My first rant! Listen to me get angry:
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Bloggeriffic
I just wrote a new post about eBay, and found a typo in the post about perfume and edited it. But Blogger has an aversion to hard returns today, and refuses to acknowledge my request to separate paragraphs, making these posts blank-space-free. I just wanted you to know that this is not my fault and I can write and I can structure what I write and I don't normally jumble it all together in one big blobby mass of words that's visually off-putting and hard to understand like a run-on sentence. Just so you know.
eBay
In my quest for oppotunities to spend money and acquire material possessions in order to get closer to God and grow spiritually, I have joined eBay. Results have been mixed. Good: I've gotten what I think are some pretty good deals. I also look pretty in my new dress. Seriously, rowr, if I do say so myself. Bad: Adding a competitive component (auctions) to an activity that I already find stressful and guilt-inducing (shopping). My new friend: The "Buy It Now" option, which sets a price above the minimum bid and allows you to bypass the evolutionary free-for-all that is bidding and become the fittest before anyone else gets their paws on what I want. Godliness creeps ever closer.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
This is How We Learn
Through trial and error. As part of my Princess Project, I thought it would be fun to smell nice. Hence, last night's quest for perfume. I've never had real, full-on perfume. I've done body sprays and lotions and such, but never a signature fragrance. So I headed to Macy's perfume counter and got sprayed. I had no idea how to make a choice, so eventually I just took the leap and snagged one that seemed nice enough. I had to ask what the difference between eau de toilette and perfume was. For those who are as ignorant as I was, here it is: Perfume is stronger, and eau de toilette is more diluted. Perhaps I should have gone with dilution, then, because I applied the perfume this morning, and I can smell myself, which I don't think you're supposed to be able to do. Pretty sure other people can smell me when I walk by, or come within fifteen yards. Am also pretty sure that that's bad. I hadn't even meant to spray myself directly. I meant to spray a mist in front of myself and walk into it. But I guess the little nozzle-y thing wasn't pointed where I thought, because I nailed myself. Noted. Also, this scent is reminding me of my first year in England, back in '97-'98. Specifically, it reminds me of the house of a gracious couple from my church who let me type my post-grad dissertation on their computer. They had a very young son, and I'd catch bits of British children's TV shows while I wrote about Mozart bringing trombones in at the end of Don Giovanni. So, instead of feeling sexy, my mind is full of the puppet animals on Dappledown Farm. Side note: I let myself get talked into buying some more expensive boots (this time for snow) by a cute-but-engaged shoe salesman who had a London accent. Other side note: I bought a top last night that is so unusually structured that I'm not 100% sure that I put the right body parts through the right holes.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
The Princess Thus Far
I figured y'all deserved some kind of update on this whole Lenten Princessy deal. So, here's what's up:
I've spent a shitload of money.
I'd list out the stuff I bought were it not for the suspicion that it would be unfathomably boring for you. I will say that my purchases included a pair of $200 rain boots -- yikes! -- and a very, very flattering sweater. Most of the items have been useful, but not necessary. It's felt a bit extravagant, and I did have some of my usual Buyer's Remorse for a day or so, but you know what cures that pretty quickly? Compliments. One or two people saying, "Awesome boots!" or "That looks really hot," and all of a sudden it's worth every penny. All twenty thousand of them.
I'm also hanging out in some Scripture a bit, which I haven't done much of over the last few years. I realized that I had a filter that enabled me to interpret any verse in the Bible in the most legalistic, disheartening way possible. That was bad. So I stopped, to give my filter time to dissolve. I've been able to handle the occasional Psalm, but for the most part I haven't been pressuring myself to delve into the book if I didn't want to. I've gone in a couple times since Ash Wednesday, though, and it's been all right.
So, a little Bible, a lot of cash dropped.
We are pleased.
I've spent a shitload of money.
I'd list out the stuff I bought were it not for the suspicion that it would be unfathomably boring for you. I will say that my purchases included a pair of $200 rain boots -- yikes! -- and a very, very flattering sweater. Most of the items have been useful, but not necessary. It's felt a bit extravagant, and I did have some of my usual Buyer's Remorse for a day or so, but you know what cures that pretty quickly? Compliments. One or two people saying, "Awesome boots!" or "That looks really hot," and all of a sudden it's worth every penny. All twenty thousand of them.
I'm also hanging out in some Scripture a bit, which I haven't done much of over the last few years. I realized that I had a filter that enabled me to interpret any verse in the Bible in the most legalistic, disheartening way possible. That was bad. So I stopped, to give my filter time to dissolve. I've been able to handle the occasional Psalm, but for the most part I haven't been pressuring myself to delve into the book if I didn't want to. I've gone in a couple times since Ash Wednesday, though, and it's been all right.
So, a little Bible, a lot of cash dropped.
We are pleased.
Friday, March 11, 2011
The Granny Cart
I couldn't do it.
I have a pretty high threshold for some unpleasant things: I can be quite dorky and/or frumpy in public. I can handle a fair amount of ambient noise. Twenty years of playing trombone prepared me well for these things.
But when they all came together in a perfect storm in the form of the Granny Cart, I was defeated.
I tried, honest. After selling my car a few years ago, grocery shopping was one of the few areas in which I had trouble adjusting. A wheelie cart seemed like a fine solution. But these things are so ugly, loud, and flat-out awkward that I gave up after a few tries. I spilled stuff. I huffed and puffed it up a hill. I was almost deafened by the rattling. It was awful.
You win, Granny Cart. You managed to out-dorkify and out-noisify my 30-odd years of built-up tolerance. Well done.
Well done.
I have a pretty high threshold for some unpleasant things: I can be quite dorky and/or frumpy in public. I can handle a fair amount of ambient noise. Twenty years of playing trombone prepared me well for these things.
But when they all came together in a perfect storm in the form of the Granny Cart, I was defeated.
I tried, honest. After selling my car a few years ago, grocery shopping was one of the few areas in which I had trouble adjusting. A wheelie cart seemed like a fine solution. But these things are so ugly, loud, and flat-out awkward that I gave up after a few tries. I spilled stuff. I huffed and puffed it up a hill. I was almost deafened by the rattling. It was awful.
You win, Granny Cart. You managed to out-dorkify and out-noisify my 30-odd years of built-up tolerance. Well done.
Well done.
One Man's Hell
... is another man's heaven. Example: Do you relish the idea of a flight that lasts 15-22 hours? Sitting in coach, unable to wriggle around or fart freely, with "Big Momma's House 2" as your only entertainment option?
I do.
OK, the not-farting thing gets uncomfortable, but I love the thought of having such a long stretch of time where I'm practically forced to do what I almost always want to do anyway: Nothing. And no one expects me to do any more than that, when I'm on a flight. When I land, no one asks what I accomplished. I'm not expected to do laundry or cook real food or help mankind or improve myself or further my career. I don't need to make up some answer to cover up the fact that I sat and stared at things for the equivalent of two working days.
There will be a podcast related to this next week, so I won't spoil it all by elaborating too much. But know this when you listen to it: I mean it.
I do.
OK, the not-farting thing gets uncomfortable, but I love the thought of having such a long stretch of time where I'm practically forced to do what I almost always want to do anyway: Nothing. And no one expects me to do any more than that, when I'm on a flight. When I land, no one asks what I accomplished. I'm not expected to do laundry or cook real food or help mankind or improve myself or further my career. I don't need to make up some answer to cover up the fact that I sat and stared at things for the equivalent of two working days.
There will be a podcast related to this next week, so I won't spoil it all by elaborating too much. But know this when you listen to it: I mean it.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Wednesday, March 02, 2011
This Year's Lenten Escapade
This year, unless something changes radically, God and I will be focusing on the Princess part of Musician Actress Comedian Writer Princess. It's been rather neglected so far. I'd assumed it was primarily a marriage goal -- not a literal desire to marry royalty (not that I'm saying no); just a desire to find the right guy. It hadn't occurred to me that it might have a lot more to do with how I treat myself, or that it might be a Daughter Thing, allowing God to spoil me.
Spoiling. When this Princess idea began to germinate in my brain a couple weeks ago, that was one of the big internal resistances that popped up immediately: I don't want to be spoiled. I don't want to be frivolous or self-indulgent or shallow. The problem is, I may be on my guard too much. It's one thing to be spoiled; it's another to allow someone else -- God or other people -- the pleasure of treating you well.
I can be way (way way way way way way) too practical. It would do me good to let myself buy things because they're pretty, not just because they're essential to survival. Spend money? On unnecessary items? On expensive, unnecessary items? That's going to take some practice for me.
And I'm not used to giving a lot of effort to being pretty or feminine. I put some effort into it, of course, but there are always reasons to exercise restraint -- I didn't feel pretty enough, I didn't have money, I didn't have a guy to appreciate it, I wanted such things to come naturally instead of painting them on. But I think I'm in a place where it wouldn't be a matter of tacking on externals; it would be an expression of how I'm feeling on the inside.
What does this have to do with Lent, a time before Easter traditionally observed by solemnity and fasting? Well, if you've been paying attention -- and why wouldn't you? I'm fascinating -- I'm pretty good at the self-deprivation, delayed-gratification thing. Too good at it for my own good. It makes sense for me to add something rather than subtract it for Lent, thus learning something about the joy and goodness of God in the process. So, this year, I aim to let myself do whatever feels fun and pretty and princessy for Lent, and explore what it's like to be God's daughter -- a princess who isn't locked away in a tower, but who gets to go to balls and drop her handkerchief before dashing suitors. I don't have a specific outline for what I'll do when, because I need the freedom to be spontaneous; even fun rules quickly become burdensome rules for me. Maybe I'll buy clothes, or items for my room, or anything I can find that smells like sandalwood. Maybe I'll hang out at home and play atmpospheric music and light a candle. Maybe I'll go on dates and let gentlemen wine and dine me in return for my sparkling conversation and dazzling smile.
Maybe I'll do it all.
Spoiling. When this Princess idea began to germinate in my brain a couple weeks ago, that was one of the big internal resistances that popped up immediately: I don't want to be spoiled. I don't want to be frivolous or self-indulgent or shallow. The problem is, I may be on my guard too much. It's one thing to be spoiled; it's another to allow someone else -- God or other people -- the pleasure of treating you well.
I can be way (way way way way way way) too practical. It would do me good to let myself buy things because they're pretty, not just because they're essential to survival. Spend money? On unnecessary items? On expensive, unnecessary items? That's going to take some practice for me.
And I'm not used to giving a lot of effort to being pretty or feminine. I put some effort into it, of course, but there are always reasons to exercise restraint -- I didn't feel pretty enough, I didn't have money, I didn't have a guy to appreciate it, I wanted such things to come naturally instead of painting them on. But I think I'm in a place where it wouldn't be a matter of tacking on externals; it would be an expression of how I'm feeling on the inside.
What does this have to do with Lent, a time before Easter traditionally observed by solemnity and fasting? Well, if you've been paying attention -- and why wouldn't you? I'm fascinating -- I'm pretty good at the self-deprivation, delayed-gratification thing. Too good at it for my own good. It makes sense for me to add something rather than subtract it for Lent, thus learning something about the joy and goodness of God in the process. So, this year, I aim to let myself do whatever feels fun and pretty and princessy for Lent, and explore what it's like to be God's daughter -- a princess who isn't locked away in a tower, but who gets to go to balls and drop her handkerchief before dashing suitors. I don't have a specific outline for what I'll do when, because I need the freedom to be spontaneous; even fun rules quickly become burdensome rules for me. Maybe I'll buy clothes, or items for my room, or anything I can find that smells like sandalwood. Maybe I'll hang out at home and play atmpospheric music and light a candle. Maybe I'll go on dates and let gentlemen wine and dine me in return for my sparkling conversation and dazzling smile.
Maybe I'll do it all.
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