I had some site issues yesterday and today, but Joelle, my fabulous designer at Moxie Design Studios fixed me up and the folks at Hosting Matters (recommended by Joelle) were extremely quick to respond to my questions… which, uh, were rather frantic at 9:30 this morning. But all is well now, crisis averted, I no longer feel out of touch with the world. (And I should be getting e-mail again, Alana.)
It’s been a weird week. I said it, I e-mailed it, I even tweeted it on Twitter. (And I didn’t even include all the weirdness of the week because Twitter only allows 140 characters.) And this today:
Here is your horoscope for Sunday, May 4:
You are still finding more weirdness as you dig through your closets or open old files—but it’s almost all positive! You should try to exploit this crazy luck, because now is the time to pull ahead of the pack.
So, I guess the weirdness isn’t over yet… I can’t say all of the weirdness this week has been positive or lucky, but some of it has-- and I’ll happily take more of the same. Even if it is, well, weird. (Weird word, weird is.)
Speaking of the good kind of weird: Yesterday, I got candy in the mail from Alison for telling her my favorite words. Weird wasn’t one of them, but maybe it should be. (If you’re curious, my favorite words include: undulate, sensuous, slippery, velvet, salacious, wicked, bohemian and hedonist.)
I’m off to make words. Not with candy, however. That would be… weird.
I think the universe is currently out of whack and trying to right itself. I have received several unusual correspondence in the past few days-- “unusual” in the sense of being unexpected and out of the blue. As if people are thinking about me whom I don’t expect to be thinking about me. Not that I don’t think people think about me, but I don’t think people think about me more than they think about other things like, say, government rebate checks or what to have for breakfast. So, to be thought about and then have someone send a note or what not, it is surprising. Mostly surprising in a nice way.
This universe out of alignment theory suggests I am somehow responsible for realigning it. Of course, I go from being rather humble in saying I don’t expect people to think about me (especially people who don’t see me often-- or at all) to accepting responsibility for righting the universe. Ah, the dichotomy! Perhaps it’s only my universe that is out of order, hence the need for me to be the one to re-establish the balance. Yes, perhaps that is it. But I have heard others say their universe is out of order, too. (Hence, some of the correspondence.)
I have commented more than once in the past week that, whatever task I take on next, I would like to wear a cape. (Alison prefers sexy socks.) I don’t know why, but righting the universe (even if it’s only my universe) just seems to scream “cape.” Plus, people kind of have to believe I’m serious about saving the universe if I’m wearing a cape, right? (But not one of those floor-length ones I’ll trip over-- I prefer one of those mid-thigh capes that will flow behind me as I dash around.)
I’m cool with being the superhero of my own universe. How about you?
My three-month Tweet Cloud from my posts at Twitter. While I normally resist whatever the fad of the moment is (and for all I know, Twitter is already on its way out), I love the instant gratification of micro-blogging and social networking in 140 little characters. Satisfies my non-linear, non sequitur brain.
Are you on Twitter?
I woke up this morning with a blog post in mind that involves the 1980s rock bands who are still touring and drawing huge crowds. That thought sparked some fond memories I have of concerts at the awful, wonderful and 20 years long gone Hollywood Sportatorium. (Wikipedia really is fabulous, isn’t it?)
I met a cute boy named Donnie in the gravel parking lot of the Sportatorium after a Bryan Adams concert. We were each with our own friends, parked next to each other and waiting for the over-crowded lot to clear out of rowdy (and drunk-- it was Florida in the 80s) teenagers. We started talking… and ended up kissing while sitting on the hood of my brand new, midnight blue 1987 Camaro. He wanted my phone number but I wouldn’t give it to him (he had “bad boy” written all over him and I was a good girl), so he wrote his number on the back of a picture of the Lauderdale-by-the Sea pier. I worked in a photo lab at the time and was into photography and that was the only paper I had on me. I kept that picture forever (I’m pretty certain I still have it somewhere), but I never called Donnie and I never saw him again.
Memories don’t get any better than that, do they? Sigh...
Alas, my day was sidetracked by some nasty weather (the tornado hit west of me, I’m fine), a sinus headache and other, more pressing work.
I’ll blog more about the good old days one day this week.
Life - thin as a thread
Sometimes you’re lucky
Sometimes you’re better off deadYour first breath is taken and in to the world you are cast
You long for tomorrow while living each day as your lastWell I know what your heart desires
But you can’t take it with you
Into the fireNow you’ve done all you can
Your life’s at the crossroads
You watch as it slips through your hands...-- Bryan Adams, “Into the Fire”—1987
Life. Love. Writing. Friendship.
Sex. Books. Movies. Travel. Politics. Feminism. Academia. Insomnia. Rants. Raves. Chocolate. Lots of chocolate. Some names have been changed, some stories have been embellished. Thanks for stopping by and beware of the dog. Read more...
