This is really what my life is like during the work day. And this is really how Roommate and I speak to each other.
Me: (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻
This is really what my life is like during the work day. And this is really how Roommate and I speak to each other.
Me: (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻
And why I am constantly “accidentally capslocking” at other people.
Him: SO I WAS AT UNIQLO
AND IT WAS CROWDED SO
I WAS LIKE YOU KNOW, TAKE THE ELEVATOR, EASIER THAN TRYING TO GO THROUGH THE CROWD
AND I’M LOOKING AT THE TROUSERS, YOU KNOW, AND JUST NOTHING IN 30X32
AND I GUESS I COULD GET THEM HEMMED FOR FREE
BUT I WAS LIKE
YOU KNOW, I DON’T WANT TO COME BACK TOMORROW AND HAVE TO PICK THEM UP
SINCE TOMORROW, YOU KNOW
MAYA’S HAVING HER THING
AND I WAS THINKING OF GOING TO THE GYM BUT I DUNNO IF I’LL HAVE TIME
FOR THAT AND A NAP
AND I LIKE TO TAKE A NAP ON FRIDAYS BEFORE I DO ANYTHING
I’M LOOKING THROUGH THE SHIRTS
AND EVERYTHING’S THESE MADRAS PATTERNS
AND IT’S JUST WEIRD COLOR CHOICES, YOU KNOW
SO I’M THINKING
MAYBE INSTEAD I SHOULD GO WITH THE SOLID COLOR LINEN SHIRTS
BUT NOT LONG SLEEVED
BECAUSE IT’S SUMMER AND ALL
I ship. There, I said it. I ship. If there is a YA novel, television show, movie, or comic book and there is romance involved, I will find a couple to love and follow with all my heart. For example: Sasuke and Sakura kind of need to be together forever. For. Ever. I love fandom. I’m pretty sure it began with my fierce belief in Dawson and Joey’s Everlasting Love.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with the term ‘ship’ – Urban Dictionary defines it as “endors[ing] a romantic relationship.” I’ll just go ahead and add in the phrase “that is unrelated to you” at the end of that definition.
I have noticed, however, that YA novels of late have been taking advantage of this shipping trait by creating discord among the fans. The readers have to choose who they think makes the better match! The most visible, of course, is Twilight. Are you Team Jacob? Or Team Edward? (… or Team Edward&Jacob because Bella’s a blank slate of a character who doesn’t really represent anything but women-belong-in-the-kitchen-making-babies ideology?) There’s also the epically fantastic Hunger Games series which pits Peeta against Gale (Gale! Gale!… though I almost changed my mind when Mockingjay came out. The shippers, they are fickle on occasion).
That being said, I’m finding this to be a more troublesome trend in the YA market now. Triangles for the sake of bloody triangles. Dear everyone-writing-a-young-adult-novel, you do not need to have two love interests for your heroine. You don’t need kids to be pitted against kids in an epic battle of this-guy’s-better-for-her-than-your-guy just to get your book to sell. If it happens as a result of just having awesome characters, fine – but don’t deliberately create a situation in which you’re selling your own characters out. I’ve put down several YA novels in recent times because I can see that it’s empty-faced girl and two gorgeous guys, and o, Gods, how will she choose?! You know who didn’t do that? JK Rowling, bitches.
So, writers, balance the possible relationships. Balance. Make me love all the characters so much that I could never choose, but will still spend time talking about the character’s ultimate choice on the internet (… Vampire Diaries, I’m looking at you).
Related anecdote: A few nights ago, a friend and I were watching Disney videos on Youtube (because we’re awesome), when I noticed an associated video, “Draco / Hermione Can You Feel the Love Tonight” – we both thought, what? Clicked.
THIS IS ACTUALLY HAPPENING, FRIENDS.
Turns out, anything can be shipped. I mean seriously. Anything.
I’ve been terrible about Hurling Words, writing too much for corporate America to concentrate on my own thoughts. Damn if I am falling into a rat race trap here. (I should mention that my language may reflect the amount of Westerns I’ve been watching lately).
That being said, I had a Missed Connections experience recently, and I thought it would be an excellent way to return to your good graces if I shared it with all you kind people out there.
Let’s begin the story – Once upon a time…
It was a Saturday night in Williamsburg. It was a night of New York coincidence, warm bars, and loud music, but that’s not really what our tale’s about. This one starts at the end. Because, you see, I was on-my-way-home. Which meant walking arm in arm with just the loveliest ladyfriend a girl could have and being assaulted by foul subway graffiti.
The platform was full of leather and plaid and over-sized glasses for heroin-chic faces. And luck was on our side, we had no more than four minutes to wait for the train. Funny how a little liquid courage can make time just fly on by, like it’s late for a party. Headlights rounded the corner and the L train charged forward, the last car coming to a standstill in front of us.
Our poor spot of choice ended damn smack in the middle of two sets of doors. Commuters will recognize our subsequent position in front of the doors as the “Oh, sorry, let me – are you getting off? I’ll move – oh goodness, the door is – let me just -” and awkwardness aside, it is prime for accidental elbow jutting and toe treading.
We jawed and guffawed through a few stops, letting the train clear around us, eyeballing the other occupants, maybe eavesdropping on a topic or two – then clear across the other side of the car, who should I spot?
“Hey, turn around slowly, Willem Dafoe is on our train.” She craned in response,
“He looks just like him.” A little taller maybe, younger certainly, with a red bandana that spoke of Platoon. But that hair, those cheek bones.
“That could be his son!” My eyes continued to flick to him for the rest of the ride. The doors chimed open to our area of East-east-east-eastest-east-Williamsburg. I side eyed Willem to see his plan.
He stepped off the train and turned left.
We went right.
“He got off at our stop. HE-GOT-OFF-AT-OUR-STOP.”
I stumbled home and exchanged my layers for the comfort of pajamas. As I am a 21st century girl, I lay back on my pillows, laptop in hand and it came to me.
I dragged the cursor to that anonymous hot spot of internet hot spots.
Willem Dafoe on the L Train – w4m 26
I think I saw you on the L train tonight, Willem Dafoe.
You might’ve just been a kid in a red bandanna.
But I’m pretty sure it was you, Willem Dafoe. Then you got off at my stop. Damn, Willem Dafoe, whatchu doin’ in Bushwick?!
Laptop safely tucked away, I fell into the heavy sleep of a Saturday night well spent.
As this was my first Missed Connection posting, I naively assumed that that was that.
The responses began to trickle in a day or two later. April wanted me to clarify if I truly was a woman seeking a man (she couldn’t know that it was so much more than that, could she?), and Dante needed to know the exact location of this supposed Willem Dafoe doppelganger – or maybe just where I lived. His message was brief, and so his motives suspect.
Then there was Kings, who just wanted my body to sing for him. Because, you see, he wanted to play me like an instrument. But I was not to be played.
Lastly, the elusive Patrick, who only emailed me to say: “I know who you are looking for.” But if he did know, he wasn’t talking.
Then, nothing. I joked about the experience at after work happy hours and cafeteria lunches, but as with most memories in the making, the immediacy of it all fell away. I forgot to even think of it.
Fast forward a year in the wild wild west of the internet. Or, in the real world, ten days later.
Sitting at a friend’s, waiting to start my french toast project, I idly hit the mail button on my phone as I am wont to do.
Downloading 1 of 2…
Downloading 2 of 2…
At the top:
oedwotd subject “muggy, adj./2” – Word of the Day from the OED
But below that! Fate had intervened!
Jesse **** subject hey it’s willem dafoe jr.
my friend in chicago came across your craigslist post — ha i get that all the time. that’s so funny. only time i’ve ever worn a red bandanna. wasn’t i awesome in Platoon?
Could it really be him? I was raised during the height of web-paranoia. I knew better than to trust a stranger ON THE INTERNET.
So, I found him on Facebook.
Friends, readers, it was him. It was my L-Train Willem Dafoe. How did he find me? Why was his friend in Chicago searching through Brooklyn Missed Connections? Was Peter his friend?
I’ll never know the answers to these questions. I replied, exclamation points abound,
“Willem Dafoe, you just made my day!”
And that’s where I’ll leave it.
I’ve regressed to listening to awesome old Taking Back Sunday demos. Shut up, it’s awesome. Although, I don’t really have anything to say about beautiful girls. Except, you know.
Obviously, you understand that I’ve been on vacation in the French Alps with Louis Garrell for the last three months – by which I mean we started our blog at work and now I don’t have time to write for my own. Which may be is a good thing, yeah?
Working on the WORK BLOG has pulled me back into a sort of nostalgia for all the great, weird chapter books I loved when I was a kid – so I thought in my return to El Blogacabre, I was going to list out some of my favorites… but then I just ended up reading about them on Wikipedia and falling into a spiral of meeeeeeeemories.
Although, I think everyone could do with a reread of Sideways Stories from Wayside School by Louis Sachar.
I’ve spent a lot of this post talking about things I can’t or won’t say. Talk about postmodern blogging.
… God, I’m an asshole.
But it’s strange, it’s not like I’ve run out of things to rant about – good ole’ T-bone and I just had a great debate (read as: ridiculous argument) over whether or not a book’s classification as Literary Fiction hinders its potential sales. Or its sales potential. Whatever.
We’re real smart over hurr.
Any way, maybe it’s because there really is only so much you can say on the internet? Or maybe I’ve just run out of steam – it was a very hectic summer. (I’m saying this both mysteriously and elusively.)
… This is mostly untrue, I blogged this summer, I just did it on my side-project. I’m like Tom Delong and whatever the name of his crappy side project is.
The side project failed kind of, because I didn’t follow through. As usual.
THIS BLOG POST IS SO DEPRESSING. REMEMBER WHEN IT STARTED AND I WAS HOPEFUL?
Boy, oh boy, … and now I’m thinking about Joe Pesci in With Honors and now I’m even sadder. Good Lord, media culture- what hath you wrought?
O, readers, all three of you, aren’t you glad for my return?
Alright, I’m going offline.
Remember those days when we could spend forever on the internet perusing tripod and geocities webpages of our favorite actors and boy bands? (ahem).
… Maybe it’s just me.
Above is an angelfire site designed by my cousin pre social networking days… and it’s so perfectly indicative of what “cool websites” used to look like, I couldn’t help myself. (please disregard my excessive use of tabs. I have a problem.)
Anyhow, so Internet and I have known each other a long time, more than ten years now I guess. Got my first screenname (via AOL of course… oh shoot, they’re Aol now aren’t they?) at the tender age of 13 – Pretti, for those of you who care. I’m still convinced my brother couldn’t spell my name right, but that’s neither here nor there.
Sidenote: Did you know kids born in 2000 have no idea what the dial up sound means? You all just heard it in your head, didn’t you?
At first, holy crap there was so much to do! So many chatrooms, so many creepy people to talk to!
And the websites, oh man – ohai backstreet.net
It occurs to me that I’m probably revealing more about myself than I should be – but such is our life on the internet now. Look at my life, read about it, and then comment and tell me what you think about me, please.
So, ten plus years with the internet, I find myself missing that spark, that connectivity we used to share. Those days of yore –
Stumbleupon could have brought that back, but it’s been repeating itself lately and that depressed me far more than it should have.
Is it me? I mean, did I do something to offend you o, Internet Gods?
I kid, I kid. Sort of.
Don’t get me wrong – I would probably die without those series of tubes connecting us all together. I mean, what do you do without the internet? I was out of the country for about a month recently, and every time I got to check my email or update facebook, it was like a fix that I needed.
I’m trying to pinpoint exactly when my trouble started – maybe it’s the explosion of the term Social Media. I’ve bitched about it before here, mostly with regards to my industry of choice.
Wikipedia’s got an interesting definition of the term:
“Social media is media designed to be disseminated through social interaction, created using highly accessible and scalable publishing techniques. Social media uses Internet and web-based technologies to transform broadcast media monologues (one to many) into social media dialogues (many to many). It supports the democratization of knowledge and information, transforming people from content consumers into content producers.”
“Democratization of knowledge” and “content producers” just sounds so great, doesn’t it? Of course, then we have to ask, who do we trust as experts, and how do we find these experts in the new world?
I’ve strayed from my point… or maybe created it. Who knows? (OnoesNoseKnows)
How do we find quality? Sometimes, I find myself just cycling through the same sites over and over again, (most of which may or may not be gossip/news blogs because I am a very nosy person). But really, recently I’ve been finding myself just staring at my laptop in consternation, “… What am I supposed to do with you today? I’m not sure I really need anything from you.” Then the apple on the back anthropomorphizes and starts crying. It’s all fairly embarrassing for everyone involved.
But then, even though I don’t necessarily have that same NEED TO BE ONLINE ALL THE TIME OMG, and I know I use our world wide wafting web for different things than I used to – I’ll never really be over the internet. I just love it so hard.
If it weren’t for Twitter, I wouldn’t be half as informed as I was about publishing or ebooks as I am. If it wasn’t for Facebook, I wouldn’t have, you know, 20 friends + 450 that I kind of remember from college and high school. If it wasn’t for LiveJournal, I wouldn’t be able to remember the nerdbomber that I used to be am. (Also, I’d never have met my movie soulmate). I mean thanks to the internet, my cousin can instantaneously gchat me a youtube video, and then say, “This isn’t anything you’re going to be interested in,” and I’m going to click play any way because it opened up right above his head and what the hell, why not? (I was not interested, but I was okay with it).
I love you. I love you more than Lady Gaga hates pants. I love you more than Jeff Bezos loves control. I love you so much I don’t think I’ll ever find a boyfriend.
Sometimes, I take advantage of you I know that, and I’m sorry. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. And it doesn’t mean I want you to be regulated or anything. I love you just the way you are. Huge and awkward and free, sometimes lewd and uncomfortable for everyone else in the room. You’re, yeah, wow, lovely.
Thank you for being you, Internet. I’ll never let you go. They’ll have to pry you out of my cold, dead fingers. For sure.
That being said, here’s fun stuff I found on the internet recently.
(This post devolved real quick like, didn’t it?)
Here’s Jake Gyllenhol photobombing the shit out of Ang Lee. Makes me lol irl, srsly.
This is a Crabbit. And it’s what I found when I googled the phrase: “Cat what”
And this is a song from an awesome Indian movie I saw in the theater last Thursday. Then I got home and got to watch it on youtube. (Where I bemoaned Kareena Kapoor’s dancing and ugly, ugly horse face.) (… Please don’t sue me.)
BAI. (happy emoticon.)
from blogging. But not from real life.
In which I discuss things that come into my head.
So, I’m not going to make this a publishing centered blog – for serious, because I know a lot of people just. don’t. care. (which I could go on to say “is the problem.” but I won’t.) However, as now is a tremulous time in the industry, and I hold a lot of anger in my heart, there may be rash posts with lots of words about how everyone is fucking everything up. That being said, this is not one of those posts. (mostly).
This post will begin with me talking about other people’s babies. I saw the cutest baby ever on the train the other day. I know I say that often, but this time, boy do I mean it.
Cutest. Baby. Ever.
Like, if there was a rictor scale for cute, this baby wouldn’t even register she was so darn cute eating her pink cookie.
So, in searching for a baby picture to use – found out: not all babies are cute. Wow. people have a lot of ugly babies. And shoot, I don’t feel bad for saying that. Apparently, there are also alot of “Michelin man babies” – which I will not put up here because it kind of skeeves me out. Seriously. Oh, poor, poor chubby, segmented babies. (I almost googled “segmented babies” just to see, and then realized what it could show me and decided against it.)
I’m glad I’m going to know so much about things I am not interested in.
I’d like to take the time now to reflect on some of the previous posts excitement. So, I’ve had time to calm down since the big announcement. Turns out it’s not nearly as awesome as we’d all hoped. (insert sad george michael gif here). Sure I can lend you one of my books, but only once. And, word on the street is, most publishers don’t want anything to do with it any way because (gasp) they’re afraid of the repercussions. Because oh, god – what will happen if people start lending books?!
The best part of this post is that I found a super fun blog while I was searching for macros. Freakin sweet google karma! Anyhow, so yes – the Nook is still exciting because I do think it’s targeting us reading-oriented-folks, but it won’t be nearly as groundbreaking as it needs to be. Sigh.
I realize this isn’t the most coherent blog entry, but I think there might have been some sort of logical train of thought maybe. Who knows? My fingers generally get on the keys and think for me. Articles tell me that you shouldn’t blog without a message. I think this may have been my way of rebelling.
TAKE THAT SOCIAL MEDIA
Um, I mean. Jay-kay. Sigh. (coy)
Maybe it’s a good thing that I have to go to a social media meeting at 9 am tomorrow morning. Sigh. Obviously, I do not know what I am doing. Damn, son. Get off my back. It’s interesting to me how inevitably, you see generational gaps when learning about media that nobody really totally gets yet. You can have three teachers teaching the same subject with wildly different information. So much of it is trial and error any way. Make your own way, holmez.
How many of these words do you think are going to disappear in five years: widgets, tweeting, apps? Maybe not disappear, but certainly shift and evolve into something else. Maybe combine, Twidgets! (… I kind of love that, not gonna lie.) Any way –
… Let’s do something fun!
I used to know this by heart. A long time ago.
And I’ll leave you with the creepiest video ever:
Maybe I should just start doing a lot of lists. What do you (THE READERS) think? (I almost bolded that ‘t’, that would have been embarrassing).
Funnel is a funny word.