a backhanded screw...

woohooo! can i have your attention!

i just wanted to let you know that there is only a minimal increase in your benefits costs for 2009... that's right, just 3.8%. isn't that splendid? wow! we rock!

(your cost of living increase for 2009 will be 3%)

the answer is omelets...

have you ever seen runaway bride?

julia roberts' character finally falls for the right guy (richard gere), but ultimately she runs away.

why?

because she doesn't know what kind of eggs she likes.

it's a common problem for women. we sometimes forget who we are, or we never find out. instead we become what we think our boyfriends or husbands want us to be.

some women stop doing things, saying things, dressing certain ways. we tuck our identities away in a spiffy hope chest to pass on to our daughters.

it is much, much easier to pack away dreams than throwing on the brakes and cooking fifteen varieties of eggs.

everyone does not suffer this fate. i bow down and commend their strength and conviction.

but, to those of us who have dropped a few eggs and broken too many hearts, i like omelets. how about you?

finally, a naked man i can live with.

it took a month and nearly two pads of newsprint, but finally, i drew a model to my own satisfaction. oh, i'd make changes and if i had it here right this second with an eraser near by, i'd be busy screwing it up royally.

i've been approaching my lines as if they were law. the first ones were light and unsure. things get darker, but they were still an outline. no depth, no shadows, no fluidity.

tonight, we moved into ten minute poses. the teacher announced that he'd be standing with each of us for a whole pose. i was crushed and horrified. of course, i was second. after getting called out for not knowing the definition of a word, here i was being scrutinized on my timid lines.

"it's utterly unnerving to have you stand behind me," i declared.

bob took my charcoal and said "what am i looking for?"

"angle of the pelvic girdle, shoulder and vertebrae," i muttered. and with that, all hell broke loose. bob's hand circled and hesitated, but never left the paper. in less than five minutes he had created a beautiful sketch with every marker and extraordinary movement.

he turned and said, 'i hope that helps." i stood there with my mouth agape.

for five minutes i traced my fingers along the lines, glancing at the model and returning to the definition and shading. i noted the random lines and studied how his hand had deftly worked inside the figure--a phrase i only just that moment truly understood.

with the next pose, i reminded my hands not to be uptight... to brush the paper without fear. i tried circles and then striking lines. i saw sharp shoulders and improved pelvic markers. but, it was still an outline.

three sketches later, my hands were loose. the crayon was brushing and swishing and striking with strokes that seemed to have no reason. i watched the model's back hunch and his ankles emerge from swift marks. no outline this. there were shadows and there was weight on the inside.

just before the buzzer... "yes! that's better! good!" chirped bob. i caught my breath... by gosh, it was much better.

as i packed up my charcoal, my mates stopped to compliment and i crossed yet another bridge. i finally felt like i belonged among them; not a poser or an interloper, but a real student.

i have a long way to go, but at least i have finally found the road.

Avon calling...

ladies and gentleman... the quote of the day...

"I'd buy Avon from her, but I am not going to vote for her."

oh... i live for moments like that... thank you caller on Talk of the Nation.

bride to nowhere...

Marlene Davis, from the Lexington Herald Leader, wrote a column about referring to Bristol's boyfriend, Levi, as her fiance'. (click the title of this blog for the article.)

we can certainly speculate on what the real feelings are between bristol and levi and the couple and sarah palin, but it is only speculation. we may not have an answer until palin is out of the national light, whether that is two months, four years, or eight--if we ever learn at all.

i will say that i agree with davis about not labeling them engaged. all i have is my perspective and personal history; anyone who knows me would agree that i could never be called a commitment phobe having been engaged four times. i found myself nodding in agreement with many of her points.

in all honesty, i admit that i have great sympathy for bristol palin. i have never been pregnant, but i have been in places that scared the hell out of me, and i have followed through on commitments that i should have broken.

my only concern is that she may feel alone. i hope that she truly does have the support she needs, and not just support, but understanding.

my lipstick rant...

and we're off...

palin introduced the lipstick and now i'm hearing rumblings about people using it as a poking stick. of course they are.

i heard russ carnahan take a shot yesterday, “there’s no way you can dress up that record, even with a lot of lipstick.”

and obama got in his two cents, "you can put lipstick on a pig," he said, "it's still a pig."

there is debate... are they talking about palin? mccain? government on the whole?

and now there's a republican cry for an apology to palin?

oh, for the love of pete.

palin's surely wearing her flats and ready to rumble. personally, i think she's an inept, pompous little twit, but i'm certain she can handle the lipstick slam dance.

regardless, we may want to pay more attention to what this little girl from alaska may have up her sleeve. she's leading the farthest right into the light and the boys are taking pot shots covered in fire engine red loreal?

stay sharp, people. this glacier bay water shrew ain't no lady.

careful what you ask for... you could end up doing the dog paddle

I made a list. I thought about it for a very long time and I decided that this list was indeed just what I wanted.

After mastering painful relationships, failing to meet goals and being gracious beyond my means, I turned on my heels and went the other direction. I could be specific, but that would be rude to a lot of people. However, my list, in most cases, is the antithesis of what I’ve known all my life and instead demands what I’ve dreamed about.

After a ceremonial scripting in blood followed by dedicated celibacy for focus, the universe is answering some of these wishes and I’m finding that none of my previously honed skills work here.

Holy shit. I’m doing the dog paddle in the Baltic Sea.

I’m spending a lot of time debating myself at three in the morning. Suddenly, I’m split into two different people. There is sixteen year-old me ready to cut bait and get back to the safety of land rather than feel more disappointment. And then, there is grown up me who spends a lot of time reassuring and scolding.

HELLO! Paddling here!

In an odd way, I’m more me than ever. These two nuts that inhabit my mind are learning to work together and sharing insights. I’ve reawakened the passions—the floodgates have opened and emotions are back. But, I have experience now, and I know the value of staying the course… And, I know that no matter what happens, I’m okay.

Still paddling!

Yeah, I know. We’re still in unfamiliar territory. But, this is what I want and I wouldn’t change a thing on that list for the safety it might give. I’ll just keep paddling till I see land. Hell, along the way, I may just become the Michael Phelps of the dog paddle… who knows!

gifts we give ourselves...

Not so long ago I was thinking that it was a shame I no longer looked forward. That I didn’t experience that feeling I used to get before Christmas. I didn’t even really know what I missed, but instead had some vague recollection of a feeling. The fire of anticipation was missing.

What happened to desire? Longing? As I grew up, everything was within reach and anticipation was no longer an obstacle. When did anticipation become an obstacle? When did goals become mere trinkets?

Recently that feeling returned. It snuck in ever so quietly and without announcing itself. But, just now, it wrapped itself around me, brushed away the cobwebs and made itself at home.

I’d forgotten what it feels like to want something so badly it physically hurts. To want it, but to respect it—a respect so deep I am willing to test myself, restrain myself, cultivate a patience and trust that were oddly familiar as a child, but foreign as an adult.

And I will do this because I know without the slightest doubt that I am facing something that I will never have words to describe. I trust it because it is instinct and pure instinct supersedes the logic that has bogged me down.

I trust it because I know that this… this is the gift in the beautiful box under the tree that I will lose myself to—the one thing I have never named.

did i already take this?

I accidentally took a double dose of cold medicine this morning. Then I failed to eat breakfast and had eight cups of coffee before 10 am.

It’s now five in the afternoon. I’ve had a few pretzels, a lot water and I’m considering a mountain dew. I’m leaving shortly for my figure drawing class and worried i'll crash mid class.

I’ve been ridiculously productive all day and managed to run around the building eight times. I haven’t felt like this since high school when we used to take stupid quantities of vivarin—when I worked four part-time jobs and still made the honor roll.

Apparently, another side effect is that I can listen to Three Days Grace’s One-X for seven hours straight at ridiculous decibels.

BUT... I haven't had a sniffle or an ache or a headache or any such thing resembling a cold symptom all day.

When I finally go down tonight, it’s going to be the thud heard around the world.

i don't want to do this, but...

ms. palin, i'm not your biggest fan.

i like that you're a woman and that you're in the potential vp seat. you had a great fluidity to your speech, and i even laughed. but, girl, you grate on my last nerve and your voice is like nails on a chalkboard.

great performance, but i knew in the end that i wouldn't vote for you if you held a gun to my head.