Category: Nonsensical

Posted in Nonsensical, Pandemic, Storytime

Fact Checking Hate Mail

Posted on by Minimal.Effort

My ex-boyfriend’s mother decided to email me a week ago. There are two things interesting about this email:

  1. She made all these assumptions without speaking more than two words to me. I always say this but I’m ok with you hating me if you actually MET me.
  2. I don’t understand the hostility.
  3. I don’t know what she thought she would accomplish with this email. That I would silently cry to sleep? Or that I would lash back, when I really don’t know anything about her nor would she even read my words. So, I decided to post on facebook. Might as well let it all hang out. Majority of my friends know that she just doesn’t like me and I’ve accepted that as my destiny.

hokey.pxxxx@ 5:43 PM (1 hour ago)to me

Needless to say, I am aware of the latest addition of the disastrous debacle relating to your job firing from [TV company]

Well. First of all, this sentence doesn’t make sense. The latest addition to my debacle? My debacle relating to my job firing? So, that means I have a debacle, which is disastrous by the way. And it’s cousins with my job firing. But there are additions to this debacle and I think they are related to my lay-off.

FACT CHECK: I, along with 700ish other people got laid off NOT fired. Fired assumes that we did our job wrong and will not get severance. I wonder if I sent this comment to the entire department (yes, myself and an ENTIRE department was laid off), if they would take this criticism well?

https://variety.com/2020/tv/news/warnermedia-layoffs-warner-brothers-hbo-1234729976/

Spurred by my disgust and anger, I feel compelled to speak up.

This is something I saw on the Sopranos. Tony’s mom was always trying to get some ‘negative attention getting.’ When I’m disgusted and angry, I feel like vomiting. When it spurs me though, I actually vomit. But what I’m reading is….’before I vomit, I will compel myself to speak up.’

FACT CHECK: My ex and I dated for nearly 13 years. And in those 13 years, she has never felt compelled to speak up, she dumps it on my ex. Sooo…basically, she felt compelled to try to kick me while I’m down so I don’t have the energy to respond? I wasn’t sad though, I didn’t mind the lay-off. I need a break from corporate culture, so I was actually relieved. What she REALLY wanted is to be so hostile to me, so I wouldn’t think about getting back together with him OR for me to run to my ex and tattle on her so he is forced to communicate with her (I think they had a fight or something).

What I actually did is encourage him to get his own place and if he was interested in being in a relationship, I expect to be wooed by an adult man or Hugh Jackman. Whichever choice is available.

This firing came as no surprise. You have used every possible excuse, and various causes to milk [company] of their good intentions to help you. As I see it, you just wanted to stay home, sit on the couch and still get paid. That is still your objective. I predicted they would find a way to get rid of you. You were a problematic employee costing them money and leadership issues—TROUBLE with a capital T.

The person who wrote this was a music teacher in Maine. She has had the same job for decades and decades and decades. I simply cannot do that. There so many interesting mysteries and problems in the world that I want to experience. My resume and experience reflects that. I wanted to learn about post production, so I’ve pretty much done every single job in post production except run my own shop. I’ve been the post supervisor, phone support, project engineer, workflow consultant, trainer, project manager, technical advisor and subject matter expert to almost every network in the United States. She has complained to my ex that I’m merely a job-hopper who can’t keep a job. But, really, I get hired away constantly. I’m going to go where the package says ‘we acknowledge your talent, come work with us.’ In fact, I’ve received 5 job offers since I was laid off and I wasn’t even looking for a job! I actually declined all of them to work on writing for the rest of the year.

FACT CHECK: I actually tried to quit, not once, not twice but three times. My really awesome company said ‘Nope. You’re self-sabotaging, we’re going to get you help.’ I’m very lucky that this is inline with the mental health era where companies are actually starting to understand that you will make more money and better productivity if you check on your employees health from time to time. They got me help and when I returned, my was able to grow my team twice it size, finish a 90 page SOP (Standard Operating Procedure) and prepare a work at home environment. I could’ve just went to work everyday and stared at facebook and sent text messages during meetings. Instead, the investment into my mental health rewarded them with a highly engaged employee who was passionate about efficient workflows.

One can always pay for a sympathetic therapist to agree with you. It won’t help you, however.I have lost count of your job changes since [ex-boyfriend] has been with you. Guessing it might be 9. He has followed you from job to job, city to city and coast to coast all contributing to a financial calamity of expenses, over spending, unpaid bills.

The writer of this email OBVIOUSLY does not believe in healing power of psychotherapy. My only comment is, if she did have a therapist, she may have not sent this email. Maybe she could’ve called.

FACT CHECK: Dude, I have had WAY MORE than 9 jobs. My LinkedIn profile has more than 40 recommendations from all those jobs. I see it as a strength though, not weakness. Also, living in different areas of the country was pretty awesome. I think the South gets a bad rap, I think Massachusetts has the smartest and funniest people in America but they also have the most racist and elitist people too. (Side story: I had an argument with a Massachusetts bred gentlemen about baseball. I said Trevor Hoffman was a lights out pitcher, this gentlemen said the Hoff must be a terrible pitcher. I said, ‘no, lights out is you’re so good, that you turn off the lights and the game is over.’ He said ‘no, lights out means you’re terrible and the batters are hitting balls that are so high and gone, they are knocking out the light bulbs.’ I said that was a Disney movie and to google it. He refused to google. Elitist. Sigh.

I think the average time you have spent in a job is about a year and a half. Then as you stated in one of your face book rants, you get BORED and can’t imagine why you are unappreciated. BUT in your boredom, you plan another trip, another cruise, maybe cross Atlantic, or NZ, or Alaska all with money you don’t have or more specifically, what [ex-boyfriend] doesn’t have.

The average time is actually 2-3 years. I can’t help it if another company comes along with better salary or benefits. Or if that company will MOVE YOU ACROSS THE COUNTRY to one of the biggest cities in the country. I would be an idiot to not even consider the offers that come by. I don’t even know how she saw any of my facebook posts (find out later, cousin of ex-boyfriend read my posts to her over the phone. Talk about a shit stirrer. Promptly unfriended).

FACT CHECK: It’s true, I do get bored. I guess that’s a bad thing but for me, I’m just curious about EVERYTHING. I’m obsessed with perspective, experience, and different realities. I’m one of those people, when I’m on the freeway, I look at the other cars and wonder about all those peoples’ lives. What are they thinking? Where are they going? Is that guy picking his nose? But, I digress. It’s also true my ex and I went to vacations to NZ, Alaska and across the Atlantic. It is also true that my ex didn’t have any money during these trips — I did. I was bankrolling us for awhile when I was a freelancer. Sometimes I would get these 60 day jobs and I would get a big paycheck. What am I going to do with that paycheck? I’m going to effing New Zealand and check out Hobbiton. Or that cruise across the Atlantic (which drops us off at our doorstep in New York? Yes, please). I work hard, so I’m going to play hard as well.

By the way, since we are on the subject of face book, I have never read such a bunch of crap, such a bunch of shit and such a bunch of crazy ramblings. Why do you think people care??? MY analysis is that you want attention, and you want people to feel sorry for you. The feed back you are getting is misplaced because you are NOT smart or clever, except when it comes to capitalizing on the ME TOO movement.

Again, how did she read all this? I wonder how long she’s been reading this? Oh well. Yes, I may have crazy rambling and a bunch of shit, but it’s my shit that I’m sharing with my friends. If they weren’t my friends, I wouldn’t be sharing in the first place. And after a lot of these crazy post ramblings, I get a whole lot of email and texts about how much my friends care. They don’t have to do that.

FACT CHECK: Why do I think people care? Uh….because they told me and I don’t have any reason to not believe them. I didn’t ask for this white woman’s analysis but here she is, giving it to me. Anybody who is my friend knows the LAST thing I want is for people to feel sorry for me. I actually get angry if any of them did feel sorry for me. I guess I get a lot of feedback that I’m smart or clever because Hokey specifically calls out that I am NOT smart or clever.

Also, how does somebody capitalize on the Me Too movement? What am I getting paid for? Because if I was getting paid, I would started me-tooing in college, cause I got some college loans I need to pay off.

Now you’ve moved on to racism, sexism and white supremacy blaming all of them for yourlack of achievement. How convenient. Now you can sit on the couch and read books,lots of books and collect unemployment.

This is a loaded statement, coming from a teacher in Maine. I don’t say this disparagingly but how do you know if you never worked in a corporate environment where those aforementioned societal ills are present? She did say that ‘America is losing its white identity!’ Is she talking about plantations and colonization of other people? I’m not sure if that’s the kind of identity I would want hanging around.

Also, I never thought I had lacked any sort of achievement. In fact, I think I’m quite the opposite, I have a lot of achievement. I have my own apartment, a dog, I got to work at all the television places and I have great friends. That is achievement city. To go from poverty to firm middle class, that is harder than anybody shows on any television program or film.

FACT CHECK: Yes, I will read books. Lots of books! This is probably the most factual sentence in this email. But, I have never collected unemployment in my life (I didn’t even know you could do that!). I don’t think unemployment is the same as severance, so this statement is straight up incorrect.

I think money is your big motivator and since [ex] was tapped out, you were looking for another alternative which you didn’t find. My observation is that you need to BULLY, CONTROL, HELICOPTER, and have a lackey to do your bidding.

Money is a big motivator, yes. It’s not my only motivator though. I don’t know why she’s so obsessed with money since I’m paying for all the vacations and paying my own rent. My ex is the one living with relatives.

FACT CHECK: I don’t know what she’s observing since this woman has refused to meet me. If bully, control and helicoptering means that I like to have my alone time and lots of space, then yes, I guess I do all those things? But, I don’t think that’s what that means. Also, this assumes that my ex is a robot that cannot make decisions or choices about his life. If somebody was bullying, controlling and helicoptering me, I would ghost with a quickness.

[Ex] recently told me that it was an ABUSIVE relationship.

FACT CHECK: Good thing I broke up with him…. a year and a half ago!

Apparently, he’s put that aside. Unbelievable..Hopefully, he’ll do the right thing.

Versus the left thing?

FACT CHECK: This is referring to the fact that I let my ex stay at my apartment for several months due to COVID status. He did a job in NY and his relatives in CT asked for him to stay in NJ. So, I think what this says is that he’s put the abusive relationship (that I eneded) aside to voluntarily stay with me, because he asked me to? Must be those observing glasses previously mentioned.

I see you as self-indulgent, self-absorbed, lazy, and money hungry and oh, an unrealistic dreamer of a pipe dreams not grounded in reality.Chad is NOT your keeper, or your care giver or your sugar daddy. He owes you NOTHING.

These characteristics may all be true but I don’t care! I never forced anybody to like me because it’s too exhausting (laziness). I do buy myself presents and food (self-indulgent). I may have super absorbent underwear (self-absorbed) and money hungry. Hmmm. I do want to be paid my worth in talent and experience…if that’s money hungry, then I’m ready to eat.

FACT CHECK: Ex is too busy being on the road to be any of those things. I WISH he was my sugar daddy! How do I get one of those? But, tis true, he doesn’t owe me anything as well as nothing.

He was on the road to making a new life for himself, cleaning up the mess of the last 10 years until he got suckered back in. Probably lots of crocodile tears, “Woe is me”, “Now I can’t pay my rent” have come into play. Ex to the rescue again. Isn’t this deja-vue from the loss of an apt in Brooklyn? History repeats.

I have NEVER said woe is me. Is that a white people thing? My ex didn’t come to my rescue. Regarding Brooklyn. I had plans to move to Seattle and ex asked me to move in with him. Repeatedly. So, this history is in an alternate universe.

It is never going to change. You will still be a needy, manipulating, parasite.

I would hope that the son she raised would see and dump me if I was a needy, manipulating parasite. Otherwise, isn’t that just bad parenting?

Btw, let’s call a spade a spade. You don’t love ex. You are just using him to do your work and come up with the money.You’ve done your best to alienate him from his family. He chooses to go dark. He’s ashamed and embarrassed by this situation.

I don’t know how telling my ex to call his mom is alienating him. I would prefer that I heard from the person (in this case, the ex) to tell me he’s ashamed and embarrassed. I don’t know, I would be ashamed and embarrassed if my mother sent this to him. Just saying.

He needs to pack up his stuff and get out of that toxic, blood sucking environment. He has a family who cares about him and he has a home and people who love him.

And writes cruel and untrue emails without any facts. Don’t forget about that part.

You are a complete nut case, a metal and emotional mess.

Thanks! I prefer to be aluminum (because how its pronounced in the UK) but any metal will do.

Pack up and go home to Mama if you are still speaking to any of them. Criticism is a bitch, isn’t it?

I guess? If the criticism is true? Is this criticism? Or is this really asking my ex to call you?

Don’t bother to respond to this. Nothing you can say is explanatory. Don’t want to hear it.

Ok! You’re the one I had to block though after you kept emailing.

Never underestimate a mother who sees a dishonest, manipulative situation

I’m surprised took this long to do this, quite actually. No matter, I am still single!

Posted in Nonsensical

A plate of corn

Posted on by Minimal.Effort
My dinner

So, I always get teased about eating a plate of corn for a meal. I have this habit of eating for corn for lunch. It seems like a win-win! It’s counts as a vegetable in my Noom app (although, I think it’s technically a starch. It’s a starchy vegetable, right?), I can heat it in this microwaveable bag for like 3 minutes and dump it on the plate. Nothing fancy, maybe a little bit of butter and salt. And it’s healthier than some other available lunches — most notably Shake Shack burgers and fried chicken. I love fried chicken ( I have yet to find the fried chicken to rule them all. I had to take a break because I need pants to fit).

When I first got teased for it, I was living in DC I think. Sharon’s plate of corn, as they called it. But when I had different people comment on it at different jobs, I knew it was something that was probably an atypical meal.

I also have had spaghettios for breakfast and chopped roasted potatoes for dinner. I wonder if it’s a socioeconomic thing? When I was younger, I was given $5.00 a week to eat lunch. Well, when flaming hot cheetos is $1.07 (99 cents but 1.07 after tax), so I could afford 4 flaming hot cheetos for the week. Anyway, I figured out that you can have 3 top ramens for 99 cents, a can of corn for like 50 cents, spaghettios for like 65 cents. Something like that. I pretty much ate alone most of my elementary school year, 7th and 8th grade. 9th grade, I somehow made friends and gravitated from one eating group to another (that’s a different story). So, when I think cheap, easy meal…hello plate of corn!

What do you think? Am I the only person who does this?

Posted in Nonsensical

I forgot what I was going to write about.

Posted on by Minimal.Effort

I see and hear things every day and think ‘I should write about this.’ Then I get another idea and another. So, I think…maybe I should carry around a notepad or a tape recorder. I download a bunch of note-taking apps. All installed, none of them open. Then I go to Best Buy and start looking at tape recorders, like the ones you see with reporters. (Idea: Do ranking of favorite journalism movies) Well, I got this far, I’m looking at this recorder for $39.99…and I think….what was my idea again? Bah. I leave.

As I drive home, I remember all my ideas plus 10 more amazing things I need to write about this instant. Ugh, but I don’t want to do a u-turn. Anyway, this was turning into too much effort. So, I guess I’m doomed forever to stare at a blank page, knowing that somewhere in my subconscious I probably have figured out the cure for cancer, another new game theory and how to play 800 instruments.

So, this entry will have to do for now. Fin.

Posted in Nonsensical, Storytime

The Rat Race

Posted on by Minimal.Effort


“The trouble with being in the rat race is that even if you win, you’re still a rat.” –Lily Tomlin

I’m sort of going through a quarter-life plus 10 years crisis.  A few months ago, I came to the “epiphany” that I was in the wrong career field and doing the wrong job.  I have been having these thoughts for many years now but I was too enticed by the money to have the balls to quit.  One day, after a slew of emails (that I typically respond with a politically correct solution), I just decided I have had it.  Here is a sample of my responses: 

“Dear xxx,Putting your email in all capitals is inappropriate. If you had followed the process that you blatantly ignored, your crisis would not be happening”

“Dear xxx,If you treated your people a little better, maybe they would stop leaving your team”

“Dear xxx,Isn’t is nice that you are blaming me for not doing something, when in essence, it is YOUR job to do in the first place?”

“Dear xxx, Please find a new person to head this project. I have put in my resignation.”

After about a few of those emails, I had talked to my significant other about leaving the business all together.  Bless him, he said “I just want you to be happy. Do it”.  So I put in my resignation and my soul (if souls exist) let out a big sigh.  
However, I still need money, so I am freelancing.  I calculated that if I did 1-2 jobs a month, I should be able to contribute to the household appropriately. I did have to give up some things like expensive shampoos and my once-a-month massage habit but I think it was well-worth it.  So, it’s been about 2 months since I’ve resigned.


Now what?


I decided to take some classes at things I thought I would be good at—a bunch of improv classes and some sketch writing classes. I mean, I like comedy and I like writing. Will they like me back? It’s too early to tell at this point, but my secret fantasy was that I would be so AWESOME and my secret talent would come seeping through my skin that it was a big question mark as to why I never pursued improv and/or sketch writing in the first place.  Alas, that did not happen.  I turned out to be somewhat funny in sketch writing and just okay at improv. (Side note: It didn’t help that one of the improv classes I hated because it felt so “actory” and cliquey and…young!)  I think that is my biggest problem, that I just want to be able to pick up something and become the savant that the world has been waiting for.  However, I think I can be good at improv/sketch if I just kept doing it, so there’s that.


Unfortunately, I feel just like everyone else. Ordinary. A little bit better at some things than other people, a little bit worse (or a lot worse) than other people.  A lot of things I have done, I just plain suck at.  Like, triathalon training? I suck. Singing? I can’t hold a tune. Sign language? I got the alphabet down.  I keep taking these classes in hopes that something will hit me over the head and say “this is what you are meant to do”.
The closest thing I can think of, that I might be good at, is writing.  But, I have such a hard time with coming up with cool ideas, funny premises and interesting stories that I just don’t think I have the ability to pull it off.  


I wrote a bunch of sketches for a class, that thankfully, the class laughed at.  It felt REALLY good when my teacher laughed at it.  But, I still keep thinking–what can I do with this? Where can I go with this? Is it too crazy for me to pursue this?  The thought that kills me is What if I’m not really that good and I’m just trying to convince myself otherwise?Right now, I’m feeling like the main character in a book called “A Spell for Chameleon”.  In the book,  at a certain age, everyone in the land of Xanth has a special power.  Bink (I think that was his name, I read this in high school) just didn’t seem to have one and for years, they thought of him as this talentless being.  He was even thinking “Oh god, if I could just make something from yellow to green, at least that would be SOMETHING”. Anyway, it turns out in the book that he is actually a powerful magician and his talent is that he cannot be harmed by magic (which is concealed by making it look like he escapes danger by luck or coincidence).  Long story short, it took forever for Bink to figure it out because his talent was concealing itself in order to make him less vulnerable to non-magic attacks.  But, what comes to mind to me is that, in all those years he thought he didn’t have a talent, it must’ve been kind of lame being Bink.


I’m hoping that’s my problem. I just can’t see what I’m good at and it’ll reveal itself at some point in time.  If I find out, I’m just average at everything then…it’s just really going to suck to be me.

Posted in Nonsensical, Storytime

How I ended up doing a triathalon

Posted on by Minimal.Effort

Before I can write about how I got involved with doing the triathalon with Team in Training, I have to mention how I got involved with Team in Training in the first place. I joined my very first event with TNT in 2010. Jen, my childhood girlfriend (since the 5th grade) had never been to DC and we were planning a roadtrip in mid-April 2010. In late March, I got a mysterious message from her that she couldn’t make it because she was “sick”. I thought that was unusual to back out because of illness; I mean would you let a cold lead you to cancel your flight?

Two days later, she wrote to me (she was too scared to call me because she said she would burst into tears) and said that she was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. She was somewhat positive because there was a 95% chance of survival. I, of course, freaked out and said “What about the other 5%?!?!” Feeling helpless, I checked the mail and received a flyer to join a team for the Lymphoma and Leukemia Society. I hemmed and hawed at it until I had dinner the next night. I met with friends for dinner and one of them, Julie, and I, got along extremely well. She ended up driving me home that night and she started talking to me about her daughter, Ryan Marie. Ryan Marie had passed away from Leukemia when she was 3 years old. This year, she would’ve been 8 years old. So I went to the info session, had my fears qualmed by a woman named Dania, and thought it was extremely coincidental that I would know one person who was diagnosed with Lymphoma and another who passed away from Leukemia. So I signed up. Subsequently, I did two more events with the marathon team and would always look at the triathalon team and think, “there is NO way I’m doing a triathalon”…until last year. My cousin sends me a message last April, telling me that she had just been diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. What are the chances that I would know 3 people with a blood cancer? Anyway, she was terrified of going to chemo and I don’t know what happened, but I started saying that I would do something, in honor of her, that terrified me. So of course, silly me, I said I would do a triathalon. I would do an event for each of my honored teammates and indirectly go through a scary journey (not comparable to cancer but its something, right?) “with them”. Let me tell you, I wanted to give up the first week we started. The first time I swam at the rec center, I couldn’t make it to the other end of the pool. (Apparently, dog paddling doesn’t count). My first bike ride, I was out of breath after 15 minutes. I have the sad commuter bike that I bike with my running shoes…I’m too intimidated to get those crazy clip in shoes. It took me 45 minutes to figure out how to use my bike rack. I have a sensitivity to chlorine. I was tired all time and regretting not having a social life anymore. But the reason I didn’t give up was always different. One week, when I’m feeling down, Julie would facebook me. Another week, Jender (5th grade friend) would call me to visit. My cousin’s sister (also my cousin) would send me a donation. I would swim 500 meters. I would do my first brick. My mentor Ali would talk me out of it. I would read a touching story from our Mission Mentor (those emails really work for somebody like me, who always wants to give up) and each thing would come at a time where I was ready to send TNT an email that I wanted to quit. I mean, isn’t raising money enough? Well, now its too late. I gave up Diet Coke. I gave up alcohol. I gave up fried food. (until the triathalon anyway). I’ve lost almost 30 pounds since January, I can bike 100 minutes and then run for 20 minutes afterward. I swam a mile for the first time ever today. I ran a half marathon 2 weeks ago and improved my time by 15 minutes. I can kick my boyfriend’s ass on the bike and on a run, even though his legs are twice as long as mine. (He can’t even keep up anymore!) So anyway, I am hardly an athlete and I’m still overweight but I feel if I could finish this damned race, I can do almost anything. I feel I should write a better ending to this post, but I can’t think of anything cool. Blargh. How about: well, if you want to support me, please donate to my cause. I am almost 80% there! http://pages.teamintraining.org/nca/anttry12/smayof

In honor of Ryan Marie

Posted in Nonsensical

Writing Christmas Cards

Posted on by Minimal.Effort
Yeah….I don’t have THAT many friends to write to.

So it’s been 6 months since I’ve written in this blog. I wish there was a way for Siri to take down blog entries for me (even though I don’t have an Iphone) and then I could re-edit, then I would definitely be dedicated to writing to this blog more often. Here’s what has happened since my last entry in July: 1. New job in McLean. Yay! 2. New MINI Cooper. Yay! 3. New bigger and awesomer apartment with the boyfriend. Yay !4. Got Comic Con 4 day passes for 2012. Yay! 5. Training for a triathlon. Um…. (but yay for raising the funds for beating blood cancers) 6. My dogs are alive and healthy. Yay! 7. New big-ass TV. Yay!8. Seeing a chiropractor because I thought I had carpal tunnel. Yay? Ok. I think that’s it for now. I will say, even though these are exciting new changes, they are freaking stressful and it took me awhile to get things balanced and stuff. Triathalon training: So. This crap is hard. Like hard. It’s only been my first month and its still hard. Does it get any easier? Also, it doesn’t help that I mis-read the schedule. On Sundays, it says to either run or swim…and I thought it said to run AND swim….and I’m doing a bit of side training for the Princess Half Marathon in Disney World, so two weeks ago, I ran 5 miles and then went swimming for half an hour, then I went to spin class the next day, then to swim practice the next morning. By Wednesday I was out for the count and slept for like 14 hours. Lo and behold, I’ve been doing a bit too much. So, come January, I’m going to try this crap again and try to do it properly. So, I was writing Christmas cards (or holiday cards) and I was thinking that, other than my co-workers, these were friends that I knew for almost a decade or more and how lucky I am to have these friends to write cards to. However, I haven’t written Christmas cards or mailed them since my 20s. I remember when I was younger, writing cards was no big deal. I’m going to do them this year and be the good ol’ friend I used to be. I’m a good ol’ friend, right? Well, I write in them, seal them (and the bf stamped them with our address with glee, having a new address stamp thingy)…then my hand was tired. Then I found I had to look up addresses. Then you’ll never believe what else I had to do. I then had to WRITE these addresses? Then buy postage? Then mail them? This is a lot of work! Like, this didn’t seem like work before, but now, all these little thingies I need to do to seem thoughtful and awesome is already tiring. The only cards I have given out are to my coworkers. I went through all this effort to write personalized messages and….they read it in 2 seconds. Sigh. I should just sign all cards “you know you love/like/adore me and stuff” but I can’t bring myself to not write something other than a signature. So yeah. I haven’t mailed anything yet. But I cannot put effort for writing (and trying to be funny and/or witty and/or thoughtful) to waste! Oh well, perhaps I’ll seem like a rebel if people receive them after January 1st. Or late. Like I am for everything. (Well, I’m late because my boyfriend is a dilly-dallier and takes forever for everything. Before him, I was very punctual) Happy after Christmas before New Year’s everyone!

Posted in Nonsensical

Does Passion Die?

Posted on by Minimal.Effort

I was recounting memories with a friend of mine last night and said that there was a moment in my life where I could have chosen two different paths:  Path A led to a freelancing life, wondering where my next paycheck was going to come from, part-time coffee maker, part-time Production Assistant…with the hope I can become a writer-director and moving up the ranks of the film industry.  Path B led to a corporate job, adjacent to the film field filled with comfortable practical things such as health insurance and a steady paycheck.

In the end, I chose Path B. The cushy life.

And I will say, I have a pretty good life: a great committed boyfriend who loves the same things and activities as I do, two great corgis who think my bf and I are the best humans on Earth, a quirky apartment filled with any sort geeky technological toys that can fill up the day and a steady job with people I like to work with.  So, life complete, right?

However, when I was talking to my friend, I indicated that nothing really sort of excites me anymore.  The most exciting thing I ever felt about my life was when I was accepted to NYU Film School.  I had so much hope, such big dreams and even bigger ambition.  The possible potential of how far and how high I can go seemed endless.  I loved college and if I could have a career in taking college classes, I would do that forever.  Even more so, if money was no object in our society, I would take college classes for free.

But then society gets in the way of your hopes, dreams and potential.  Well, the bigger query is: did society get in the way or did reality get in the way?  If I had a scale, the weight of practical things outweigh the weight of passion.  I suppose it depends on how you’re built.  I’m built for practicality I guess. I hate it though. I hate being practical and it haunts me to this day.

So the questions lies: does passion die? Did my passion die to become a filmmaker and make stories that mean something? Can I just be happy with my comfortable life? I can afford to travel to places for FUN dependent on my vacation time.  I have a MiniCooper to look forward to in the coming months.  I’m triathalon training. And yet, why do I still feel this emptiness from the inability of being able to do something I’m passionate about? What do people do when they can’t pursue their passion? Where does the passion go?

A part of me wishes it dies so I can just be happy with my life. My great comfortable life.  A life where I watch a movie trailer and instead of feeling sad that it’s not MY trailer on that screen, I feel excited that a great movie is coming out.  A life where talking and watching films are just enough for me.

I still have dreams of making a movie, of having a story to tell.  Sometimes I wish that dream would die so I wouldn’t have to write pathetic blog entries about what could’ve been and the life I’ve decided to live with.

Posted in Nonsensical

I hate my room

Posted on by Minimal.Effort

I am a pack rat.

I like to save everything. I especially save all my essays, scripts, short stories and anything else of that nature in an envelope.

Every now and then, I will take it out and look at it and recall that point in time..etc..etc.

I was particulary interested to look at the essay I wrote when I was applying to NYU. I read a journal and he displayed his essay about a sort of best friend love (which was very interesting) and for a high school student, he was very articulate. It was quite impressive.

Then I started to think…what did I write? And thus, begins my search.

I hate my room. (hence the subject header)

I couldn’t find it ANYWHERE! I am greatly saddened and a bit angry. Well the hell could it be? Not only my essay is there but my senior thesis script (it is about insomnia) and my essay about hemphrodites. These are very precious stories.

Now I feel I have nothing to show for it.

However, I must stop this search and pack for my 4 day Massachusetts-NewYork-Maryland escapade. I do not want to pack though, I want to find those damn essays.

I also want to watch PUNK’D all day but we must do the practical things…such as be very selective about what music I am listening to my road trip and what books I will read on the plane.

Sniff. Do I have nothing to show for my hard work??? Damn, I really should’ve saved things on disk

Posted in Creative Effort, Nonsensical, San Diego, Topical

Retaliatory piece for Wilbur

Posted on by Minimal.Effort

Sheesh.

In my weekly/bi-weekly correspondence with the above mentioned individual, he has blatantly pointed out (with subtle sarcasm) that the writer of this journal is getting quite lazy with utilizing her potential ability to succumb to her well-versed academia with the English language and the like. Therefore, this journal entry my relatiatory piece (since I am a retalitatory type of person) to bring peace with WILBUR. (he has also complained that I have dubbed him with the objective pronoun “childhood friend” in previous entries and he would like the dignity and honor of having a name. However, he has requested for the moniker of Bin Laden to give him some sort of clout in the matter but I fear that the CIA may arrest me for custody for such trivial and seemingly facetious matters)

Dear reader, as you may recall, my inability to write more frequently has proven myself to commited the sin of sloth and thereby this opus will be quite lenghty and have the high probabilty of being pure drivel whereby something of this caliber might of be something of interest to the disinterested reader who is sicken or grieved since I have succumbed to such mundane language and filler. Hence, I present to you, the most interesting misadventures of yours truly to date. Is your curiousity piqued?

First misadventure (please be aware, this will probably written out of order):
Wilbur and I were to attend a club dubbed “The Comedy Store” with my fellow friends soon to be mutual compadres with Wilbur (should I be obliged to put Wilbur in capitals so he may feel even more special than the usual person in an entry? My humor may not be appreciated. Alas, I digress) i.e. Tyler, Kathleen, Aldryn (fellow co-employee with Wilbur) Kay aka Kristina, and Don. However, I noted that I had just recently underwent a folicle changing process which was quite lengthy in time thereby backlogging my day by an hour. You see, our general plan was for me to pick up Wilbur in Imperial Beach (his place of residence) “grab” a quick “bite” to “eat” (I think the agreed carcass was a chicken between two slices of bread. In the common tongue, it is defined as a sandwich a la chicken/chicken sandwich). I especially was succumbing to hunger since I have not consumed anything of worth since the noontime. When I went to pick up Wilbur (i mean, WILBUR) I found to my dismay that the clock warned it was 7:00 p.m. and I had to be at Tyler’s abode by 7:30 p.m. Please be advised that I had to transport ourselves from Imperial Beach (near the border for those who are directionally miseducated) to La Jolla..in half an hour. The consumption of carcass was dismissed as I broke several moving violations in the honor of my obsession with punctuality.

I made it to Tyler’s at 7:31 p.m. which made me quite please. We enter the Comedy Store and in order to develop some sort of comaderie with my peers, I ordered a drink. Please note that the narrator of this story had no intentions of being inebriated since appointed the designated driver. Kathleen, seeing that my drunken behavior is waning, in throes of celebration of having a part time job, and perhaps the misled into believing I could “hold my own” ordered a Long Island Iced Tea to continue the inebriated mentality.

Quite drunk and feeling feisty, I slurred several words and steps into the line at Moondoggies. Thinking I was able to consume food and/or alcohol, I unwittingly accepted a nicotine stick from WILBUR. A slim stick which appeared to be European. However, slim sticks does not guarantee slim/lack of nicotine. Quite the opposite, I belive. This effect only intensified the alcohol’s power and I have the overwhelming urge to have my food regurgitated.

HOWEVER, I HAVE NOT CONSUMED FOOD SINCE NOON. We deftly left Moondoggies and headed toward its neighbor, (neighbour in british) Hard Rock Cafe. I vaguely remember stumbling into the entrance and the protector at its gates questioning my ability to communicate. I passed the test and WILBUR, bless his heart, led this drunkard to the water closet.

20 minutes later of dry heaving, WILBUR was patiently waiting at the door of the ladies room with a look of concern. I opined that I was going to live and we headed off to the booths were the rest of the party was socializing. Unfortunately, the lack of food also intensified the absorption of alcohol in my system and I begrudgingly (but rapidly) made several trips (I believe it was around 15-25 trips) to the my favorite stall and toilet to vomit NOTHING. Of course, I became the brunt of the jokes for my weak stomach (Remember, dear reader, I only had TWO drinks. a heinken and a long island iced tea) Aldryn kept voicing his opinion that I should “represent for the east coast/NYU” and continued to place drinks in front of my tired espophagus. My glasses had fallen and Wilbur had apparenlty bought yours truly a drink or two but I was consummating a relationship with a toilet 90% of the time. Being the good friend that he is, he parched his own thirst with my supposed drinks.

Fortunately, since my system was literally sparse with ANYTHING, I was able to drive WILBUR and I home with the pleasant company of Red Hot Chili Peppers in my c.d. player.

That is just one of the many misadventures (and adventures) that this pseudo writer has experienced. There is a hiking trip, a Halo experience, and many eating experiences to be transcribed but alas, it will have to wait for another time I should diary such things.

Additionally, I took the unfortunate risk of taking a class with a fellow female exerciser. We decided to take a class named “Fat Burner Extreme.” Needless to say, I was petrified of such a class that would indicate it was 2 hours long. However, we decided to bury our fear and went to the saturday morning class.

8,000 lunges later, my thighs were shaking and Cyndy’s back was screaming for mercy. The instructor was impressed with our beginnings and opined that we could sit and stretch while the remainder of the small class finished 8,000 more lunges. I was quite surprised that I did not have muscles bulging out of my arms and my stomach was firm from the 900 ab exercises. Ironically, we walked of the class streesed and somewhat relieved to we survived. To celebrate, we took a drag of some Marlboro Lights. For fear we may be caught by the health instructor, we took our vices into the cyndy’s truck.

24 hours later, my body had efficiently burned a bazillion calories and watched 18 episodes of Sex and the City. Unfortunatley, this fat burning machine was also in the throes of PAIN. They screamed for mercy and asked their owner why everything past the neck had been pulled, stressed, and manipulated in an unusual way. To punish their owner, my body refused to move with ease and thus, I became a sore cripple. Utilizing the bathroom was a scream and a half and going up the stairs…Eeks! Cyndy called me the next morning (this morning) to express her likewise experience and noted that she would remain in bed until her muscles were well-taken to movement.

I, on the other hand, decided to defy the soreness (no pain, no gain..etcetera) and run some errands with a girlfriend, (wallaine) and eat many delcious treats. Moaning and groaning with pain when entering and exiting her car was quite entertaining for her.

I don’t fucking care anymore though, I’m going back to that damn fat burner extreme class next week to prove myself (lack of self control on the profanity)

All right. It is past midnight. I must succumb to my circadian clock and it’s partner, the hypothalamus and put this aching body to rest. Put on the dvd and set the timer on the television. This mind refuses to rest unless blocked out with the ordinary background noise.

Good night dear readers.

Posted in Nonsensical

chaos theory

Posted on by Minimal.Effort

You know what would be a great invention?

If I could figure out how to make cheesecake to raise your metabolism. I swear, there has to be some sort of scientist guy who needs to work on that. Or key lime pie that raised your metabolism. Whatever the case may be, someone should be working on this. Of course this the sloth in me talking. I’m sure I’ll have a different mentality tomorrow.

Nah. Probably not.

My hair is driving me crazy. My roots are like screaming at people “Look at me and how I’m ruining sharon’s life!” I suppose it is sort of comforting to be going crazy of something so tedious than to be going crazy over not having toes or something. (Frida reference) Which, by the way, I saw Frida last night, which I will divulge in my next journal entry.

Do they have edible candle wax? Just curious.

btw, need a maintenance man but that’s another story (enter song here: “the never ending stooorreeee” ….’BASTIAN! SAY MY NAME!!!!!”)

Man, I have to watch that movie again. I think I’ve lost my mind. I”m rambling about random things. However, things are never REALLY random (uh-oh…digging the hole, digging the hole)

Supposedly, nothing in the universe is random according to the chaos theory.

So call this a random journal entry but it is just the invisible energies of the chaos theory at work. Oooh. it’s raining hard outside…coincidence?? I think not. It’s the CHAOS THEORY! AHHHHH!!!!