Censorship or Just Plain Politeness?

I don't know why my blog, here, stopped feeding to my Facebook page. I'm not going to try to figure it out, though. I'm a little bit relieved, honestly. Back when I was sure that only one or two people looked at this page, I felt a little bit more free to say whatever I wanted to. And then I set it up so that it would link directly to my Facebook and for a while that was really exciting because I could say some stuff and then people would comment and then we could get a real discussion going. And that was fun.

But what about how, for the past month, all I can think to talk about are things that I really don't feel like getting into in such a public place. You see this? This is, to me, about the social equivalent of having a conversation with two friends in a coffee shop. There are opportunities for other people to listen in. They can if they want--but we all know they won't. I am 93% certain that there aren't any secret readers of this blog. (If I'm wrong, feel free to blow my mind and identify yourself.) I feel like writing a note on Facebook is, maybe, like taking an open-mic night. You can stand up there and say whatever you want to a whole lot of people and they can pay attention or they can keep making out with their girlfriends in the back of the room and at the end, someone will probably have thoughts about what you just said and, depending on the topic, it could get hairy. Or not. Who knows.

Anyway, I don't mind having a conversation about things that I care about deeply. I don't have a problem defending myself and I don't have a problem throwing myself out there for public debate. The problem with saying what I'd really like to be saying--and then broadcasting it into a much more public (and still incredibly personal) venue is that the people on my friends list know me. Or rather, they have an idea about me already. They knew me when we were in the third grade together. Or they changed my diapers. Or they wandered into my life during the Fundie-Evangelical years and then we lost firm touch before I found my head. And all of these people have ideas about me from back in the day, and they can't help it. I do it, too. It just takes a lot of effort to introduce yourself over and over again. A lot of times it's just easier for me to stay quiet or avoidant. I know all that does is help to maintain, if not solidify, those preconceptions. It's not all their fault--they can't help it. I realize it's me, too.

Maybe I'll tackle those things soon. I'll talk about my thoughts on politics, religion, sex, personal identity, food and my ambiguous future. All of those things that I'm not really afraid of--but I am much more happy to leave alone.

Anyway. This will probably be the one post that does end up feeding into my Facebook page. Who's looking forward to that irony?

I'm going to write about books next.

I Plan to Look Like This All Day

I'll admit that I was wearing half-pajamas when I left the house today. And I am aware that half-pajamas, under all circumstances, equals Probably Shouldn't Be Seen In Public attire. But it was 8:30 and who could blame me for rolling out of bed and deciding to make use of my free-drink coupon at The Well? One large skinny vanilla latte coming right up. I made some effort. I washed my face, applied deodorant and even combed my hair before pulling it up into a ponytail. Easily Overlooked was the look I was going for and so I grabbed my purse, added a cinnamon roll to my order and commenced with the reading, listening and watching. I go to The Well way too often. Maybe four or five times a week. But here's the deal, a dollar and a dime will buy you unlimited coffee and it gets you out of the house for as long as you like. And not to mention, I like that guy that works behind the counter--he talks to me and it's coming to my attention that I'm not super awesome at maintaining my side of conversation all that often. Regardless, he's always friendly to me. He told me his name a few times, actually, but I never remember it and he never remembers mine so I say we're even and I like not knowing his name. So if you know it--don't tell me.

Really, the reason that I got out and about so early was because I was going to the Opera House thrift store. I'm hoping to spend about $8 on about 10 picture frames. I plan to spray paint all of them white and then hang them on a massive wall in my bedroom. My bedroom is depressing and I never keep it clean. I dress in there. I undress in there. I lay in bed until I have to pee and then I leave that room. I keep the doors shut and there's nothing I like about it--not like my living room. My living room has picture frames and jars of things and curtains and books and flowers and candles and other ultra femme things that I was at one point a little bit embarrassed about but now I'm unashamedly in love with.

You shouldn't hate your bedroom. You should love it. So that's why today I'm cleaning it big time. Shipping clothing items to the thrift stores and finally unpacking that suitcase that's been on the floor for coming on three weeks. I'll dust and open the windows and work on this art piece that I've been mulling over for quite some time. I have all of the stuff to do it except for one very important component--a canvas. And I prefer found materials anyway so "canvas" isn't at all the right word to use. Maybe it's dumpster diving time? I mean, what else do I have to do with my days except rifle through our garage and the neighbor's trash and wait for Lois to call me and tell me that I passed the drug screen and that I can start work tomorrow.

Hey, Remember 2005?

Back in the day we all blogged on Xanga. Remember that, ladies and gents? That was before I even knew what "blogging" was (I'm still not totally sure, I don't think). I don't know what I even called it, to be honest. Xanga was a fierce addiction to many in my group of friends in college. That was before Facebook. That was back when you had unlimited space to fill people in on your status. And boy did it cause some drama. I loved it. At the time. I haven't the patience for that, now. But then again I'm so much older and, obviously, so much wiser but still with the need to have an uninterrupted space that you will all pay attention to. God bless the ego boost.

On Xanga there were three different kinds of entries: The Recount, The Pensive, and The Jackpot.

The Recount
This sort of blog is really boring. I never read them. If I were to write a Recount blog right now it would read like this, "Got up at 6:30 because my cat was making noise. I watched Good Morning America and learned about the volcano in Iceland. I texted some of my friends even though it was not even 8:00 am. It is my sister's birthday."

The Pensive
Reads something similar to this (no proper grammar--it's about the art, folks), "dampness". The Pensive is irritating as hell and only meant to confuse your readers so deeply that they can only assume that you are some sort of philosophical genius. But, really, all that makes you smarter than everyone else is the fact that you have found a way to manipulate people into admiring you without actually doing anything admirable.

The Jackpot
Since Xanga was the pre-Facebook, this was how we got to know each other without actually having to meet. Jackpots were the best and very hard to come by. They include story telling with personal opinion and a certain level of instruction. They are for sure what I'm always striving for when I write anything. It's impossible to know, for sure, when you sit down to write whether or not it will be a Jackpot. And that's why you rarely get a blog post out of me.
The internet, these days, is often times unintentionally used as sort of a Home Shopping Network for friends and lovers. It was through the Jackpot Post that I decided the people with whom I wanted to be friends. For example, I read this huge post that was written by an acquaintance of mine (I'm saying, it could have easily been a solid three pages, single spaced, or so) about a car that he had in high school and it was right then when I said to myself, "I wanna be friends with this guy." And I made that happen. And we're still friends. And I am occasionally still impressed by his story telling. And that's why you keep the Jackpotters around.

My favorite thing about Xanga, though, was that at the beginning of your post you could tell the world what you were currently listening to or watching on TV or reading. I loved to use this space to tell everyone about the obscure music I listened to or to get people to think that I really was reading Kierkegaard in my down time between classes. Yeah, right. Like that was ever happening. But for the sake of nostalgia, let me tell you that I'm:

Currently Listening: Rosie Thomas, These Friends of Mine

Currently Reading: Anne Lamott, Imperfect Birds

Currently Watching: Rachel Ray

My Sweet, Glossy Weakness

I don't know if it's obvious to you or not but I have a sincere love and adoration for magazines. Oh my darkest days, a stack of magazines has a sort of healing notion. They're shiny, they're full of shoes that I'll never be able to afford, dresses that I'll never fit into and make up that I'd never wear anyway. But fantasy is fun. Who doesn't want to be Jennifer Aniston wearing underpants and a leather jacket--if only for a minute?

My favorite magazines, in order, of appreciation:

1. Dwell: Here's what Dwell does for me, it makes me feel a strange combination of hope and jealousy and future-nostalgia and planning all at once. I want to grow up and live in a cool house/ apartment. Also, I am kind of a geek for floor plans and European design. And in this magazine, almost all of the houses that they go to are inhabited by a man and a woman who have two different last names. So they're either partners and friends who never did marry or they did marry and she kept her last name. Either way, I love the idea.
2. Cosmo: Don't judge me. As a feminist, I really should not love Cosmo the way that I do since it's pretty much all about how to land a boyfriend and then how to keep him sexually satisfied until he either decides to marry you or break up with you. But it's not like you don't have those mindless indulgences that may or may not barely conflict with your personal convitions. This magazine smells delicious.
3. Interview Magazine: My first draw to Interview, honestly came from the format. It's big, bigger than your average magazine. It's, like, 11x13" or something. It's great. And it's not perfect bound, just folded and stapled and I just love it. Also, I don't know about you, but I love a good eavesdropping. Stop judging me, would you? I'm just trying to be honest with you here. How can our relationship blossom when you keep holding it against me every time I bring forth my reality? Okay, then. Anyway, my favorite articles come in a He Said, She Said sort of format so that I'm more or less just noseying into their conversations. All of the articles in Interview are really just conversations between two people. And not an unknown reporter and someone famous like usual. Like, the most recent issue is an article about Carey Mulligan by Susan Sarandon. That's cool stuff, man. My favorite article was about David Benioff by Jason Bateman. Also, the photography in this magazine is phenomenal.

That's all. What are your favorite magazines?

I freaking love magazines.

And I probably freaking love you.