I played with the settings again today and so far I like it. Turns out, though, that I had commenting disabled unless people were members which is not what I wanted- I'm all for anonymous comments, especially considering the subject matter I veer into. I apologize to anybody who wanted to comment but couldn't because they weren't a member. My bad.
So that's fixed.
I've been taking a break from creating lately- besides this blog, I mean. I haven't been working on my novels, which you think I would considering I'm looking for agents (no new responses...) and I haven't been knitting, which you think I would considering I owe my brother a scarf for last Christmas and I have the materials to make 2 scarves for me- one to match my fingerless gloves and one to match my red coat. I haven't been tatting, either, and I owe my mother a pretty large doily from last Christmas.
And my dad's birthday is coming up. Shit.
I've also felt like drawing lately, which is unusual for me because I'm really bad at it. I had to take a drawing class for my degree so I've vastly improved but I still suck. I've been thinking about my style, which is basically teeny-tiny and very detailed, so I'm considering doing some teeny tiny little scenes about the size of stamps. I'm not one of those people that can write on rice, but what with sewing and embroidery I'm very comfortable working in a minuscule scale. For a while I was thinking about tatting tiny pieces for dollhouses...I still might one day.
It is SO HOT here. According to the weather channel it's 95 degrees but feels like 107. I'm supposed to hang out with my buddy Four tomorrow, but goddamn it's supposed to be 101 degrees. Ick. I hate heat...so much so, in fact, I leave my windows open all winter.
I'm friends with such amazing people I wonder why they bother with me. Four is a voice-over artist and comedian and a brilliant writer. One day I'm going to get to say I knew him when... He's pretty much the best friend I've ever had and I love him to bits.
My parents, unfortunately, don't feel the same way. In fact, Four and I wanted to date for a while but my parents' reactions were awful and it was one of the worst times of my life as far as my relationship with them goes. My father, especially, is incredibly racist and proud of it and it breaks my heart. One of my parents' rationalizations for hating my relationship with Four and giving me such a hard time about it is that they're trying to protect me from "other people's reactions."
I'm just going to say that after 10 years of hanging out with Four and being besties with him the only people who have EVER even given me a dirty look about it are my parents, so work out that logic.
There was one time in my life where out in public, among strangers, I was given dirty looks and glares and stares was a few days after I came back from London a month before my 19th birthday. My nephew Manny (my brother Mick's son) was 3 months old at the time and my sister-in-law, Manny's mother Debra, and I went to the mall to finish up Christmas shopping. I was pushing Manny in a stroller, and Deb was walking beside me and you should have seen the looks.
Stares. Anger. Fury. Disgust. People were looking at me like they wanted to run over and take Manny away from me. It was amazing. Debra and I were shocked.
So I decided to play into it. At one point Deb was waiting in line to pay for something and I was standing with Manny a little bit away saying, "Manny, tell Aunt Debbie to hurry up, Mommy has to get home to do her algebra homework. Mommy doesn't want to work at McDonald's anymore. Tell her. Say 'Mommy needs to graduate so she can find a new job and meet a nice man to be my daddy. I wish I had a daddy.'"
It was awesome.
And can I just add, by the way, that if you see a little baby in the mall and it's not related to you, DON'T TOUCH IT? That was unbelievable. At one point I had to smack this guy's hand away. He talks to me for a second, "Oh, how old is he blah blah blah" and then he reaches into the stroller. So I say, "Please don't touch the baby."
Then he reached in again! So I smacked his hand. "Do not touch the baby!"
AUGH. It's not your baby, people! Especially if you're out in public, who knows where your hands have been?! You could have herpes for all I know. Don't touch the baby.
Like you always ask a dog's owner if you can pet the dog when you first meet them, to make sure the dog doesn't bite or have some kind of disease or is a seeing eye dog that shouldn't be bothered or what-have-you. Don't touch people's dogs, and don't touch the babies.
You don't know what 5'2", 19-year-old, 130 lb. white girl is going to smack you for it.
And if she does, you totally deserve it.