I get it, neurosurgeons. You're angry that I managed to somehow blame you for the scar on my leg.
I do this thing on trips, particularly when I'm flying, and particularly when I'm flying alone. I listen to one artist the entire duration, over and over again. Amazingly, I don't get sick of the music. Instead, it becomes the soundtrack to that trip and its memories.
As a lover (hoarder) of magazines, it's no surprise that I'm falling hard for online magazines. This week I've been spoiled: last night I discovered the gorgeous The Violet and today Matchbook's June issue went live.
I've always been a sucker for surveys. I recall sitting at my parents' computer, age 13, trying to figure out how to answer each item in a chain survey in such a way that would win my crush's affection - in my case the answer was probably don't fill out chain surveys. Each month, Matchbook has someone interesting fill out their fun questionnaire, so in honor of today's release I'm going to take my turn at the questions. Because sometimes I like to think I'm interesting, too. (And because I'm already married so I don't have to worry about winning the affection of any boys.)
Today I accidentally locked Y outside in the rain for 20 minutes, only to get stuck in the rain myself and end up like a drowned rat on my doorstep, ruined suede shoes in hand. Karma, right? This awkward, wet day brought out the worst in both of us: my utter pathetic-ness... and Y's, um, awesome spelling.
My tale of awkwardness revolves around this guy:
You see, today was one of those days where I left my windowless closet of an office maybe once and spoke to a total of ONE person the entire day. So when I got home and Y asked me how my day was, I had nothing to talk about... except my new twitter friend.
I literally must have told 5 different stories about the stupid snake's tweets. I had to tell Y about how it went on a Sex and the City tour and declared itself a "SSSSSSamantha". And how it went to the Seinfeld restaurant. After going on about the snake for a few minutes, I stopped, thought about the conversation, and realized how incredibly alone in the world I am.
Y's tale of awkwardness occurred while writing the first draft of his personal statement, which is necessary for applying to residency programs. It really needs no explanation:
A few of my favorite songs are from Better Than Ezra. If you read my post yesterday about my "inspirational word art", there is one quote that is not inspirational in the least, but I love it so much I couldn't resist creating some word art and featuring it on my "wall of quotes". It's from a fairly recent Better Than Ezra song, and the chorus lyrics are:
So if you are a proud Southerner who may or may not have a rocking chair on your porch and a soft spot in your heart for the Mississippi River, leave me a comment or e-mail me at email@example.com and I'll send you the file.
''I actually feel kind of attacked by the sun. I feel like it's piercing into me, and I start to feel more and more desperate to escape it. I have a hard time organizing and managing daily life. By August, I'm barely able to function and don't really recover until autumn. October is reliably a good month. I feel like I'm being released from my summer, what I would call, jail cell.''
I used to think I hated summer because I was always The Pale Girl in a sea of tans or because my frizzy hair just did not cooperate. Now that
pale is in and I have my hands on some frizz products that actually work I'm not in high school and don't care as much about fitting in, I'm positive it has something to do with the heat.
This picture just looks cold and it makes me happy.
Wearing a scarf in September in Louisiana is almost unheard of
Red velvet pancakes from The Bongo Room and spending quality time with friends who don't mind laying on the ground for a photo op didn't hurt either. And the trip ended the way any good trip (or any day, really) should, with some very successful internet And I'm happy to say I wore the skirt that was subject to a drive by fashion critique with no negative comments. Success! But a girl can only be away from home and live on donuts and pancakes for so long -- it was good to get home to these guys, just in time for blissful October.
stalking detective work.
Red velvet pancakes from The Bongo Room and spending quality time with friends who don't mind laying on the ground for a photo op didn't hurt either. And the trip ended the way any good trip (or any day, really) should, with some very successful internet
And I'm happy to say I wore the skirt that was subject to a drive by fashion critique with no negative comments. Success!
But a girl can only be away from home and live on donuts and pancakes for so long -- it was good to get home to these guys, just in time for blissful October.
There are lots of fun things about being Jewish, like being lifted up in a chair, Jewish summer camp, and being able to relate to more someecards than the average person:
But the best part about being Jewish is obviously having two new years, which means more new year's resolutions and more excuses to do some of my favorite things ever, make lists and goals (and, probably just like you, subsequently forget about them). It's not really customary to set goals at the Jewish new year, but I love lists and fresh starts so much I like to pretend it is.
I also signed up for this:which is
"a creative photography school where we offer daily assignments for a set period of time. The school is not a photography 101 class ... At SFS we intend to get you shooting... Our ultimate goal for our students is that you begin seeing the extraordinary in the ordinary. "
Basically, I love to take pictures but rarely do it, and having an "assignment" makes me more likely touse my camera. My photography history is not so great; I've always enjoyed it but have never been good at it. My high school photography class was an excuse for my best friend and me to hang out in the darkroom (that sounds scandalous, but what we really did was develop snapshots and make up dances to N Sync songs), and I had to withdraw from the college photography course I took because my professor hated my pictures and I was in danger of failing.
If you love lists and goals as much as I do, there are so many "projects" going around the internet:The 365 Project, 101 in 1001, 43 things, Wanderlists, Nano, LuluLemon's BHAGs (big hairy audacious goals -- they even have an online goal setter) and so many more I'm sure I'm forgetting. It's overwhelming and ridiculous, but sort of inspiring at the same time.
And who am I kidding... the most fun part of making goals is writing them down on cute stationery.
And lists that are free!
Anyone who knows me can vouch for my tendency to get bossy when it comes to grammar. It's a random habit -- I'm not really a perfectionist in any other aspects, but stick an apostrophe where it doesn't belong or misuse a homophone and you will most definitely hear about it from me.
That sounded menacing, right? Right? Well... it's not exactly true. Unless I'm close to you, I won't point out your mistake. I'll probably just post about it on my blog. To be honest, there isn't enough time in the day to rectify all of the spelling and grammar errors on signs and buildings around here. While in DC, staying on Georgetown's campus, I climbed onto a campus bus and saw a sign that said something like this:
My heart almost stopped -- not only was the sign written in a complete sentence, the ensure/insure homophone had been used correctly! A sign at home (on our not-quite-as-prestigious-as-Georgetown campus) trying to convey the same message might have looked like this:
Don't even get me started on the random quotation marks. Y snapped this picture the other day, just because he knew it would make me mad. So romantic:
The reason I bring this up: I just found an article about a guy who traveled around the United States correcting errors on signs, (apparently, he didn't find an excess of mistakes in any one part of the country, which I find hard to believe) and wrote a book about his adventure. I have three thoughts on this:
A) That is awesome.
B) Why didn't I think of that?
C) They'll give anyone a book deal these days, won't they?
You know how people say dogs start to look like their owners?
Well, I think my blog is starting to act like me. It can't decide what genre of blog it wants to belong to: Healthy eating, where the food I consume daily gets listed in hopes of inspiring others to eat like me? Sounds kind of boring, but you should see the free samples Carrots n Cake gets ;) Fashion, where I take pictures of my outfits and list what stores they came from? It may seem shallow, but some of my favorite blogs like Kendi Everyday and The Chloe Conspiracy get it right. Cooking? Where I document the recipes I make so you can, too? Sure, except a) I'm a terrible cook, and b) When I do cook or bake, I get most of my recipes from Annie's Eats or Homemade by Holman, so you might as well just read their blogs.
Okay, so maybe my dog resembling owner analogy wasn't the best. My blog is obviously ADD because it's my puppet, and I'M blog ADD.
Keeping up with the number of blogs I subscribe to is like a second job; I read blogs that review books, in anticipation that someday I'll read The Diary of Anne Frank and can not feel guilty about reading for pleasure. I read the aforementioned (and then some) cooking and fashion blogs. I even read blogs on organizing in the hopes they will make me organized. I read articles that are linked to from the handful of public health blogs I read. And I read Perez Hilton because, well, I'm addicted. My name is Daci, and I'm a blogaholic.
I guess I feel like I my little blog has to keep up with the ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY THREE blogs (on 10 different topics) that I subscribe to. A random sampling from my iPhoto "possible pictures for blog" folder can attest to that.
Pictures taken in case my blog decides to be a cooking blog:
Or a fashion blog:
But when it comes down to it, I think my favorite blogs are the ones where totally normal people manage to keep me entertained by sharing their completely normal lives. And since I don't really excel at anything (except maybe owning a cute dog), well, that's really my only option.
All this to say that I hope my little blog audience won't judge the randomness and ADD, because it's not going away. Have I mentioned I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up? More on that later.
*I'm aware that blah, blah, blahg is the name of a blog. I read that one too.