So tonight while I was in the rehearsal space, I actually got my newest song, "Blazin' a Champagne Trail" all figured out. I knew I had to record it right that minute or it'd be lost, so I used the "voice notes" option on my phone and recorded the gist of it within the 60-second time alloted. Then I sent it to my email address from my phone. I got home and I just downloaded the WAV file and played it on my computer. Voila!
Too bad the EQ sucks with that medium, or I could actually play my songs, record them, send them, and later burn the files onto a CD without ever touching a cassette tape.
Maybe I'll play around with the EQ. I was fully amplified in the studio so maybe if I unplugged it would come across better.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Astounding
Inexplicably, the past few days my mood has been unalterably sunny (unlike the weather, o fickle fiend that weather be).
I'm getting enough sleep, laughing a lot, working hard, enjoying my work and my home time, and today I did three things that I am very proud of.
1) I hiked around Shoal Creek today. I haven't done that since 2001 when I worked at Medical Park Tower. Walking that trail on my lunch breaks took twenty pounds off me back then, and now I have been reunited with my old friend. Albeit, my old friend seems to have had some astonishingly bad plastic surgery in the six years since we were acquainted. Still, I look forward to running away, every day, now that the initial hurdle has been jumped.
2) I guided myself into a more appropriate career today at my job. Starting Friday, I'm going to start getting cross-trained into the Medical Writing field, with the intent to jump over there from what I'm doing now. While not the ultimate thing I would write about, it's still words and grammar and processes and typing and proofreading and creating and learning. And if while I am still at this company I get certified by the AMWA, I'll have no trouble getting a job again and I will eventually be able to work from home as a contractor, wherever I may end up.
3) I decided to stop letting my desire to create music get overshadowed by the many distractions that come with trying to do my music at home. You know, living with a roommate, having a computer or movies I want to see, or phone calls I want to take. So starting this evening, I have rented a little studio at Music Lab on Oltorf.
It's only $8.00/hour after 10pm, and that's usually when I get my creative spurts. Tonight I've got an hour so I'm taking all my accoutrements and I'm going to work on my new songs, honing them. Next week I've scheduled the rehearsal studio for two hours, so I'm going to try to get them all down on tape. It's time to start acting like a real musician, and although one or two hours a week sounds like a small amount, it's a huge step for me to commit to doing it, and I won't help but learn to use my studio time wisely. Maybe later on down the road I can get Tom or Steve or Brennen Leigh in there with me and we can work up some material.
I feel really wonderful right now. It's about time!
I'm getting enough sleep, laughing a lot, working hard, enjoying my work and my home time, and today I did three things that I am very proud of.
1) I hiked around Shoal Creek today. I haven't done that since 2001 when I worked at Medical Park Tower. Walking that trail on my lunch breaks took twenty pounds off me back then, and now I have been reunited with my old friend. Albeit, my old friend seems to have had some astonishingly bad plastic surgery in the six years since we were acquainted. Still, I look forward to running away, every day, now that the initial hurdle has been jumped.
2) I guided myself into a more appropriate career today at my job. Starting Friday, I'm going to start getting cross-trained into the Medical Writing field, with the intent to jump over there from what I'm doing now. While not the ultimate thing I would write about, it's still words and grammar and processes and typing and proofreading and creating and learning. And if while I am still at this company I get certified by the AMWA, I'll have no trouble getting a job again and I will eventually be able to work from home as a contractor, wherever I may end up.
3) I decided to stop letting my desire to create music get overshadowed by the many distractions that come with trying to do my music at home. You know, living with a roommate, having a computer or movies I want to see, or phone calls I want to take. So starting this evening, I have rented a little studio at Music Lab on Oltorf.
It's only $8.00/hour after 10pm, and that's usually when I get my creative spurts. Tonight I've got an hour so I'm taking all my accoutrements and I'm going to work on my new songs, honing them. Next week I've scheduled the rehearsal studio for two hours, so I'm going to try to get them all down on tape. It's time to start acting like a real musician, and although one or two hours a week sounds like a small amount, it's a huge step for me to commit to doing it, and I won't help but learn to use my studio time wisely. Maybe later on down the road I can get Tom or Steve or Brennen Leigh in there with me and we can work up some material.
I feel really wonderful right now. It's about time!
Sunday, January 21, 2007
It's all an optical illusion?
So, very mysteriously, all the "Jon Gnagy" merchandise has disappeared off of the Mind Site Works website.
I guess my brother wrote them a letter, too. Damn it--we should have waited until we got our wall clocks and steins.
These were their other designs.
I guess my brother wrote them a letter, too. Damn it--we should have waited until we got our wall clocks and steins.
These were their other designs.
Oh, how I loathe you...but I'll take three, please
Instead of going to Town Lake today, I've been drinking coffee and surfing the net. And when I procrastinate like this (see last post), I often come across things that will distract me for the remainder of the day, rendering obsolete any other plans that I may have had.
Sigh.
This morning, I found that I can buy messenger bags, thongs, infant sleepers, boxer short, t-shirts, mugs, STEINS?, buttons, magnets, aprons, and even wall clocks from this website:
http://www.cafepress.com/mindsite/1116998
I don't know if this site is run by the Howard Stern folks, but I think it is. I'm going to check into the legalities of them putting my grandfather's image on all this merchandise. At the very least, even if it is legal, I deserve a free wall clock and stein.
This discovery made, I had to write a letter to the Howard Stern show. I tried to keep it a little bit incendiary (but not too much), so they wouldn't throw it away without passing it along to him.
We'll see what happens.
I *have* found out that without a doubt, the Howard Stern show has infringed on Jon Gnagy's trademark rights and violated what's known as "Right to Publicity" which in many states is a sub-section of the "Right to Privacy" law. However, both california and Texas have their own official "Right to Publicity" laws.
In California, the use of any individual's name and image for commercial(or other) is prohibited with a statute for 70 years after an individual's death. [Cal Civil Code § 3344-3344.1] In Texas, it's a statute of 50 years.
The only way the show would be able to defend themselves were if they had gotten express (and written) permission for use of Jon Gnagy's image and name from the legal executors of Jon Gnagy's estate. I doubt my Aunt Polly has done so, but I'm curious to find that out.
However, even if they were sued and they lost, they would only have to:
1) Abandon selling merchandise that used his name and image, and
2) Pay $750.00 to the estate or the amount that was gained from the use of the aforementioned name and image (whichever is more).
I'm going to talk to Junie and Mishell (my two lawyer girlfriends) and see what they think.
Sigh.
This morning, I found that I can buy messenger bags, thongs, infant sleepers, boxer short, t-shirts, mugs, STEINS?, buttons, magnets, aprons, and even wall clocks from this website:
http://www.cafepress.com/mindsite/1116998
I don't know if this site is run by the Howard Stern folks, but I think it is. I'm going to check into the legalities of them putting my grandfather's image on all this merchandise. At the very least, even if it is legal, I deserve a free wall clock and stein.
This discovery made, I had to write a letter to the Howard Stern show. I tried to keep it a little bit incendiary (but not too much), so they wouldn't throw it away without passing it along to him.
We'll see what happens.
I *have* found out that without a doubt, the Howard Stern show has infringed on Jon Gnagy's trademark rights and violated what's known as "Right to Publicity" which in many states is a sub-section of the "Right to Privacy" law. However, both california and Texas have their own official "Right to Publicity" laws.
In California, the use of any individual's name and image for commercial(or other) is prohibited with a statute for 70 years after an individual's death. [Cal Civil Code § 3344-3344.1] In Texas, it's a statute of 50 years.
The only way the show would be able to defend themselves were if they had gotten express (and written) permission for use of Jon Gnagy's image and name from the legal executors of Jon Gnagy's estate. I doubt my Aunt Polly has done so, but I'm curious to find that out.
However, even if they were sued and they lost, they would only have to:
1) Abandon selling merchandise that used his name and image, and
2) Pay $750.00 to the estate or the amount that was gained from the use of the aforementioned name and image (whichever is more).
I'm going to talk to Junie and Mishell (my two lawyer girlfriends) and see what they think.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
If I could cut the eight hours down to five....
At work, that is...then maybe I'd have time to do all I'd like to do. I've never wanted to not work at all, for I crave structure and deadlines and business. Admittedly this urge runs stronger in me mostly for the things I WANT to do, like writing or music. But I've never wanted to work non-stop on ONLY the things I want to do. With my procrastinatory nature, that approach could run my life down to virtually nothing (and in fact, has).
So, here I am with lots to love and less time to love it.
I've been out and about the past couple of days-- Beerland last night for The Ettes and various and sundry other bands, and then I also just saw the Two Timin' Three at Hole in the Wall. I was inspired--ideas ran rampant in my brain as I soaked in their sheer talent and proefessionalism and love of what they do. They asked me to sing and so I sat in...the band started playing, and like a ride on a beloved and familiar steed, I ambled right back on to the singing track.
I love it all over again.
How come I forget how much I love to sing until I sing? I suppose it must be because I also forget how much I love to write until I write, or how much I love to exercise until I've had a good workout, or dance until I've had a night of dancing, or how much I love sex until I have it it again.
Why is my physiological memory so short? Why can't it remember the things it loves to do, and galvanize my mind into doing them? Is it only a matter of habit, or does it run deeper, into less easily controlled areas of self-esteem and compulsiveness? I'd love to get to the root of this. Perhaps I shall do a month-long experiment and keep track of my well-being.
Anyway--I'm going now because it's time for a snack, a little bit of mindless relaxtion (read: Ugly Betty), a hot bath, and then blessed sleep. Ahhhh....sleep.
So, here I am with lots to love and less time to love it.
I've been out and about the past couple of days-- Beerland last night for The Ettes and various and sundry other bands, and then I also just saw the Two Timin' Three at Hole in the Wall. I was inspired--ideas ran rampant in my brain as I soaked in their sheer talent and proefessionalism and love of what they do. They asked me to sing and so I sat in...the band started playing, and like a ride on a beloved and familiar steed, I ambled right back on to the singing track.
I love it all over again.
How come I forget how much I love to sing until I sing? I suppose it must be because I also forget how much I love to write until I write, or how much I love to exercise until I've had a good workout, or dance until I've had a night of dancing, or how much I love sex until I have it it again.
Why is my physiological memory so short? Why can't it remember the things it loves to do, and galvanize my mind into doing them? Is it only a matter of habit, or does it run deeper, into less easily controlled areas of self-esteem and compulsiveness? I'd love to get to the root of this. Perhaps I shall do a month-long experiment and keep track of my well-being.
Anyway--I'm going now because it's time for a snack, a little bit of mindless relaxtion (read: Ugly Betty), a hot bath, and then blessed sleep. Ahhhh....sleep.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Une belle expérience cinématographique.
Last night I watched Bernardo Bertolucci's "The Dreamers," and I LOVED it. I'm not very up on my cinematic chops, but this one really inspired and educated me, and it's not even close to the real deal. It was a compelling depiction of politics and culture in France in 1968 (and really great sex scenes!), centering around the student-led protests and riots that ensued following the dismissal of Henri Langlois from the Cinémathèque Française at Palais de Chaillot.
As I watched the movie, I came to wholly understand the fascination that cinema holds for so many. I related so well to the teenagers' fascination with referencing obscure lines and actions from movies like "Queen Christina" or other classic films. Their games intrigued me the way I am intrigued when someone references an old hillbilly artist, or mentions someone like Goree Carter. Also appearing were Jean-Pierre Kalfon and Jean-Pierre Léaud, who in the movie delivered forceful speeches to the collected students, as they had actually done in 1968.
The soundtrack was great too; good 1960s rock and roll...not as Americans worshipped it but as Europeans worshipped it. Most independent American films depicting this era would not use so obvious an icon as Janis Joplin, but in a French film it makes complete sense.
Watching the extra features on this also educated me to the dawning of the French New Wave of cinema. I've always been sort of drawn to the look and feel of France in the 1960s, but I've never known where to start as far as movies go.
All of a sudden, I find myself obsessed with learning all I can about this artistic movement. So today, I learned and formulated a plan. Here is how I am going to educate myself:
As far as films go, I'm going to start with Truffaut--likely "Jules and Jim".
In addition, I will get Godard's "Breathless" and will see if I can find a copy of "Pierrot Le Fou".
Oh, and then Agnès Vardas I already have in my Netflix queue with "Cleo from 5 to 7".
Something from Rohmer, but I'm not sure where to start with that.
I just know I'm going to love Jacques Demy, so I'll watch the first thing I can find by him.
After that, we'll see where I'm led.
I'm also going to read some of the criticisms from Andre Bazin, and also see(somewhat less related to this) the documentary on Frank Gehry.
I plan to watch more by Nicholas Ray, Howard Hawks (I've seen quite a few of his, naturally, but there are many more I have been reticent to pick up for some reason), a few more by Orson Welles (why have I never seen "Casino Royale?").
As I watched the movie, I came to wholly understand the fascination that cinema holds for so many. I related so well to the teenagers' fascination with referencing obscure lines and actions from movies like "Queen Christina" or other classic films. Their games intrigued me the way I am intrigued when someone references an old hillbilly artist, or mentions someone like Goree Carter. Also appearing were Jean-Pierre Kalfon and Jean-Pierre Léaud, who in the movie delivered forceful speeches to the collected students, as they had actually done in 1968.
The soundtrack was great too; good 1960s rock and roll...not as Americans worshipped it but as Europeans worshipped it. Most independent American films depicting this era would not use so obvious an icon as Janis Joplin, but in a French film it makes complete sense.
Watching the extra features on this also educated me to the dawning of the French New Wave of cinema. I've always been sort of drawn to the look and feel of France in the 1960s, but I've never known where to start as far as movies go.
All of a sudden, I find myself obsessed with learning all I can about this artistic movement. So today, I learned and formulated a plan. Here is how I am going to educate myself:
As far as films go, I'm going to start with Truffaut--likely "Jules and Jim".
In addition, I will get Godard's "Breathless" and will see if I can find a copy of "Pierrot Le Fou".
Oh, and then Agnès Vardas I already have in my Netflix queue with "Cleo from 5 to 7".
Something from Rohmer, but I'm not sure where to start with that.
I just know I'm going to love Jacques Demy, so I'll watch the first thing I can find by him.
After that, we'll see where I'm led.
I'm also going to read some of the criticisms from Andre Bazin, and also see(somewhat less related to this) the documentary on Frank Gehry.
I plan to watch more by Nicholas Ray, Howard Hawks (I've seen quite a few of his, naturally, but there are many more I have been reticent to pick up for some reason), a few more by Orson Welles (why have I never seen "Casino Royale?").
Necesito comida por mi desayuno.
The only sounds in the house--my fingers clacking on the keyboard, coffee perking, and the hum of our heating system. I feel fuzzy-headed yet somehow calm. Chores needin' be done, store needin' be shopped, and I think I'm going to enjoy this day. It's obvious from the fact that I am taking five minutes or so to write a little "state of my mind" blog, when there isn't really anything to say. That's when I find myself the most relaxed.
Today I write some new Casey Sisters songs using the old tried-and-true formula. Should take me about two hours to write three or so. Kind of funny how little effort that band takes when I think about it. I guess it's just one of those plain old "crowd-pleaser" acts, not too taxing on the mind or heart, and lots of fun.
I want oatmeal this morning.
Today I write some new Casey Sisters songs using the old tried-and-true formula. Should take me about two hours to write three or so. Kind of funny how little effort that band takes when I think about it. I guess it's just one of those plain old "crowd-pleaser" acts, not too taxing on the mind or heart, and lots of fun.
I want oatmeal this morning.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Sometimes you feel like a nut....
And sometimes you *still* feel like a nut.
Tired of thinking. Tired of talking. Truthfully, I just want to feel comfortable and safe, in my own mind more than anything.
I hung out with Laura for about twenty blissful minutes today. Tonight, I watched a silly girlie movie which I took way too much enjoyment in. Talked to Monica about eight times (because our phones kept cutting each other off)...attempting to discuss getting to D&J's party. Talked to Rachel about a crush she has. Things actually look good there, yay! Oh, and I talked to my cats.
I think I liked my conversation with the cats the best.
Wait...who's a nut?
Tired of thinking. Tired of talking. Truthfully, I just want to feel comfortable and safe, in my own mind more than anything.
I hung out with Laura for about twenty blissful minutes today. Tonight, I watched a silly girlie movie which I took way too much enjoyment in. Talked to Monica about eight times (because our phones kept cutting each other off)...attempting to discuss getting to D&J's party. Talked to Rachel about a crush she has. Things actually look good there, yay! Oh, and I talked to my cats.
I think I liked my conversation with the cats the best.
Wait...who's a nut?
Thursday, January 11, 2007
I swear, I had nothing to do with it!
Look--there are plenty still around, as of yesterday on Town Lake!
I need a corner-shelf for all my mind's knicknacks.
On Yahoo! "News" earlier today, there was an article on a possible link between impulsiveness and procrastination. What I want to know is, how did they find me?
FOUR(4). That's the number of (jokingly) accusatory emails I received from random people who don't live in Texas. They all wanted to know what I did to the poor birds down here. Kind of funny how they all each thought they were funny. It's a prime example of an inverse relationship with humor: The first email was rather funny, but a second person with the same joke is less funny...and it's a downward spiral from there as the number increases. Plus today on the South 1st bridge I got dive-bombed by what appeared to be 700 or so birds. No joke. I tried to take a picture to prove my innocence, but the light turned green.
THREE (3). The number of times Justin has tried to contact me in the last two days. In my first answer, told him that I refused to give him my number, and then I didn't respond to his other "I'm single now" email. The last one asked me to go run around with him, "honky-tonkin'." I started to write back with a sentence that said "Ummm--don't see that happening," but I don't want to be mean. I just want to be left alone. I wonder if he thinks from my Myspace profile since it says "single", that I'm waiting for him or something. God, but I hope not.
THIRTY-TWO(32). The number of items I had on my list for all the things to take care of this week. Started the list (of tasks both big and small) on Sunday evening.
FOURTEEN (14). The number of items I have left to complete. This is wonderful news. Can I do anything? Just maybe, I can....
My room is clean, so that means I'm now free to mess it up again with all manner of projects. Which I plan to do shortly.
My desk is cleaned off save for the dozen of books currently being read, or about to be read. Maybe I should get off the computer and go read one? Mayhap.
My (ex?)stepmother sent me a check for $25.00 today for a small portion Jonny Pop's quarterly check from Weber. My plan is to send it back to her with a polite paragraph or two, thanking her. I refuse to get into the myriad of complex emotions that merely interacting with her creates. I'm going to simply say that I think she needs the money more than I do right now, and write about some unrelated, cheerful stuff. She won't know my true thoughts on the disjointed, assumptive, pseudo-factual, and "mired in the bitter past" words of her enclosed letter...that they made me tired, frustrated, helpless, and sad. I'm going to be sweet to her and still get my point across, because to do or imply anything else would just be hurtful. I *kind of* want to tell her never to write me a check again, but that would sound much more condescending or indignant than I mean it to sound. I'll also send her a copy of my demo.
So, then...David Beckham is joining L.A. Galaxy. Since my little "hooligan" days, soccer is the only sport which I semi-follow. I saw L.A. Galaxy play many a time back when MLS started in 1996 and I went to every Kansas City Wiz game. Truly sad, the state of American soccer. It's always been a bit of a bummer to me that major-league soccer had to completely start over from scratch in this country. That's what they get for paying more attention to Joe Namath (and, increasingly, WWF and UFC stars). Of course MLS is going to be a joke after all those years. I'd like to see them play Chelsea or Juventus. Could mean the end of American major-league soccer as we know it. Anyhow, the stuff I read today interested me. Beckham and his wee Spice-wife are the perfect "Hollywood-style" additions for a deal of this sort. Guess who's a goin' to be in picktchahs? Little Vicki, that's who. But at the same time, I'm sort of hoping his addition will lend some credibility to the U.S. soccer league. He has to know how much they suck...there's no question. He's taking a very advantageous step--basically getting into a league that he could conceivably end up running someday. Plus Little Vicki can be in picktchahs.
I'm ready to relax. I think it's reading time now.
This weekend I hope to see: Laura--she's back from Chicago and I miss her. Steve--because I almost always want to see him.
That's about it.
FOUR(4). That's the number of (jokingly) accusatory emails I received from random people who don't live in Texas. They all wanted to know what I did to the poor birds down here. Kind of funny how they all each thought they were funny. It's a prime example of an inverse relationship with humor: The first email was rather funny, but a second person with the same joke is less funny...and it's a downward spiral from there as the number increases. Plus today on the South 1st bridge I got dive-bombed by what appeared to be 700 or so birds. No joke. I tried to take a picture to prove my innocence, but the light turned green.
THREE (3). The number of times Justin has tried to contact me in the last two days. In my first answer, told him that I refused to give him my number, and then I didn't respond to his other "I'm single now" email. The last one asked me to go run around with him, "honky-tonkin'." I started to write back with a sentence that said "Ummm--don't see that happening," but I don't want to be mean. I just want to be left alone. I wonder if he thinks from my Myspace profile since it says "single", that I'm waiting for him or something. God, but I hope not.
THIRTY-TWO(32). The number of items I had on my list for all the things to take care of this week. Started the list (of tasks both big and small) on Sunday evening.
FOURTEEN (14). The number of items I have left to complete. This is wonderful news. Can I do anything? Just maybe, I can....
My room is clean, so that means I'm now free to mess it up again with all manner of projects. Which I plan to do shortly.
My desk is cleaned off save for the dozen of books currently being read, or about to be read. Maybe I should get off the computer and go read one? Mayhap.
My (ex?)stepmother sent me a check for $25.00 today for a small portion Jonny Pop's quarterly check from Weber. My plan is to send it back to her with a polite paragraph or two, thanking her. I refuse to get into the myriad of complex emotions that merely interacting with her creates. I'm going to simply say that I think she needs the money more than I do right now, and write about some unrelated, cheerful stuff. She won't know my true thoughts on the disjointed, assumptive, pseudo-factual, and "mired in the bitter past" words of her enclosed letter...that they made me tired, frustrated, helpless, and sad. I'm going to be sweet to her and still get my point across, because to do or imply anything else would just be hurtful. I *kind of* want to tell her never to write me a check again, but that would sound much more condescending or indignant than I mean it to sound. I'll also send her a copy of my demo.
So, then...David Beckham is joining L.A. Galaxy. Since my little "hooligan" days, soccer is the only sport which I semi-follow. I saw L.A. Galaxy play many a time back when MLS started in 1996 and I went to every Kansas City Wiz game. Truly sad, the state of American soccer. It's always been a bit of a bummer to me that major-league soccer had to completely start over from scratch in this country. That's what they get for paying more attention to Joe Namath (and, increasingly, WWF and UFC stars). Of course MLS is going to be a joke after all those years. I'd like to see them play Chelsea or Juventus. Could mean the end of American major-league soccer as we know it. Anyhow, the stuff I read today interested me. Beckham and his wee Spice-wife are the perfect "Hollywood-style" additions for a deal of this sort. Guess who's a goin' to be in picktchahs? Little Vicki, that's who. But at the same time, I'm sort of hoping his addition will lend some credibility to the U.S. soccer league. He has to know how much they suck...there's no question. He's taking a very advantageous step--basically getting into a league that he could conceivably end up running someday. Plus Little Vicki can be in picktchahs.
I'm ready to relax. I think it's reading time now.
This weekend I hope to see: Laura--she's back from Chicago and I miss her. Steve--because I almost always want to see him.
That's about it.
Monday, January 8, 2007
All my ex-somethings are rising....
WOW.
I just sent two "leave me the hell alone" emails in five minutes.
One of my exes just emailed me and asked for my number again. Consider this: the last time I had contact with him over the phone, he called me (drunk and I think high) at 4:00am, and after telling me he was being chased by his (forgive my crassness) baby-mama with a knife, SHE then started calling my number. At 4:00am. On a Monday night.
Good lord.
It's amazing how fast the "leave me the hell alone" email flew from my hands after briefly considering the most direct, yet least vicious way to get the point across.
So I reply:
Hey ______,
Not to make you mad, but I'm afraid I am not going to give you my number. The drama in your life, and mainly your relationship with ________, is nothing I want to contend with. So pretty much you shouldn't be messing with talking to me, even as a friend.
Hope your family and your new son are all doing well, in any case.
And I am doing fairly "awesome," thank you for asking. :^)
~Caroline
And then there's the other guy. While an extremely intelligent, talented and all-around pretty nifty feller, he sometimes acts a bit unbalanced and somewhat snappy--or at least, towards me.
I told him I don't really want to hang out with him, because he made me feel shitty last time I ran into him. Soooo, I guess that's that. I hope he doesn't want to "discuss" it, because frankly I just don't have the energy anymore.
When did I become so blunt? I don't regret writing either email, but still I feel guilty. Sigh.
I guess I'm just tired of interacting with people who make me feel like I'm screwed up when I am doing nothing to deserve it.
I just sent two "leave me the hell alone" emails in five minutes.
One of my exes just emailed me and asked for my number again. Consider this: the last time I had contact with him over the phone, he called me (drunk and I think high) at 4:00am, and after telling me he was being chased by his (forgive my crassness) baby-mama with a knife, SHE then started calling my number. At 4:00am. On a Monday night.
Good lord.
It's amazing how fast the "leave me the hell alone" email flew from my hands after briefly considering the most direct, yet least vicious way to get the point across.
So I reply:
Hey ______,
Not to make you mad, but I'm afraid I am not going to give you my number. The drama in your life, and mainly your relationship with ________, is nothing I want to contend with. So pretty much you shouldn't be messing with talking to me, even as a friend.
Hope your family and your new son are all doing well, in any case.
And I am doing fairly "awesome," thank you for asking. :^)
~Caroline
And then there's the other guy. While an extremely intelligent, talented and all-around pretty nifty feller, he sometimes acts a bit unbalanced and somewhat snappy--or at least, towards me.
I told him I don't really want to hang out with him, because he made me feel shitty last time I ran into him. Soooo, I guess that's that. I hope he doesn't want to "discuss" it, because frankly I just don't have the energy anymore.
When did I become so blunt? I don't regret writing either email, but still I feel guilty. Sigh.
I guess I'm just tired of interacting with people who make me feel like I'm screwed up when I am doing nothing to deserve it.
The last few days for me have been...well, what have they been like? I guess I feel like I've been trying to climb a mountain made of satin.
Projects, ideas, good things, bad things--they've been coming and going with alarming speed. I've got a weekly to-do list at my work that is running about twenty-five items long, and my personal one is running about a third longer than that. And it's not that I'm not being productive--I definitely am. It's just that the small things keep piling, fortified by the occasionally seemingly un-doable task.
I'll pat myself on the back, though. Not counting all accomplished at work (not enough but I already worked 45 minutes of overtime today and them sinuses is draggin' me, baby, draggin' me!), between yesterday and today I have:
Read a book
Practiced my Spanish a lot
Made copies of all my published writings
Sent a thank-you package to my step-grandfather.
Mailed a packet of clips to O. Rios at Rockabilly Magazine.
Watched a movie
Wrote two pages for a Swedish magazine who wanted to interview us.
...and now, on to the completion of that list.
I'm tired, and I just want to be petted. Guess I'll go pet my cats.
Projects, ideas, good things, bad things--they've been coming and going with alarming speed. I've got a weekly to-do list at my work that is running about twenty-five items long, and my personal one is running about a third longer than that. And it's not that I'm not being productive--I definitely am. It's just that the small things keep piling, fortified by the occasionally seemingly un-doable task.
I'll pat myself on the back, though. Not counting all accomplished at work (not enough but I already worked 45 minutes of overtime today and them sinuses is draggin' me, baby, draggin' me!), between yesterday and today I have:
Read a book
Practiced my Spanish a lot
Made copies of all my published writings
Sent a thank-you package to my step-grandfather.
Mailed a packet of clips to O. Rios at Rockabilly Magazine.
Watched a movie
Wrote two pages for a Swedish magazine who wanted to interview us.
...and now, on to the completion of that list.
I'm tired, and I just want to be petted. Guess I'll go pet my cats.
Monday, January 1, 2007
Digby go buh-bye.
I've made a final decision to sell my 1964 Plymouth Valiant, Digby. Sigh. I don't really want to, but I have to face the fact that I'm not going to work on him--ever, not with all the other stuff I have going on. Better to take the money I get from him and sink it into some of that, anyhow.
I had a cozy and fantastic New Year's, one of the best ever...chock-full of old videos and new belongings, which with the usual fluid conversation, added immeasurably to the sparkle of numerous hazelnut-citrus spritzers, red wine, and champagne. And yes, I *did* have a headache this morning.
So--it's 2007. I'm hoping this year will unfurl slowly and then at some point burst forth, with riotous color, the fruit of all my labors. And then I savor, and savor, and digest...and then the process, I am sure, will begin again. Such is my particular cycle of creativity.
I had a cozy and fantastic New Year's, one of the best ever...chock-full of old videos and new belongings, which with the usual fluid conversation, added immeasurably to the sparkle of numerous hazelnut-citrus spritzers, red wine, and champagne. And yes, I *did* have a headache this morning.
So--it's 2007. I'm hoping this year will unfurl slowly and then at some point burst forth, with riotous color, the fruit of all my labors. And then I savor, and savor, and digest...and then the process, I am sure, will begin again. Such is my particular cycle of creativity.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
July 29, 1972
In Maryville, Missouri, I was born at 5:06pm. In Burbank, California, Wil Wheaton's mom was in labor, too.
Some other people also born on July 29th are:
Benito Mussolini
Clara Bow
Johannes Schmidt
Stephen Dorff
William Powell
Diana Vreeland
Elizabeth Short (the Black Dahlia)
Peter Jennings
Alexis de Tocqueville
Charlie Christian
Ken Burns
I still feel ucky, but a whole bunch better than I did yesterday. If I get ten hours of sleep tonight, I might just be good as new for when I see Steve again tomorrow. I'm completely looking forward to it, and to spending my New Year's Eve with him.
Some other people also born on July 29th are:
Benito Mussolini
Clara Bow
Johannes Schmidt
Stephen Dorff
William Powell
Diana Vreeland
Elizabeth Short (the Black Dahlia)
Peter Jennings
Alexis de Tocqueville
Charlie Christian
Ken Burns
I still feel ucky, but a whole bunch better than I did yesterday. If I get ten hours of sleep tonight, I might just be good as new for when I see Steve again tomorrow. I'm completely looking forward to it, and to spending my New Year's Eve with him.
Friday, December 29, 2006
Blecch.
I awoke this morning with a swollen throat, at least a up of phlegm roiling within, an excruciating headache, and a ridiulous level of body aches. Nothing feels feverish or I'd worry it's the flu, but I don't feel good nonetheless. I went to work for a few hours this morning--cranky, in no mood to deal with the madcap minutae that so regularly arrives in my Outlook email. Normally I enjoy tackling this, but today? All I could do was stare bleary-eyed while I trried to make some sense of the boxes and binders I needed to send to different sites today, and not thinking clearly enough to do it properly. Oh, they went on their way, but I'm sure I made mistakes. I'll find out on Tuesday.
I stopped by CM on the way home for provisions--soup, chicken, rolls, good ol' greens; I even got a little container of chocolate-dipped macaroons, and a small serving of mac & cheese. Hey, I'm sick! I need this stuff. At least, that's how I justifed it. Bleary-eyed and aching, I ate it and watched a forgettable movie starring Luke Wilson and slept for hours.
Headhache has lessened as have the body aches, but we'll see where I can go from here.
I stopped by CM on the way home for provisions--soup, chicken, rolls, good ol' greens; I even got a little container of chocolate-dipped macaroons, and a small serving of mac & cheese. Hey, I'm sick! I need this stuff. At least, that's how I justifed it. Bleary-eyed and aching, I ate it and watched a forgettable movie starring Luke Wilson and slept for hours.
Headhache has lessened as have the body aches, but we'll see where I can go from here.
Monday, December 25, 2006
Christmas, for me.
It was a fun, festive evening at Kevin & Justine's new place in the country. I made Christmas ornaments with their kids Dixon and Delia. Delia is two and has an insatiable urge for Hershey's Kisses and her ornaments reflected this. Dixon is five can count to 100 by tens and spell "w-h-i-t-e." I ate green cornflake cookies, drank hot apple cider, talked for a long time about history and Native Americans with Gary Claxton and Brendan Ryan. I sat on a fat leather couch in a big old farmhouse with transoms above every door and 14-foot ceilings. I drank a glass of wine and talked about memories and the startling smallness of this global world with Jim and Dana Stringer. On the way out to their house, I talked to my little brother; on the way home, I talked to my mother.
Once I got home,I started thinking about friends I hadn't seen or heard from in ten or more years. I found a couple of them through internet searches and attempted contact. We'll see how that turns out. Then before I knew it, I was plopped down on the floor by my bed in slippers and sweater with a kitty beside me, opening envelope after envelope of old letters, love letters, postcards, vintage magazines, collages. I remembered Christopher James Wilson, and hoped he got his PhD and started that blues band he always wanted to do. I re-read affectionately disjointed letters from Aaron Brizendine and hoped that he had overcome some of his mental issues. I wondered what became of Dave Moyer. I remembered which girlfriend sent me that unsigned postcard. For all of these, I tried to find them on the internet...because to me, finding an article or a site or SOMETHING on there usually means that the person has evolved up and out in the world and not folded within themselves into a small, small world.
Small worlds are sad to me, and always have been. It's one thing to live in a simple world with carefully chosen people--but an isolated mind that chooses not to seek out the expansiveness of education and inspiration, well...that's the saddest place I know of. Another example is someone who lives in a fantasy world of their own potential--where their dreams and wishes flourish in their heads but still go unvoiced. We all do this to some extent, but there are more serious cases. I know them--I have even been in love with them. They do not know how to allow anyone into their lives close enough to even share these dreams. It's too scary for them, or they are afraid they'll "jinx" it. Whatever. As we all know, our mind is our own worst enemy when it comes to tearing us down. So these people may have a brilliant idea that they know would make them happy, but they don't share it with others and eventually the mind breaks it down with something like "You'll never achive that--in a world of black tuxedoes, you're just a pair of brown shoes." With no one else to bolster, the ideas drown in infancy, bogged down by the mind's negative sludge, never to rise again.
I digress.
I went for a midnight drive after reading these bittersweet old letters. I bought a tin of those old-fashioned Christmas candies which I have always loved. You the kind--all manner of bright colors with almost indistinguishable flavors?
The kid in the checkout said, "Yeah, my grandfather still always eats those. They stick together in a big lump and you hafta break them up with a fork to separate them. I wouldn't touch 'em." This put a Cheshire cat-like grin across my face. I thanked him and took my "grandpa candies" with me. Hooray for grandpa candies!
Here's a picture...they had stuck together in one big lump and I had to separate them with a fork. Yep.
I slept well last night. I dreamt of travel and people and places, as usual. I dreamed of being sought after--both negative and positive, and a common dream for me. This morning, Christmas morning, I am alone. Am I sad? Not really. Wishing for more? Definitely. I would enjoy spending my Christmas with loved ones. I need them around me, and I'm not going to say I don't or that I don't feel a bit lonely today. However this "separated" feeling is something I'm used to, so instead I just try to enjoy my solitude, recognize and ackowledge those sucky little feelings, and be thankful for those whom I hold dear. I could use some hugs, some kisses and generally cherished feelings...I could use some "sit down at the table and talk" times, but I shall have them. So what if it's not on December 25? Hollow as it may sound to even my own ears today, I shall eat my grandpa candies and watch movies and read books and work on creating a better environment for my own inner world.
Once I got home,I started thinking about friends I hadn't seen or heard from in ten or more years. I found a couple of them through internet searches and attempted contact. We'll see how that turns out. Then before I knew it, I was plopped down on the floor by my bed in slippers and sweater with a kitty beside me, opening envelope after envelope of old letters, love letters, postcards, vintage magazines, collages. I remembered Christopher James Wilson, and hoped he got his PhD and started that blues band he always wanted to do. I re-read affectionately disjointed letters from Aaron Brizendine and hoped that he had overcome some of his mental issues. I wondered what became of Dave Moyer. I remembered which girlfriend sent me that unsigned postcard. For all of these, I tried to find them on the internet...because to me, finding an article or a site or SOMETHING on there usually means that the person has evolved up and out in the world and not folded within themselves into a small, small world.
Small worlds are sad to me, and always have been. It's one thing to live in a simple world with carefully chosen people--but an isolated mind that chooses not to seek out the expansiveness of education and inspiration, well...that's the saddest place I know of. Another example is someone who lives in a fantasy world of their own potential--where their dreams and wishes flourish in their heads but still go unvoiced. We all do this to some extent, but there are more serious cases. I know them--I have even been in love with them. They do not know how to allow anyone into their lives close enough to even share these dreams. It's too scary for them, or they are afraid they'll "jinx" it. Whatever. As we all know, our mind is our own worst enemy when it comes to tearing us down. So these people may have a brilliant idea that they know would make them happy, but they don't share it with others and eventually the mind breaks it down with something like "You'll never achive that--in a world of black tuxedoes, you're just a pair of brown shoes." With no one else to bolster, the ideas drown in infancy, bogged down by the mind's negative sludge, never to rise again.
I digress.
I went for a midnight drive after reading these bittersweet old letters. I bought a tin of those old-fashioned Christmas candies which I have always loved. You the kind--all manner of bright colors with almost indistinguishable flavors?
The kid in the checkout said, "Yeah, my grandfather still always eats those. They stick together in a big lump and you hafta break them up with a fork to separate them. I wouldn't touch 'em." This put a Cheshire cat-like grin across my face. I thanked him and took my "grandpa candies" with me. Hooray for grandpa candies!
Here's a picture...they had stuck together in one big lump and I had to separate them with a fork. Yep.
I slept well last night. I dreamt of travel and people and places, as usual. I dreamed of being sought after--both negative and positive, and a common dream for me. This morning, Christmas morning, I am alone. Am I sad? Not really. Wishing for more? Definitely. I would enjoy spending my Christmas with loved ones. I need them around me, and I'm not going to say I don't or that I don't feel a bit lonely today. However this "separated" feeling is something I'm used to, so instead I just try to enjoy my solitude, recognize and ackowledge those sucky little feelings, and be thankful for those whom I hold dear. I could use some hugs, some kisses and generally cherished feelings...I could use some "sit down at the table and talk" times, but I shall have them. So what if it's not on December 25? Hollow as it may sound to even my own ears today, I shall eat my grandpa candies and watch movies and read books and work on creating a better environment for my own inner world.
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Caroline Casey attacks a Yahoo! media writer....
Hehehe...before you read this, please know that I myself am highly amused and somewhat ashamed of myself for even being ired enough to write such a passionate response to today's shining example of the drivel that makes headline news on the Yahoo! front page.
But anyway, I'll place it here just so you too can make fun of me and my "righteous" anger. Ha!
***************************************
THE ARTICLE on Yahoo! front page--Sat Dec 23, 2006:
End of a Childhood Ritual
Posted by Cheryl Koch, M.S., R.D.
on Thu, Dec 07, 2006, 9:30 am PST
One of my fondest childhood memories is licking the bowl clean of batter when my grandmother or mother baked cookies and cakes. As far as I was concerned, the best part of any baked dessert was the raw batter before it was placed in the oven.
Today, as the mother of a young child, I'm the one who's busy trying out new recipes for the holidays, and my son is my kitchen helper. But I now find myself hesitating to pass on that bowl I once savored so much.
I'm a nutritionist, after all, so I'm more aware than most people of the warnings about raw batter, homemade mayonnaise, and egg-laden sauces like Caesar dressing and Hollandaise sauce. The reason is a type of bacteria called salmonella enteritidis that's found in raw eggs. It was once thought that salmonella only infected eggs whose shells were cracked. Now experts have determined that all eggs carry the risk of salmonella.
To avoid the risks associated with salmonella and raw eggs, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention suggests the following recommendations:
-Keep eggs refrigerated and promptly refrigerate unused or leftover foods that contain eggs both cooked and raw.
-Discard cracked or dirty eggs.
-Follow basic food safety rules, such as proper hand-washing and cleaning cooking utensils with soap and water after contact with raw eggs.
-Eat eggs promptly after cooking. Do not keep eggs warm or at room temperature for longer than 2 hours.
-Avoid eating raw eggs in homemade ice cream or eggnog. Commercially manufactured ice cream and eggnog are made with pasteurized eggs and have not been linked with salmonella enteritidis infections.
-Avoid restaurant dishes made with raw or undercooked, unpasteurized eggs. Restaurants should use pasteurized eggs in any recipe that calls for raw eggs, such as Hollandaise sauce or Caesar salad dressing. If you have concerns, ask your server if pasteurized eggs are used at that establishment.
-An estimated one in 10,000 eggs carries salmonella bacteria that may cause serious problems in children, the elderly, and people with weak immune systems. So take heed. Just because the egg looks clean and the shell is intact, it still isn't safe to lick the bowl.
MY COMMENT:
I guess it's your job to warn the public on such a "health risk." Thank you, Cheryl, for letting us know about your own neurotic decision to end a time-honored tradition in your family, as a result of your own overprotectiveness. And thank you for attempting to present us with these facts without "officially" advising the public to do the same. The slant of your article is obvious--you're just HINTING that we should do the same. I get it...to do anything otherwise would just make us bad parents.
Frankly, you'd hold more journalistic credibility if you presented in your article a recorded example of even one case of a child dying from salmonella caught from "licking the bowl." Even that would be enough to satisfy me, as I'm sure other people would too. I can just see it now...scads of rolls of raw cookie dough yanked from refrigerator aisles in supermarkets coast to coast; front-page news of the latest salmonella outbreaks; tearful mothers being interviewed on "60 Minutes", sobbingly lamenting, "Oh, if ONLY I hadn't fed little Jimmy the cookie dough. But I thought it was SAFE! They told me it was SAFE!"...and so on.
This article is of exactly the same ilk as the myriad of other alarmist viewpoints the mainstream media feeds the general public. The world's already faced The Black Death, and cookie dough just isn't a second coming. Yahoo! is really reaching, as usual. Please understand, it's not that I'm holding you personally responsible--your article is typical of Yahoo!'s pseudo-factual journalism...publishing opinion pieces by random "experts", carefully crafted to appear as hard news. I only hope they paid you a pretty penny.
'Tis the season, I suppose.
But anyway, I'll place it here just so you too can make fun of me and my "righteous" anger. Ha!
***************************************
THE ARTICLE on Yahoo! front page--Sat Dec 23, 2006:
End of a Childhood Ritual
Posted by Cheryl Koch, M.S., R.D.
on Thu, Dec 07, 2006, 9:30 am PST
One of my fondest childhood memories is licking the bowl clean of batter when my grandmother or mother baked cookies and cakes. As far as I was concerned, the best part of any baked dessert was the raw batter before it was placed in the oven.
Today, as the mother of a young child, I'm the one who's busy trying out new recipes for the holidays, and my son is my kitchen helper. But I now find myself hesitating to pass on that bowl I once savored so much.
I'm a nutritionist, after all, so I'm more aware than most people of the warnings about raw batter, homemade mayonnaise, and egg-laden sauces like Caesar dressing and Hollandaise sauce. The reason is a type of bacteria called salmonella enteritidis that's found in raw eggs. It was once thought that salmonella only infected eggs whose shells were cracked. Now experts have determined that all eggs carry the risk of salmonella.
To avoid the risks associated with salmonella and raw eggs, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention suggests the following recommendations:
-Keep eggs refrigerated and promptly refrigerate unused or leftover foods that contain eggs both cooked and raw.
-Discard cracked or dirty eggs.
-Follow basic food safety rules, such as proper hand-washing and cleaning cooking utensils with soap and water after contact with raw eggs.
-Eat eggs promptly after cooking. Do not keep eggs warm or at room temperature for longer than 2 hours.
-Avoid eating raw eggs in homemade ice cream or eggnog. Commercially manufactured ice cream and eggnog are made with pasteurized eggs and have not been linked with salmonella enteritidis infections.
-Avoid restaurant dishes made with raw or undercooked, unpasteurized eggs. Restaurants should use pasteurized eggs in any recipe that calls for raw eggs, such as Hollandaise sauce or Caesar salad dressing. If you have concerns, ask your server if pasteurized eggs are used at that establishment.
-An estimated one in 10,000 eggs carries salmonella bacteria that may cause serious problems in children, the elderly, and people with weak immune systems. So take heed. Just because the egg looks clean and the shell is intact, it still isn't safe to lick the bowl.
MY COMMENT:
I guess it's your job to warn the public on such a "health risk." Thank you, Cheryl, for letting us know about your own neurotic decision to end a time-honored tradition in your family, as a result of your own overprotectiveness. And thank you for attempting to present us with these facts without "officially" advising the public to do the same. The slant of your article is obvious--you're just HINTING that we should do the same. I get it...to do anything otherwise would just make us bad parents.
Frankly, you'd hold more journalistic credibility if you presented in your article a recorded example of even one case of a child dying from salmonella caught from "licking the bowl." Even that would be enough to satisfy me, as I'm sure other people would too. I can just see it now...scads of rolls of raw cookie dough yanked from refrigerator aisles in supermarkets coast to coast; front-page news of the latest salmonella outbreaks; tearful mothers being interviewed on "60 Minutes", sobbingly lamenting, "Oh, if ONLY I hadn't fed little Jimmy the cookie dough. But I thought it was SAFE! They told me it was SAFE!"...and so on.
This article is of exactly the same ilk as the myriad of other alarmist viewpoints the mainstream media feeds the general public. The world's already faced The Black Death, and cookie dough just isn't a second coming. Yahoo! is really reaching, as usual. Please understand, it's not that I'm holding you personally responsible--your article is typical of Yahoo!'s pseudo-factual journalism...publishing opinion pieces by random "experts", carefully crafted to appear as hard news. I only hope they paid you a pretty penny.
'Tis the season, I suppose.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Busy with bizarrilarities.
The other day, I baked cookies. I have to say, although I bake fairly often, I'm pretty happy with how these turned out. I made chocolate/vanilla, vanilla/peppermint, chocolate/peppermint varieties.
Then earlier this week, I watched "ladies who lunch" having lunch. We're talking four-pound diamond rings, and glitzy shoes and fur purses. They were awesome and I had a difficult time not staring (and, obviously, taking pictures) whilst stabbing my shrimp pasta with a fork.
THE WORD ON THE STREETS:
Tonight some kid who works at Target made me feel like Julia Roberts in that scene of "Pretty Woman" where she gets shooed out of the store because she's not classy enough. He even had other customers giving me dirty looks. Now THAT was an odd experience.
Steve is one super-duper person--he amazes me constantly.
A certain business I know asked me to play their Christmas Party this year, but said they were too broke to pay me to play. Needless to say, I couldn't do it for free. I just looked at the bill and I have to admit that I concluded that what money they *could* spend was probably going to a certain Austin rockabilly band (and probably after that, right up the nose of its lead singer).
I love my newest nerdy little computer game. I also plan to play board games if at all possible while I'm off work for four days.
Saturday, December 16, 2006
I feel good.
I always feel like I give Monica short shrift and so this year, while I was able, I decided to go all out for her. Sometimes I feel like she doesn't look to me for the same kind of friendship as I look to her, but then again she's a supremely independent sort who while in tough times is MORE than there for her friends, she doesn't lean on them in kind when things are tough in her world. So I shouldn't feel too hurt by that, I guess.
Anyway, warm fuzzies have ensued as this email was waiting for me today when I checked it.
********************
Hey sweetie,
Thanks so much for the cake, the massive stash of goodies, cool basket,
gift card, and for being a good friend. The Reece's and red vines are
almost gone and the cake made for a delicious late night snack and
yummy breakfast. You outdone yourself on this bday present!!! Thanks so
much I love it and appreciate the effort you made to make my bday
special. The tres leches cake is the best I've had and makes La
Mexicana's seem like crap.
You are a good friend and a kick ass chick! I feel very fortunate to
have such cool peeps in my friendship posse. I love you! Thanks again
for everything! If you are hankerin' for some cake today give me a
holler.
Kisses,
Mon
***********************************************
Anyway, warm fuzzies have ensued as this email was waiting for me today when I checked it.
********************
Hey sweetie,
Thanks so much for the cake, the massive stash of goodies, cool basket,
gift card, and for being a good friend. The Reece's and red vines are
almost gone and the cake made for a delicious late night snack and
yummy breakfast. You outdone yourself on this bday present!!! Thanks so
much I love it and appreciate the effort you made to make my bday
special. The tres leches cake is the best I've had and makes La
Mexicana's seem like crap.
You are a good friend and a kick ass chick! I feel very fortunate to
have such cool peeps in my friendship posse. I love you! Thanks again
for everything! If you are hankerin' for some cake today give me a
holler.
Kisses,
Mon
***********************************************
Monday, December 4, 2006
Not so bad after all....
Julie pointed out that I've done a lot this year. I suppose it's true.
1) Moved to a new home
2) Started a new temp job
3) Got hired permanently at said job
4) Lived for a month off of one week's pay
5) Paid off the IRS monies owed since 1997
6) Got my student loan out of default
7) Booked some great California dates
8) Fell for someone
9) Totalled one car
10) Negotiated way over the car's worth and got the money
11) Paid $3000.00 down on a new car
12) Got a loan to buy a 2006 Kia Rio5 Hatchback
13) Put on several giant shows
14) Got in two car accidents
15) Learned the value of a chiropractor
16) Improved my credit noticeably (as in, I'm now approved more often)
17) Gone on more than one solo camping trip
18) Drank a lot
19) Ate a lot--I put on fifteen pounds
18) Recorded and mixed down a demo
19) Wrote ten new songs
20) Climbed a mountain
21) Got all my money stolen out of my bank account
22) Got a new, local bank account
Now, 2007? Let's see:
1) Start back to school (in production)
2) Visit Uncle Sam
3) Record/release Casey Sisters CD/DVD package (in production--they went for it!)
4) Play in Europe once more (in production)
5) Record with Don Cavalli
6) Get a raise
7) Visit my mom
8) Finish my solo album (in production)
9) HOPEFULLY no more car wrecks
10) Meet someone who falls for ME in return (in production?)
11) Drink less
12) Eat less--LOSE fifteen pounds (SHOULD BE in production)
13) Take a trip to Big Bend
14) Jaunt off to Mexico for a few
15) Refinance car
16) Start 401K at new employer
17) Start savings account (in production)
18) Get a little Schnauzer (okay, so maybe he'll be more 2008 or 2009)
19) Buy a powerbook
20) Buy a nice guitar
21) Buy a decent bed
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