Photos, Drama, and a Few Twists

Blogger fucking beta is giving me a beta headache which is turning into an alpha. I tried to play with it to see why exactly I should switch to it even though I already did, and finally I am able to share a photograph of myself. In truth, I needed assistance from Thing One. But before digging into the joys of technology - which is probably more of a monologue on my lack of tech prowess - I would like to respond to the many people who have commented on my very eventful life. First, as you can see, I haven't lost my looks. For that, I am grateful.

My life is indeed very eventful. It's Africa, it's Asia, it's the unsafe Eastern Europe of my ancestors. Unpleasant people, unfamiliar smells and hot spicy soup. There are legal matters and medical crises. Estrangement and financial woe. It feels like Agnes Nixon of ABC soaps fame - All my Children and One Life To Live - is writing the cheesy script of my life. Way too many dramatic events. Clearly I am worthy of a heartier, more realistic plot. Or at least some cleavage to boast.

I do feel like I got a good job, and if I were one of those people who believed that "every time a door closes a window opens," I might see myself locked in a room, but escaping through a window. What an odd expression. Since I am not one of those people, however, and I am also not a trapped bird, I generally steer clear of open windows - at least those without screens. I view my small bit of good fortune as a probability game. The chances of another unpleasant or awful event happening in my life seemed to be less likely, after the many bad twists of plot. About twists, and turns, why do people always use that phrase - "twists and turns"? It sounds absurd. When I first heard it, I thought it was a parody, something Will Ferrell might say on SNL (is it SNL now, instead of "Saturday Night Live"? Is that an update to the effect of KFC? We all know The Colonel fries his chicken so I don't respect that switch.) Regarding twists and turns, it seems that people really do use those two words together. I can understand a twist, I can understand a turn, but twists and turns together sounds ignorant, like saying "nucular," or perhaps "irregardless." William Sapphire would certainly scoff, and I scoff as well. I also digress madly.

At my new job, where I am teaching Language Arts, people seem to understand that I am intelligent. It's wicked fun because I do not have to explain myself or defend myself or even prove myself because my competence is assumed. It is remarkable how much more one can do with just the notion that the people who hired you to teach sense that you can actually do the job. On that note, let's get back to using some of the functions of the Blogger beta, which is supposedly bedda than the old Blogger. It seems it allows me to make things look schnazzier so that you - my devoted reader, and the dog - will be more attracted to what I say. To that end, I suppose I should have linked to the aforementioned soaps, or perhaps KFC. Do ya really wanna go there, though? I guess I've lost the initial emotion that lead me to criticize Beta in the first place. The issue simply pales in the context of My Eventful Life. Oh and one more thing, as Columbo useta say: in truth, that photo of me is from my college days. before I really got good lookin'.

Speed Blog

I gotta get ready for an interview so I cuddled with Rugelah and tried to figure out how Thing One is doing, called my sister and my Mama to check on how they are (grieving still in the forefront many days), picked out clothes for Rugelah which I do not usually do but I have been lately since she's blue and a little tlc never hurt, and then I checked my email. Friend of friend sent info about job for which I have interview today and so I emailed her friend about the school because she's familiar with it and now I hafta figure out how to make copies of references when I forgot to get new cartridge for printer. Like duh.

I looked at the clock and thought okay I will take ten minutes to write and in truth I did read a profile of Will Ferrell in the New York Times magazine this morning and it was somewhat disarming to read about his normal life leading to mega-success in comedy. John Belushi he is not. Nor Margaret Cho. His imitation of George W got him a few invitations to The Big House - not prison, the home of W! - and to his credit he refused them. I know this is one of those times I should link, but do I really have time to link? Didja ever wonder what a person with anxiety and a bit of cycling into not-quite-mania could be like before she takes her meds in the morning? And why is the font different? Aha! Ten minutes and I just finished editing. Now that's a writing process.

My Fictional Life & The Televised Influences

It's hard to write a semi-anonymous blog when controversial events take place in one's life. Why, for example, did I reveal my identity to certain people when it would cause me to lose a definite amount of imagined freedom? It's sort of like Anaiis Nin knowing, in her gut, that people would read her journal. I think she may have known it well, since she wrote about showing it to certain acquaintances, 'if my memory serves me correctly.' Back to my thesis statement: It is a challenge to be one's self when those people who actually know the outer image are looking in, and there is a particular awareness for the author. Me, that is, being self-conscious as I write.

My remedy for this conundrum of identity is so simple it's laughable. From here-on-in, this is pure fiction. Got it? I'm making this shit up, I have no family, no friends, no ideas to speak of. Any similarities between what you read here and real characters that you may know are pure coincidence. Phew.

Ya know why they talk about marriages being 'on the rocks?' It's because often alcohol is involved. My case is no exception. In my general Appeal to the Universe, when I am making it, as one does at moments of shittiness, I ask, how did my life become so utterly predictable? When did I become a lady with a rough marriage? I feel like a character on MacMillan & Wife. Of course, Rock Hudson could have one drink and stop. And they never had close family members die. In those days, main characters were never killed off. But they had dear friends who might suddenly pop up on a new episode, kind of like Maude on All in The Family. Rock and Susan Saint James would kindly condescend to their old pals and chat about them after they left. What had gone wrong? Estelle was acting strange, and never spoke to Buck. Well, Estelle may have wanted him to stop imbibing or maybe he had actually stopped but was now so unpleasant without the alcohol that she wished he'd have more.

Is there a particular diagnosis for a person who continually refers to old television episodes to reference her life? It is a bit twisted, I know, but television was an integral part of my entree (is that a main course or an entry point?) to our culture. Susan Saint James really had it good - so her husband was gay? She still got to solve crimes, look slick all the time, and she always had a happy chuckle ready to pop out.

Whew! That was lotsa fun to make up. This fiction thing is going well. A fictional character referring to actual television characters - I am feeling more optimistic about my fictional life already!

Unwitting Commenter Slight by UnderTechno Gal

Alert, alert! Somehow my comments were not all coming to me or more likely I have been a doofus. Now they are all here and many apologies to folks who commented. I am truly back and happy to be reading some of my fave writers again. Rugelah's gotta get on the computer right now, but I shall be posting and reading. Best update: on to new job, marriage is crap, my son seems better but it's a long haul, Rugelah is just peachy. I continue to be what some may think is a 'mental case' (a compliment, really), but what I know is utterly insightful and with a better haircut this week. (Grammar I forsake thee.) Ego on the mend.