhood. It was pretty satisfying to see him fumbling for words as I drove away. But now I need to work hard on ignoring him again.</div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, lucida grande, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">Honestly, I don't know why I seem to have such rotten luck with roommates and neighbors. I can certainly point to instances where I was unreasonable in the past (especially when I was in my early 20s), but I have done nothing to draw CAN's ire. And </span></span><span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">I really love the irony of someone demanding COURTESY AND RESPECT when they can't be bothered to be courteous and respectful themselves. Starting a fight about someone's windows and blinds being open in their house, insisting that they're stalking you, eagerly admitting to eavesdropping and watching others... none of these actions scream COURTESY AND RESPECT to me. And I'm sure any conversation I had with anyone about CAN was both warranted and factual. Possibly about whether he was going to attack me or shoot me, back before I realized that he was just another blowhard asshole who loves to run his mouth.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, lucida grande, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">Ugh. Anyway, I just needed to rant. COURTESY AND RESPECT, my ass.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, lucida grande, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">As a blogging aside, I know I haven't posted much lately. The big changes in my life have been work-related, and I try not to talk about that stuff online. Otherwise, my blog would be a never-ending cycle of "I read, I walked, I had beer, I had tea, I hung out with my family, I hung out with my friends, I hung out with the cats." Over and over again. </span></span></div>
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I don't blog very much about social justice things, although I am certainly all about paying attention to them. My rage about the injustice of certain situations takes away any coherence and eloquence I can muster, and I think that a lot of other people can and do write better, more coherently and eloquently, about these situations. (</div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">Another aside - I honestly don't understand the disdain from some quarters of the internet for "Social Justice Warriors". As if fighting against injustice is something to be ashamed of! Bullshit, my friends. Bullshit.)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">So I am still trying to blog. It's just slow going. Sorry.</span></div>
Literary Auntiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06001206896932917595noreply@blogger.com0