Vis dar nepasiruošus įsipareigojimams bei charakteristikoms, nenorėdama cenzūruoti savo pačios, laikas nuo laiko, galbūt, nestabiliomis nuotaikomis persmelktų post‘ų ir dėl to pasitalpinus čia, tikiuosi patenkinti save ir jus.

Sveiki

So keeping in the spirit of vacation I gave a tip and took a picture with this vampire like creature and looked happy to be attacked.

Great day even when it was cold I saw so much and enjoyed a great friend who is so missed in CA!

…and it must be stopped in our life time…

Here we go…
Stumbling, bumbling, fumbling my way into this first post, with no real goal in mind.
I didn’t plan on doing a blog.
I didn’t select wordpress as my platform of choice.
This was not pre-meditated in any way.

– That’s my defense when the charges of tripe, frivilousness, and inane boredom are levied at this writing. I hope it stands up in the court of public opinion lest I be flogged and flamed into internetblivion.

I do this in support of Michael. I should have named it the Michael B. Memorial Blog – (MBMB) . Heck, if he passes before me I might just rename it!
(It’s a horrible Blog Name Michael, don’t do anything stupid now!)

The fact is that I was coerced into creating this account. (It wasn’t me, it was the one-armed man!). A very good friend of mine of many years (see how carefully I avoided calling him an “old” friend.. we both turned 50 this year and are still assimilating {Resistance is Futile! }), Michael, has started a blog and asked for me to take a look. After a quick perusal I was ready to give the Thumbs Up, but in order to comment on his page… in order to “Like” his post… I was pushed down a path of creating my own account on this site. In retrospect, I’m sure there is a method of doing so without having to set up an account, but at the time I obediently followed the path through the cattle runs, mornfully mooing my objections, yet dutifuly following instructions. Hopefully if you are inclined to comment here, you will find the secret path, for you are all smarter than me.

The hardest part about setting up the account was coming up with ”The Title“. Acknowledgements to Scott for his suggestions. When asked to describe my online postings from fantasy forums and instant message blurbs he was quick to sum up the quantity and quality of my creative prose…. Thankfully, he continued to submit other options until we found something that was fit for public display and not require PG-13 clearance. The Scenic Route. Because Mr Wordy rarely takes the direct path. His thoughts make knight jumps based on very loose connections.  Maybe a phrase, more likely a song, or an imaged that reminds of something else. He may lead you up to the punch line, and expect you to supply it yourself. Or he may shot gun things at you hoping that something will hit.. something will strike a chord.  Or he may unexplicably start refering to himself in the 3rd person or by nicknames and expect you to completely understand. And god forbid you actually do follow all these manic tangetial leaps, then you may be as afflicted as me and the chorus of voices in my head – and your family has my sincere condolences.

I make no promises whatsoever as to the content or timeliness of this endeavor. I figure if Michael is making a committment to writing, I shall follow his lead. Those that know me, understand that not having done more writing is one of my big regrets, so it is time to at least dabble a bit. I predict that there will be a lot of lists, tangents, tons of parenthetical asides, and a lot of attempts at humor.  (not to mention poor grammer & spelling, runon sentences, and way too many commas). It usually doesn’t take too much to start “the machine” as some of my friends have called it. Just be careful, because you never know just how much … stuff… will come pouring out when you start it.

The good thing is that here… you can always just move on to another page. (Run! Save yourself!) For those that haven’t already done that, I dare you to come back again, leave me a comment, drop some coin in the slot and see what the machine spits out.   Occasionaly,  it’s entertaining. Heck you might even give a wry smirk-n-snort (a la Ray). Once in a while I might even get you to think a bit (Hmmm). To look at the other side of things. Or maybe I might live up to a moniker one of my former managers gave me. IGCRAD. Is Generally Considered Rude And Discourteous. But that’s another story…

And after a half century of … being me… I have a few stories.  So this is where I shall start to share them. But don’t blame me… Blame Michael.  Or go read his blog for something with real substance. Some meat… Come back here for a wafer thin after dinner mint.  It might just blow your mind.

Today I bring you my photo of Cracker Barrel!!

Jazuliness is not a real word, but it is copyrighted by me and if anyone else claims to have created it then I have legal permission to chop their arms off and cut out one of their kidneys. Not really, but I will do severe damage to you physically and mentally if you claim to have created my word, whether I have legal permission or not so DON’T PLAGARIZE.

Jazuli (jazz-OO-lee) adjective; awesome, impressive, especially admirable ex. Alena’s blog is incredibly jazuli. 

Most comforting about the particular setting and timing of discovery tonight is the obvious: I could have just gone right back home. For what, I am not sure: to hold the public bathroom’s verdict up to the scrutiny of my private bathroom’s trustworthiness, to snap a photodocumentary no one but I would care to revisit, to wail and moan and get the Holy Ghost, to call my best friends and family with an announcement? Thankfully, I stayed where I was. The event in waiting, a film screening of the film My Brother’s Wedding with director Charles Burnett present and introduced by my mentor Jacqueline Stewart, was a grateful distraction to this new fact of my life. The former I love in spirit and the latter I love in person; if I would love the movie or not remained to be seen, but I would never know if I did not stay and follow the hunch that I would.

Therefore, that alternate person inside me who noticed the gray was forced to come and go, with little to trigger or say. The work of a great artist awaited. I was expecting to see friends. And, most basically, I was at the movies for the first time in a long time. I could not spend time to create analogies with my hair and the lower half of my stomach, or the back of my arms, or the faded glory of my teeth, or my missing big house with a white picket fence and family dog. I can not imagine if I had been home with nothing at all to do upon such a discovery, this new dimension to what a woman might call her little “friend.” With so much else to think of in the moment of discovery, my existential crisis could not linger. I told my friends there about the gray hair. And so she was formally born, just as inconsequential as a few extra pounds but nothing close to losing a virginity.

At present, I am 36-years old and this lone gray hair may be the only thing to remind others of it. Even worse, I need the reminder more than others may. I do not have pre-teens blowing up my Smart Phone with their catastrophes or loan requests to me, “Mom.” I do not have babies younger. I have never breastfed. I do not have a mortgage in good standing or foreclosure, nor a husband with his own companion gray head of hair to clue others into how long we have been married–thus how old I could really be. For most of the people who know me, I remain fixated in a perpetual fountain of youth most known for my dimples, bright smile, funny jokes and abilities to be there at the last minute with no extenuating circumstances to prevent such.

For the last 5 years, I have asked no one in particular to bring me my gray hairs. When I have been the only person at a table of fine food to be carded for my usual order of house Merlot, I have remarked: “I’ll be glad when I get my gray.” When I have walked down the streets dressed casually for the day or a bit more polished for work, but approached lewdly by men young and old either way, I have asked for gray hairs; surely, no one irritates my aunts or grandmothers on their ways about town. When I have walked into a community center or artistic venue seeking information or tickets, and had the blase attendant ask me my age after clarifying I must come with my parents, I have nearly screamed for gray hair. When I have been in a high-end store or dropped more than an allowance on a necessary adult expenditure, my handlers in these moments have surveyed me less as an adult customer to respect and more as a little Black girl to suspect. I have wished for gray hairs, in hopes I may have been treated a little better.

In the self-deprecating and sad rages that followed this most gross example of such occurrences, I have come to near tears and butterflies wishing for gray hairs, to certify and dignify me at last: like a girl waiting for her period to get back at bossy adults, or an adolescent scorning the tooth fairy for her dollar under the pillow when one last baby tooth lost will reward so much more payment than that, or a Black woman sat-in at the counter of Woolworth’s to declare that she can not be slighted based upon how she looked. For, it seemed that a scalp of innocuous gray hairs would assist me in exercising my full rights as an equal adult worthy of proper comportment and approach by other adults; that such thin and fine miracles could be my silent partners to shed any and all’s presumptions that I was young therefore subordinate, youthful therefore deferred, cute therefore “Seriously?”

And, so now, they are here.

I don’t have a green thumb so these moments of beauty, I cherish.

You have:

The Silent Observers: No-comment fans who read everything everyone posts but save their own comments and statuses to themselves. They’re mysterious fellows that only jump in for a conversation when necessary.

I haven’t changed my facebook profile pic ever since I opened my facebook account in 2008. I’m a definite facebook silent observer. Can’t help it!

The Know-It-Alls/Do-It-Alls: These are my favourite. They’re everywhere on facebook. They comment, check-in places, update their albums, videos and statuses every other minute. If a day passes without you knowing the what, the where, the how and the who of their daily activities then something is definitely wrong.

The facebook Games Fanatics: Is there a game these guys didn’t try on facebook? They’re always sending you game updates and game invites and their facebook walls are always jam packed with what score they’ve achieved and what level they’re now at. Even though you can limit what game invites you get from these guys, you can’t help but wonder where they get the time to have so much fun from.

The msn Style Writers: A huge amount of facebook users in Lebanon usually use the common msn style in writing. These promoters have gone to a no man’s land zone where they prefer expressing their opinions in a language that is somewhere in between English and Arabic combined; using English letters to write Arabic and Lebanese colloquial expressions. How interesting to have your own language online.

My friend shared this on my wall. She was expressing how sad she felt using the msn writing style when I left my previous job.

The facebook Newbies: These people are usually the moms and dads of all the youngsters out there. No offense moms and dads. It’s funny how you clumsily post 100 profile pictures a day of every individual in your family. I’m sure your kids are also embarrassed about those baby pictures you posted of them in your 20^th album.

Lets be real. Who really has time to craft during the day? I don’t and so it means a lot for me to get this done.

Stay tuned for the grandmothers responses.

Or download & Stream from here

http://www16.zippyshare.com/v/74775206/file.html

Salut moi c’est Sao:) J’ai 14 ans et j’adore la ode, la lecture et la musique. Ma vie est plutôt banal: École, travaux, dodo. J’ai deux sœurs plus jeunes et des parents. J’ai décidé de commencer ce blog, pour m’exprimer: comme tous les autres adolescents. Ce n’est pas mon premier blog que je fais. Je suis consciente qu’il y aura probablement personne qui le lira non plus, mais je le fait quand même.

Bref, je dois y aller, j’ai des examens qui m’attendent… -_-’

xx

My husband is “Jewish” as he puts it and I’m most comfortable with a bunch of women around the full moon. I don’t know where I’m at. Felt it necessary to go to church when my daughter was younger but never felt welcomed because I had a Jewish husband. So sad really.

I met my husband at a turning point in my life and what his religious upbringing was didn’t cross my mind at all.

This photo is taken at my in-laws Temple over this past weekend. Our superhero enjoying a bounce house and really….who doesn’t enjoy one?

Do you have a interfaith family? What are your thoughts?

Words to live by.

My boyfriend and I acquired matching vintage bikes passed down from his grandpa. They are 1984 Brittany Free Spirit’s that have, at most, been used three times. They are in perfect condition and are ideal for our rides around town picking up groceries, or in this case checking out San Diego’s infamous Art Walk.

I’m sure you will see more of this bike in the future, maybe next time with it’s pair.

xo C

This is a shot of my view all alone on a elevator up to the 9th floor at Cedars. I hate this elevator. It shakes. Not because it isn’t safe it just shakes and it scares me so.

My goal is to walk through these fears. It will happen. You’ll see.

Một cuộc thám hiểm thật sự không phải ở chỗ tìm kiếm những vùng đất mới, mà ở chỗ cần có đôi mắt mới

– Marcel Proust.
Tác giả của À la recherche du temps perdu ( Đi tìm thời gian đã mất). Nghe nói lâu rồi mà chưa đọc Để đi tìm đọc thử

This is one of two types of gift bags I’ll have at the boys birthday party this year.

I’m recycling sandwich bags and making my own gift bags.

Super Secret Liam Pants theme this year is “The World According to L” so there will be Donald gift bags and Superhero ones.

I’m not a super creative person BUT I think I was a bit creative and I think a bunch of 1 to 3 year olds will not care about the bag SO I will enjoy doing a bit more for my little Superhero, Donald Duck loving little guys 3rd Birthday.