I don't know what to think of what Facebook does to people. It is really interesting to hear how affected people become over things they see on this website that... well? It's a website.
I think it's important for people to realize this. It is a tool for communicating, sure, but is it too much? At times, I think so. I think it's important to remember that when we have lists of people that range above 200, we should probably think about what we post there. This is why I use an alias, why I post almost nothing personal, and why I keep changing my birth year to reflect my desire to remain 28.
I don't believe this prevents us from being ourselves. Can't we be ourselves in real life with real people?
My close friends know my story. They hear my story while I use my real voice, usually in person. That is how it should be, as far as I'm concerned.
It does crack me up though when I'm out and about, usually at a restaurant, bar, or coffee place, trying to have a conversation with a friend about real stuff; or trying to read a book, because yes, I still do that, and I hear people bitching about this social networking site. They go off about how they see too much from some people, or not enough from others. They become butthurt when someone drops them from their friends list. They talk about people they have dropped from their own friend lists.
Is this what we have become as a society? Really? South Park was right. Facebook is like Tron. It will suck you in, and you will become trapped in the matrix. Well, if you let it.
The latest thing that I have noticed from people are all of these political/philosophical tiles that get shared, and re-shared. They are a bit like bumper sticker wisdom. At times, I think those are great. Some have really great quotes that make you think. But I also have to wonder, if this, too, isn't too much?
It sort of reminds me of that time a couple years ago when I drove down SE 20th Ave toward Hawthorne BLVD, and I saw a stop sign. Underneath the word "stop", someone had placed a sticker that read: "Now is all you have." At the time, I thought that was just fantastic! But on the same drive, I noticed more of them. And more of them. And... still more. One bike rack area had them plastered all over it.
And well... yeah. As you could imagine, I was less impressed. See where I'm going?
Are we turning great wisdom into cheap rhetoric? It is feeling like that to me, at least a bit. I get it, and it's great that the word is getting out, and possibly making people think, but... is it, or is it more of the same in a veritable sea of once-great things that are starting to matter less and less? I guess it's all been happening for a while with the ability to rip CDs and DVDs; the ability to buy cheaper art prints; the ability to basically cheapen anything that is truly great, bring it to the point of saturation.
Accessibility is a great thing, don't get me wrong. Without the benefit of these truly great things, we would live a miserable existence. But accessibility and saturation are completely different things, and I believe it's important that we are careful in that distinction.
When we allow accessibility, we are saying that we believe anyone, if they so choose, can see, learn, and experience something that may have only been accessible to a select few in the past.
Nothing wrong with that.
When we allow things to reach the point of saturation, we see people rolling their eyes because they have not only had way too much access, but may have never wanted access in the first place, and are so sick of said subject matter, that they start looking for something completely different.
This is a lot of what I see on this social networking site that, yes, OK, I still go to, because I will admit... some of it is fun. Enough of it is fun to make me want to stay. For now. But I am not really that into talking about it... on the outside. I would much rather hear about what you have been up to, and what you are doing with your life.
-H
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Sunday, October 9, 2011
It only takes once: Proof that my friends are a terrible influence on me.
There are times when I am so influenced by a certain misspelling, or slang term that I will always think of that when I see the real word, though should probably try to use... the real word, instead of what has replaced it in my mind.
Exhibit A: The word "Amazeballz".
It's not even a word, but now, when I see the word "Amazing", no matter where, and no matter the context, it always reads as "Amazeballz" to me.
The other day, as I dropped my daughter off at school, a little boy wore a message T-shirt, that read: "The Amazing Spider Man", with a cartoon drawing of him on the front. But in my mind? Spiderman was... Amazeballz. It took me a second to register that a small child probably would not wear that particular non-word on his chest, and I had to re-read to confirm that yes, in fact, this was all in my head, and no, they really did not make a shirt that size with that non-word emblazoned across the front of it.
See what you people are doing to me? Do you see? DO YOU SEE???
And still more proof follows with Exhibit B: The word "Waffle." Oh lord.
Really, this should be a benign, innocuous breakfast food. But no. It will never, ever be the same. See? Several months ago now, some friends started using a word that described someone so annoying, the only word left that fit was "Twatwaffle". It is the kind of word that goes well with a cough, and as you can imagine... perfect to fit into conversation, virtually undetected, unless you speak smartass, which I happen to be fluent in.
It was all very funny, but now? Whenever I see the word "waffle" anywhere in public, I crack up a little. And good lord. How long have I known the normal, everyday meaning of that word?
It will never be the same.
Here is another example of my mind's ridiculous ability to adjust to its surroundings. This one actually has nothing to do with my friends, but still... guh.
Exhibit C: Unintentional Misspellings.
There was a woman I worked with several years ago with a name that wasn't easy to spell. I was in charge of all things filing, because I was young like that, and whoever had made her file folder up, had transposed two letters in her name. No matter how many times I saw her name spelled correctly in print; because of that particular misspelling on her folder, my mind would always transpose those letters, and I would read it the other way. I had to really concentrate so that I would not also make the same mistake any time I needed to type her name up for any reason.
I even went so far as to make a new label for her folder the second week I was in that office, but alas, to no avail; the synapses were already misfiring, and she would forever be Mrs. Misspelled to me.
Sad, but true.
One of these days, maybe I will decide to just be set in my ways, and my brain will be an impervious store of knowledge that neither I, nor anyone around me will question. Although... I have to wonder if that's actually a good idea either? See? The older you get, and the more you learn, the less you really do know.
It is getting worse with the internet.
I had a conversation over coffee recently with Miranda about this, and about how the ability to "Google" anything and everything, and not having to actually know things anymore, because we all have our little "smart phones" and other devices, might actually be a bad thing. If it's there, and you don't feel the need to store it organically anymore, will you?
Is Google destroying our ability to retain information?
It could be. If you know it's there at your disposal, and you are busy with other implements of world domination, it's quite possible that you may need to go back and look at something again and again. And thinking about my own mind, and how it will retain incorrect information because it likes to taunt me, it could be quite dangerous. Hm.
And yet? I still do it all the time.
-H
Exhibit A: The word "Amazeballz".
It's not even a word, but now, when I see the word "Amazing", no matter where, and no matter the context, it always reads as "Amazeballz" to me.
The other day, as I dropped my daughter off at school, a little boy wore a message T-shirt, that read: "The Amazing Spider Man", with a cartoon drawing of him on the front. But in my mind? Spiderman was... Amazeballz. It took me a second to register that a small child probably would not wear that particular non-word on his chest, and I had to re-read to confirm that yes, in fact, this was all in my head, and no, they really did not make a shirt that size with that non-word emblazoned across the front of it.
See what you people are doing to me? Do you see? DO YOU SEE???
And still more proof follows with Exhibit B: The word "Waffle." Oh lord.
Really, this should be a benign, innocuous breakfast food. But no. It will never, ever be the same. See? Several months ago now, some friends started using a word that described someone so annoying, the only word left that fit was "Twatwaffle". It is the kind of word that goes well with a cough, and as you can imagine... perfect to fit into conversation, virtually undetected, unless you speak smartass, which I happen to be fluent in.
It was all very funny, but now? Whenever I see the word "waffle" anywhere in public, I crack up a little. And good lord. How long have I known the normal, everyday meaning of that word?
It will never be the same.
Here is another example of my mind's ridiculous ability to adjust to its surroundings. This one actually has nothing to do with my friends, but still... guh.
Exhibit C: Unintentional Misspellings.
There was a woman I worked with several years ago with a name that wasn't easy to spell. I was in charge of all things filing, because I was young like that, and whoever had made her file folder up, had transposed two letters in her name. No matter how many times I saw her name spelled correctly in print; because of that particular misspelling on her folder, my mind would always transpose those letters, and I would read it the other way. I had to really concentrate so that I would not also make the same mistake any time I needed to type her name up for any reason.
I even went so far as to make a new label for her folder the second week I was in that office, but alas, to no avail; the synapses were already misfiring, and she would forever be Mrs. Misspelled to me.
Sad, but true.
One of these days, maybe I will decide to just be set in my ways, and my brain will be an impervious store of knowledge that neither I, nor anyone around me will question. Although... I have to wonder if that's actually a good idea either? See? The older you get, and the more you learn, the less you really do know.
It is getting worse with the internet.
I had a conversation over coffee recently with Miranda about this, and about how the ability to "Google" anything and everything, and not having to actually know things anymore, because we all have our little "smart phones" and other devices, might actually be a bad thing. If it's there, and you don't feel the need to store it organically anymore, will you?
Is Google destroying our ability to retain information?
It could be. If you know it's there at your disposal, and you are busy with other implements of world domination, it's quite possible that you may need to go back and look at something again and again. And thinking about my own mind, and how it will retain incorrect information because it likes to taunt me, it could be quite dangerous. Hm.
And yet? I still do it all the time.
-H
Friday, October 7, 2011
But your memory is here and I'd like it to stay. Warm light, on a winter's day.
In the morning, I am to drive to Eugene to celebrate the life of a friend from my younger years; a life that was cut short way too soon. I suppose this is all part of life in general, but frankly? It still sucks.
I really hate goodbyes. Especially permanent ones.
I have had an eventful week, and haven't really had much time to process all of this. I received the call that he had passed away last Sunday morning, just as I was parking my car to meet up with a friend and do AIDSWalk. After receiving this news, I was not myself that day, but I did my best. It was a nice distraction to have something going on that required me to be a bit active, since that does seem to be the way I deal with things most effectively.
After that, I had a pretty steady week of work, mixed with neighbourhood disturbances that required my attention and Chutzpah.
Let's just say... there are times when I take the easy way out. What can I say? I don't handle this sort of thing that well, so I often bury myself in work, and fill what would normally be free time with other things so I don't have to think about it. That sense of doom that pends after someone I know leaves this world, has never been an easy thing for me to face.
I'm just being honest here. I don't like visiting dark places for long, so I look for the shiny distractions at just about every turn.
We all knew this was coming for a while. Aaron was diagnosed in 2009, just two years after he married the love of his life; right around their second annivesary. He did last about 2 years longer than originally predicted. I think a lot of that had to do with his attitude toward life. He was not the type of man who would let something like Cancer get him down. He even coined a phrase that caught on with his friends, as well as people who may have seen his story on the news: "Cancer Sucks. Life is good. Choose joy."
'Aint that the truth? Few things are this true, people. I feel that if anyone needs a lesson in how to live with, rather than die of disease, it's that one. Attitude is everything.
Aaron was not the type to wallow in self-pity. In some ways, we were a lot alike. Humour was a coping strategy for him, and he used it often. He even did stand-up comedy for a while, and he was good at it! We often had to remind him after he became sick that it was OK to feel sad about certain things, and it was OK to cry. We wouldn't think less of him if he did.
And there were times when he did. Really, I think he struck a pretty healthy balance when it came to emoting about his condition. He handled it remarkably.
As far as the before time; we were fairly close for a few years. As many of you know, I have a history of being Baptist. There were times when I enjoyed going to church. And other times... the majority of the times, really, not so much. Aaron was one of the few people who made it bearable though. He was hilarious and comforting. I think we had a pretty good understanding of one another, because we were both only children. To me, he always felt like an older brother, though neither of us would ever really know what that felt like.
It is funny how life works. I can remember talking to my mom on the phone, making pancakes, while pregnant with MicroSqueak. She told me that this girl that I knew from the before time; the long, long ago, wanted her to come along on what would be... sort of like her first date with: get this! Aaron Jamison!
I remember thinking to myself: "Wow!"
It didn't take too long until they were engaged after that. And this girl, who I still remember as this adorable middle-schooler, to me, could not have been a better partner for him. She has more character, strength, and integrity than most people ever gain in life. It has been an amazing thing to witness. I am really proud of her for being so strong through all of this. It has been an extremely rough road, and she deserves so much credit.
He was a Christian, and one of the most accepting Christians I had ever met; the kind of Christian I have actual respect for; non-judgmental, and would be your friend regardless of just about any difference you may bring forth.
Just about anyone who went to the U of O in the mid 1990s and hung out at The Glenwood on campus would probably remember him, since he worked there at the time, and would often play guitar and sing in the evenings. He was one of those people you just don't forget.
I will never forget Aaron Jamison.
-H
I really hate goodbyes. Especially permanent ones.
I have had an eventful week, and haven't really had much time to process all of this. I received the call that he had passed away last Sunday morning, just as I was parking my car to meet up with a friend and do AIDSWalk. After receiving this news, I was not myself that day, but I did my best. It was a nice distraction to have something going on that required me to be a bit active, since that does seem to be the way I deal with things most effectively.
After that, I had a pretty steady week of work, mixed with neighbourhood disturbances that required my attention and Chutzpah.
Let's just say... there are times when I take the easy way out. What can I say? I don't handle this sort of thing that well, so I often bury myself in work, and fill what would normally be free time with other things so I don't have to think about it. That sense of doom that pends after someone I know leaves this world, has never been an easy thing for me to face.
I'm just being honest here. I don't like visiting dark places for long, so I look for the shiny distractions at just about every turn.
We all knew this was coming for a while. Aaron was diagnosed in 2009, just two years after he married the love of his life; right around their second annivesary. He did last about 2 years longer than originally predicted. I think a lot of that had to do with his attitude toward life. He was not the type of man who would let something like Cancer get him down. He even coined a phrase that caught on with his friends, as well as people who may have seen his story on the news: "Cancer Sucks. Life is good. Choose joy."
'Aint that the truth? Few things are this true, people. I feel that if anyone needs a lesson in how to live with, rather than die of disease, it's that one. Attitude is everything.
Aaron was not the type to wallow in self-pity. In some ways, we were a lot alike. Humour was a coping strategy for him, and he used it often. He even did stand-up comedy for a while, and he was good at it! We often had to remind him after he became sick that it was OK to feel sad about certain things, and it was OK to cry. We wouldn't think less of him if he did.
And there were times when he did. Really, I think he struck a pretty healthy balance when it came to emoting about his condition. He handled it remarkably.
As far as the before time; we were fairly close for a few years. As many of you know, I have a history of being Baptist. There were times when I enjoyed going to church. And other times... the majority of the times, really, not so much. Aaron was one of the few people who made it bearable though. He was hilarious and comforting. I think we had a pretty good understanding of one another, because we were both only children. To me, he always felt like an older brother, though neither of us would ever really know what that felt like.
It is funny how life works. I can remember talking to my mom on the phone, making pancakes, while pregnant with MicroSqueak. She told me that this girl that I knew from the before time; the long, long ago, wanted her to come along on what would be... sort of like her first date with: get this! Aaron Jamison!
I remember thinking to myself: "Wow!"
It didn't take too long until they were engaged after that. And this girl, who I still remember as this adorable middle-schooler, to me, could not have been a better partner for him. She has more character, strength, and integrity than most people ever gain in life. It has been an amazing thing to witness. I am really proud of her for being so strong through all of this. It has been an extremely rough road, and she deserves so much credit.
He was a Christian, and one of the most accepting Christians I had ever met; the kind of Christian I have actual respect for; non-judgmental, and would be your friend regardless of just about any difference you may bring forth.
Just about anyone who went to the U of O in the mid 1990s and hung out at The Glenwood on campus would probably remember him, since he worked there at the time, and would often play guitar and sing in the evenings. He was one of those people you just don't forget.
I will never forget Aaron Jamison.
-H
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Why should I care what stupid people think? After all... they are stupid.
It's true. There are people out there who will make snap judgments about you based on appearance, or first impressions. Some of those snap judgments are not reversible, or if they are, it takes a LOT of time to overcome them. Personally, I usually give people a while before I decide whether or not I like them. It takes a long time to get to know a person, and depending on how guarded they are, you may never get to know certain people at all.
And... to those people, I say: Damn. Whatever. If I had more time to try and draw you out, I would... but I'm already juggling 15 things on my right hand while trying to figure you out with my left, so I guess I'll catch you at some point on the flip side. Maybe it's just not our time yet. Whatever.
And... to the ones who make the snap-judgments based on a single meeting, I say: Screw you.
It has been said by many, many people, and I will say it again: There will always be someone out there who has more than you, or looks better than you. They might be more articulate, or stylish. They might have a little more personal growth in their background. The list goes on, and you know what? Who the fuck cares? If anything, I think it's a great thing to meet people who can teach me a thing or two.
Most of us can stand to learn new things, am I right? I think we all have something to teach one another, and the quicker we learn this, the happier we will be.
That said, I believe life is way too damn short to worry about what some person you have only just met thinks of you. Just be yourself. Chances are? You are probably pretty great without adding any sort of affectation, or trying to make a good impression.
And if not? Try stuff out. Keep trying stuff out until you find something that makes you come alive, and thrive. This doesn't necessarily mean you need to make a living at it. It could simply be something that gives you enough enjoyment to keep going, and work a job that you may not necessarily love, but must do for survival. You also don't have to be a virtuoso in the beginning. No one is. We all have to start somewhere.
But you know what? You will have so much more energy for that job, than if you didn't pursue whatever it is that you love. Just try, damn it! And you never know: maybe the inspiration or idea to do something really well will lead to a better position or offer. Life takes strange turns at times.
Pay attention to them.
But don't pay attention to stupid people. After all? They are stupid. Spend more time reminiscing about the tape single while listening to this gem, dug up from my demented youth. It was a marvel.
-H
And... to those people, I say: Damn. Whatever. If I had more time to try and draw you out, I would... but I'm already juggling 15 things on my right hand while trying to figure you out with my left, so I guess I'll catch you at some point on the flip side. Maybe it's just not our time yet. Whatever.
And... to the ones who make the snap-judgments based on a single meeting, I say: Screw you.
It has been said by many, many people, and I will say it again: There will always be someone out there who has more than you, or looks better than you. They might be more articulate, or stylish. They might have a little more personal growth in their background. The list goes on, and you know what? Who the fuck cares? If anything, I think it's a great thing to meet people who can teach me a thing or two.
Most of us can stand to learn new things, am I right? I think we all have something to teach one another, and the quicker we learn this, the happier we will be.
That said, I believe life is way too damn short to worry about what some person you have only just met thinks of you. Just be yourself. Chances are? You are probably pretty great without adding any sort of affectation, or trying to make a good impression.
And if not? Try stuff out. Keep trying stuff out until you find something that makes you come alive, and thrive. This doesn't necessarily mean you need to make a living at it. It could simply be something that gives you enough enjoyment to keep going, and work a job that you may not necessarily love, but must do for survival. You also don't have to be a virtuoso in the beginning. No one is. We all have to start somewhere.
But you know what? You will have so much more energy for that job, than if you didn't pursue whatever it is that you love. Just try, damn it! And you never know: maybe the inspiration or idea to do something really well will lead to a better position or offer. Life takes strange turns at times.
Pay attention to them.
But don't pay attention to stupid people. After all? They are stupid. Spend more time reminiscing about the tape single while listening to this gem, dug up from my demented youth. It was a marvel.
-H
Monday, October 3, 2011
On when it is a good time to be dramatic and kick some ass:
Today was kind of a busy work day for me. I had a quick-turn project to work on in my studio. This basically means that the photographic subject matter is brought to me, and I shoot and process all in the same day. This is no big deal if I don't have a lot of other jobs in process, but right now, I do. I'm a busy lady, and I love it.
I was going to do this product shoot in my studio, but conditions were not really suitable for the pieces I was trying to capture. See, I work with refracted light when I am shooting glass, meaning I have to figure out a way to suspend the product over the light, and allow it to illuminate the pieces from underneath.
For now, because I have not yet built or found a glass table small and suitable enough to keep in my studio, I have been shooting the pieces on the glass shelves in my bathroom. Hey. Don't judge. I have done some AMAZEBALLZ work this way. So far, only my friend E has watched me do this. And she did for a while today, and totally cracked up, as I climbed into my bathtub, propping myself up on the edge to get the shots. It works. Whatever.
Anyway, because of this I did not notice that a transient had settled in on the property between my house and the neighbouring building, housing three businesses. This has been an ongoing issue for us since we have moved in here. The problem being, the dumpster and small inlet between the two properties. It is very easy for someone to go back there and hide from the world... well, most of it.
As soon as I did notice him, though, I called the police. This particular transient has been notorious for certain offenses. I had suspected someone was doing something there for a while, because I discovered my clothing catalogues opened to the lingerie section back there from time to time.
Yeah, I try not to think too much about it.
I told the dispatcher that I needed to step out to pick my children up and explained the pertinent situation to her. She said she would send someone out there to move the guy along.
Well, when I arrived back home, not only was he still there, but he was masturbating in plain view, and my children both saw everything, and of course shouted "EWWW!!!"
Yeah, that was fun. Explaining drunken transient masturbation to a five year old.
Not OK.
So, I called the police again, this time in practical hysterics, explaining what had just happened. once again, the dispatcher said she would send someone out.
About 20 minutes later, I received a knock on my door from someone I will refer to as "Officer Butthurt". He pointed to the transient, and asked me if that was who I was referring to.
I explained that it was, indeed.
He then had this to say: "So, you do realize that he not on your property?"
At this point it was very difficult for me not to verbally abuse this idiot. "Yes. But he is visible, and he is making my yard an unsafe place for my children to play."
"Explain to me what you saw today, Miss."
"It's Mrs., first of all, and secondly, I called for the first time at 2 PM. No one came to do anything then, even after I had explained that this man has a history of masturbating back there, in full view of everyone.
"When I came home from picking my children up from school, he was doing exactly that, and my children saw everything. Have you ever experienced the joys of explaining public, drunken, transient masturbation to a five year old? Well, I did about 20 minutes ago. That was GREAT fun!"
"Well, again, this is not on your property. I will go next door, and see if they are willing to have me remove him. If they let transients stay back there as a rule, I will have to let him stay."
"But the landlord has signed a no-trespassing agreement with the police department. Seriously. What the... huh???? Are you for real? Really? HE WAS MASTURBATING!!!! HE WAS EXPOSING HIMSELF TO MY 5 YEAR OLD! HOW IS THAT OK?"
"Those are the rules, Ma'am."
With that, he walked next door. I can't tell you how violated and under-valued I felt here, and now moreso by the police officer than the fucking drunken transient masturbator dude.
I thought they would set him straight and he would remove the man. No. They did not. And he did not.
Absolutely infuriated, I started texting my friends like a madwoman, since my children were being loud, and acting confused as to why I was keeping them in the back of the house, away from the windows. One friend suggested I alert the media. Another suggested I call the mayor's office. I finally just put a show on for my kids, quickly walked next door to the art gallery.
I walked up to one of the employees, and asked her: "Did a police officer come in here to speak to you about a transient?"
"Yes."
"Did you tell him to remove said transient?"
"No. I told him to call the landlord."
"Do you have the landlord's number."
"No. I don't."
"I need to explain the circumstances of this particular transient. He has been jerking off back there, and I can't even let my children go near the window right now. We need to remove him, stat!"
"I don't know what to tell you."
I walked to herb store. It had a sign on the door that said: "Be back in 5 minutes."
FUCK!
I walked into the record store, and explained the situation. He promptly gave me the phone number for the landlord. When I dialed it, it showed up as "Next door building landlord."
I am awesome.
I know it.
Shut up.
I called him in tears, explaining the situation to him. He was livid, since we both knew that he had gone to the Police department and signed the aforementioned agreement with them.
Mr. Hed arrived home not long after this, and I was in tears, and quite distraught, because it really felt like nothing was going to be done about this. He went into the basement and pulled out a shovel. I then spent about five minutes talking him out of getting popped for assault, because yeah... is it worth it? Not really. But it was nice to know that he was taking it seriously.
I instead, explained that I was more upset with how the police handled this than anything else. So, the next thing I knew, he was on the phone to the cops, giving them a real earful.
Thanks, honey.
His wife came over and smoothed things out with us, telling us how to handle the police, by telling them to be sure to check their records here, and look up the no-trespassing agreement.
Not long after that, I watched the man get arrested across the street. He is gone. Hopefully for good.
And we also received a call from the landlord of the building. He has plans to secure that area so the transient problem will hopefully be history.
But in the same call, he let us know that he talked to the same officer who originally responded. And because of the way things were handled in the first store he went into, and was told that he needed to call the landlord, but that they didn't have the phone number for the landlord, he felt "Jerked around", and just left.
So... because of an officer's ego, I had a rawther unpleasant afternoon.
Mr. Hed has plans to give them yet another earful tomorrow, because apparently he was told to call back on day shift. Uh... the officer felt jerked around? Really? Poor piggy.
Seriously. What a day! Good lord!
-H
I was going to do this product shoot in my studio, but conditions were not really suitable for the pieces I was trying to capture. See, I work with refracted light when I am shooting glass, meaning I have to figure out a way to suspend the product over the light, and allow it to illuminate the pieces from underneath.
For now, because I have not yet built or found a glass table small and suitable enough to keep in my studio, I have been shooting the pieces on the glass shelves in my bathroom. Hey. Don't judge. I have done some AMAZEBALLZ work this way. So far, only my friend E has watched me do this. And she did for a while today, and totally cracked up, as I climbed into my bathtub, propping myself up on the edge to get the shots. It works. Whatever.
Anyway, because of this I did not notice that a transient had settled in on the property between my house and the neighbouring building, housing three businesses. This has been an ongoing issue for us since we have moved in here. The problem being, the dumpster and small inlet between the two properties. It is very easy for someone to go back there and hide from the world... well, most of it.
As soon as I did notice him, though, I called the police. This particular transient has been notorious for certain offenses. I had suspected someone was doing something there for a while, because I discovered my clothing catalogues opened to the lingerie section back there from time to time.
Yeah, I try not to think too much about it.
I told the dispatcher that I needed to step out to pick my children up and explained the pertinent situation to her. She said she would send someone out there to move the guy along.
Well, when I arrived back home, not only was he still there, but he was masturbating in plain view, and my children both saw everything, and of course shouted "EWWW!!!"
Yeah, that was fun. Explaining drunken transient masturbation to a five year old.
Not OK.
So, I called the police again, this time in practical hysterics, explaining what had just happened. once again, the dispatcher said she would send someone out.
About 20 minutes later, I received a knock on my door from someone I will refer to as "Officer Butthurt". He pointed to the transient, and asked me if that was who I was referring to.
I explained that it was, indeed.
He then had this to say: "So, you do realize that he not on your property?"
At this point it was very difficult for me not to verbally abuse this idiot. "Yes. But he is visible, and he is making my yard an unsafe place for my children to play."
"Explain to me what you saw today, Miss."
"It's Mrs., first of all, and secondly, I called for the first time at 2 PM. No one came to do anything then, even after I had explained that this man has a history of masturbating back there, in full view of everyone.
"When I came home from picking my children up from school, he was doing exactly that, and my children saw everything. Have you ever experienced the joys of explaining public, drunken, transient masturbation to a five year old? Well, I did about 20 minutes ago. That was GREAT fun!"
"Well, again, this is not on your property. I will go next door, and see if they are willing to have me remove him. If they let transients stay back there as a rule, I will have to let him stay."
"But the landlord has signed a no-trespassing agreement with the police department. Seriously. What the... huh???? Are you for real? Really? HE WAS MASTURBATING!!!! HE WAS EXPOSING HIMSELF TO MY 5 YEAR OLD! HOW IS THAT OK?"
"Those are the rules, Ma'am."
With that, he walked next door. I can't tell you how violated and under-valued I felt here, and now moreso by the police officer than the fucking drunken transient masturbator dude.
I thought they would set him straight and he would remove the man. No. They did not. And he did not.
Absolutely infuriated, I started texting my friends like a madwoman, since my children were being loud, and acting confused as to why I was keeping them in the back of the house, away from the windows. One friend suggested I alert the media. Another suggested I call the mayor's office. I finally just put a show on for my kids, quickly walked next door to the art gallery.
I walked up to one of the employees, and asked her: "Did a police officer come in here to speak to you about a transient?"
"Yes."
"Did you tell him to remove said transient?"
"No. I told him to call the landlord."
"Do you have the landlord's number."
"No. I don't."
"I need to explain the circumstances of this particular transient. He has been jerking off back there, and I can't even let my children go near the window right now. We need to remove him, stat!"
"I don't know what to tell you."
I walked to herb store. It had a sign on the door that said: "Be back in 5 minutes."
FUCK!
I walked into the record store, and explained the situation. He promptly gave me the phone number for the landlord. When I dialed it, it showed up as "Next door building landlord."
I am awesome.
I know it.
Shut up.
I called him in tears, explaining the situation to him. He was livid, since we both knew that he had gone to the Police department and signed the aforementioned agreement with them.
Mr. Hed arrived home not long after this, and I was in tears, and quite distraught, because it really felt like nothing was going to be done about this. He went into the basement and pulled out a shovel. I then spent about five minutes talking him out of getting popped for assault, because yeah... is it worth it? Not really. But it was nice to know that he was taking it seriously.
I instead, explained that I was more upset with how the police handled this than anything else. So, the next thing I knew, he was on the phone to the cops, giving them a real earful.
Thanks, honey.
His wife came over and smoothed things out with us, telling us how to handle the police, by telling them to be sure to check their records here, and look up the no-trespassing agreement.
Not long after that, I watched the man get arrested across the street. He is gone. Hopefully for good.
And we also received a call from the landlord of the building. He has plans to secure that area so the transient problem will hopefully be history.
But in the same call, he let us know that he talked to the same officer who originally responded. And because of the way things were handled in the first store he went into, and was told that he needed to call the landlord, but that they didn't have the phone number for the landlord, he felt "Jerked around", and just left.
So... because of an officer's ego, I had a rawther unpleasant afternoon.
Mr. Hed has plans to give them yet another earful tomorrow, because apparently he was told to call back on day shift. Uh... the officer felt jerked around? Really? Poor piggy.
Seriously. What a day! Good lord!
-H
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Ich bin ein großer Sonderling.
It's true. I have become this as of late... meaning I have time to actually write something. See? My kids started school last week. I had so much to accomplish in the time they would be occupied at school, that I decided to move my workout time to the early morning. It was supposed to only be for the two days included in the first week of school, but something took over; a big, feathery, early bird like creature from the lofty branches of the freak tree, sounding a bit like a crazy crow but looking strangely familiar; known to most as four-thirty A.M. Yes. In order to do what it is I need to do before everyone else is up and about, this is the time I must rise.
CAWWW!
It has been good. Mostly. Even though all of the cool people are still sleeping at this hour, and in the days of my long past childhood, the television would have been showing a test pattern at this hour.
Yeah, it's cool. Really. It is.
Because... I'll tell ya: I can't believe how much I have been able to accomplish since I have started doing this! I start off each day dancing. Since I've just gotten out of bed; doing this, I look a little like Richard Simmons on crack. And I like it. And... like I have said in the past, it really is for the best that no one sees me dance. It's true. Some people have their ironic glasses and accessories. I have my ironic activities. Still though, It is seriously the only form of exercise that does not become tedious, because I actually sort of have to think about what I'm doing. There is also music; albeit lame dance workout video music, but I live it with. Really, it's just fun.
Oh shit! Does this make me some sort of closeted dance hipster? Here is where I get ridiculously neurotic. Look away. No one should see this.
K. Yeah. I'm over it. I don't care. I dance. I dance at four-thirty in the goddamned morning to lame assed dance videos on netflix that my husband makes fun of... if I choose to do them while he is awake, and you know what? I'm writing about it now, so I must not really care who knows. Or, it's possible that I've lost my filtering ability at this point in the day. After all, I have now been awake for 17 hours.
But I have lost some weight, gone down a couple pants sizes. That's all I care about. Whatevs.
And, OK, yes. It is kind of turning me into an evening zombie. I start to desire a tasty repose right around 7 P.M. I usually completely fizzle out and want to suck my thumb by 9 if I am not already in bed by then.
Early bedtime meltdown aside, it does serve me well in other ways, too, I suppose. It is nice to have all of the preparation stuff out of the way so I can focus on my daily tasks. And right now? I have a lot of them. I am trying to actually get a business off the ground now that I have time during the day to make it work. See? I take pictures. Photographic pictures. And it is time to slap that bitch until she coughs up some scrilla. Yes. Yes it is. Big pimpin'. I do it because it's necessary. As of today, the fruits of my pimping labour have actually scored me some work, so I'll take it.
I do now have a decent-sized studio space, and it will get nicer as time wears on.
In the near future, I will also be joining a friend's team walking in AIDS Walk, Portland! I would love it if people would sponsor me, and/or join us! You don't even have to donate the smallest amount listed. There is a check box for "Other Amount", so even $5, $10, or whatever you can muster would be greatly appreciated!
So, this is what has been going on in my world as of late. I realize it has been quite a while since I have posted anything. It is amazing the amount of energy wrangling a couple monkeys and recharging a business takes! I am so looking forward to the days ahead. And I am sure the amount of time I have to devote to my friends and other parts of my life (that seem to have been neglected lately...) will change as things adjust, I'm sure.
-H
CAWWW!
It has been good. Mostly. Even though all of the cool people are still sleeping at this hour, and in the days of my long past childhood, the television would have been showing a test pattern at this hour.
Yeah, it's cool. Really. It is.
Because... I'll tell ya: I can't believe how much I have been able to accomplish since I have started doing this! I start off each day dancing. Since I've just gotten out of bed; doing this, I look a little like Richard Simmons on crack. And I like it. And... like I have said in the past, it really is for the best that no one sees me dance. It's true. Some people have their ironic glasses and accessories. I have my ironic activities. Still though, It is seriously the only form of exercise that does not become tedious, because I actually sort of have to think about what I'm doing. There is also music; albeit lame dance workout video music, but I live it with. Really, it's just fun.
Oh shit! Does this make me some sort of closeted dance hipster? Here is where I get ridiculously neurotic. Look away. No one should see this.
K. Yeah. I'm over it. I don't care. I dance. I dance at four-thirty in the goddamned morning to lame assed dance videos on netflix that my husband makes fun of... if I choose to do them while he is awake, and you know what? I'm writing about it now, so I must not really care who knows. Or, it's possible that I've lost my filtering ability at this point in the day. After all, I have now been awake for 17 hours.
But I have lost some weight, gone down a couple pants sizes. That's all I care about. Whatevs.
And, OK, yes. It is kind of turning me into an evening zombie. I start to desire a tasty repose right around 7 P.M. I usually completely fizzle out and want to suck my thumb by 9 if I am not already in bed by then.
Early bedtime meltdown aside, it does serve me well in other ways, too, I suppose. It is nice to have all of the preparation stuff out of the way so I can focus on my daily tasks. And right now? I have a lot of them. I am trying to actually get a business off the ground now that I have time during the day to make it work. See? I take pictures. Photographic pictures. And it is time to slap that bitch until she coughs up some scrilla. Yes. Yes it is. Big pimpin'. I do it because it's necessary. As of today, the fruits of my pimping labour have actually scored me some work, so I'll take it.
I do now have a decent-sized studio space, and it will get nicer as time wears on.
In the near future, I will also be joining a friend's team walking in AIDS Walk, Portland! I would love it if people would sponsor me, and/or join us! You don't even have to donate the smallest amount listed. There is a check box for "Other Amount", so even $5, $10, or whatever you can muster would be greatly appreciated!
So, this is what has been going on in my world as of late. I realize it has been quite a while since I have posted anything. It is amazing the amount of energy wrangling a couple monkeys and recharging a business takes! I am so looking forward to the days ahead. And I am sure the amount of time I have to devote to my friends and other parts of my life (that seem to have been neglected lately...) will change as things adjust, I'm sure.
-H
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
The vegan pate that kick's Toby's ass any damn day of the week.
First, let me preface this by saying that I am no vegan. In fact? Goose liver pate? Oh yes, please. That is some serious deliciousness right there. But... well? I sometimes get wistful of my vegetarian days, and remember when I used to go through a container of Toby's tofu pate a week. True, it is not a damn thing like the non-vegan version, but still, there was something about it that I used to enjoy.
I've since discovered a soy allergy, so I can't have toby's anymore. Le sigh. That was a sad day.
I will say, and I am not proud of this little fact; that I haven't experimented in the kitchen in a while, and I kind of have to ask myself why that is right now. I love doing this, and I have enough skill and experience now to know that I probably am not going to mess things up to the point that no one will want to eat whatever it is that I throw together. And if I do? I don't usually have an audience. What people don't know about me won't hurt them... or, ultimately, me. Right? Right.
Anyway, I had an idea in my head when I went shopping last week. I have been feeling the need to eat more fiber lately, and try to figure out how to work more veggies into my diet. I am one of those women who laughs with salad just about every day of the world.
Yep. I do it. Shut up.
But still. I felt like more fiber could be worked in somewhere. So, I picked up a couple bags of almonds, and a few extra veggies on top of what I normally buy at the market, went home and performed a little science experiment.
And guess what!? It worked! And holy nom, It's fucking awesome!
So, without further adieu, I give you: My recipe for almond pate.
Instruments of world domination:
Food processor
Cutting Board
A good knife
Ingredients:
1/2 bag Raw Almonds from Trader Joe's
1/4 Walla Walla Sweet Onion
(These are very large. If all you have are little boiler onions, use 1/2 an onion.)
1 medium carrot, cut into small pieces for food processor
1 small to medium rib of celery, cut into small pieces for food processor
1 small handful of chopped dill. (I should have measured this, but alas... I did not.)
2 tbsp lemon juice
Small amount of water for streaming
1 tbsp granulated garlic
salt to taste
Method:
Place almonds in bowl of food processor with pulverizing blade. Pulse until nuts are in small pieces, and stream in a small amount of water; maybe a little more than a tablespoon, just to get it to flow together to a semi-thick paste.
Add onion, and pulse again, until incorporated. If you need to stream a little more water in, that's fine.
Add carrot, followed by celery. Same rules apply to the water. You want it to be able to incorporate together, but not be so thin that it's like soup.
Pulse, adding garlic, salt, and lemon, until well-mixed.
Add the dill last, so it doesn't get too bruised. Bruised anything is not attractive. Bruised herbs? Far from tasty.
You can eat this right away, but it's really amazing the next day. So good on celery and carrot sticks!
-H
I've since discovered a soy allergy, so I can't have toby's anymore. Le sigh. That was a sad day.
I will say, and I am not proud of this little fact; that I haven't experimented in the kitchen in a while, and I kind of have to ask myself why that is right now. I love doing this, and I have enough skill and experience now to know that I probably am not going to mess things up to the point that no one will want to eat whatever it is that I throw together. And if I do? I don't usually have an audience. What people don't know about me won't hurt them... or, ultimately, me. Right? Right.
Anyway, I had an idea in my head when I went shopping last week. I have been feeling the need to eat more fiber lately, and try to figure out how to work more veggies into my diet. I am one of those women who laughs with salad just about every day of the world.
Yep. I do it. Shut up.
But still. I felt like more fiber could be worked in somewhere. So, I picked up a couple bags of almonds, and a few extra veggies on top of what I normally buy at the market, went home and performed a little science experiment.
And guess what!? It worked! And holy nom, It's fucking awesome!
So, without further adieu, I give you: My recipe for almond pate.
Instruments of world domination:
Food processor
Cutting Board
A good knife
Ingredients:
1/2 bag Raw Almonds from Trader Joe's
1/4 Walla Walla Sweet Onion
(These are very large. If all you have are little boiler onions, use 1/2 an onion.)
1 medium carrot, cut into small pieces for food processor
1 small to medium rib of celery, cut into small pieces for food processor
1 small handful of chopped dill. (I should have measured this, but alas... I did not.)
2 tbsp lemon juice
Small amount of water for streaming
1 tbsp granulated garlic
salt to taste
Method:
Place almonds in bowl of food processor with pulverizing blade. Pulse until nuts are in small pieces, and stream in a small amount of water; maybe a little more than a tablespoon, just to get it to flow together to a semi-thick paste.
Add onion, and pulse again, until incorporated. If you need to stream a little more water in, that's fine.
Add carrot, followed by celery. Same rules apply to the water. You want it to be able to incorporate together, but not be so thin that it's like soup.
Pulse, adding garlic, salt, and lemon, until well-mixed.
Add the dill last, so it doesn't get too bruised. Bruised anything is not attractive. Bruised herbs? Far from tasty.
You can eat this right away, but it's really amazing the next day. So good on celery and carrot sticks!
-H
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