the pink way of life

my body, my choice

noreply@blogger.com (Carly) — Sun, 27 Jul 2008 16:33:00 +0000

I went grocery shopping this morning while the world was at church, and noticed a car in the parking lot covered in stickers. Upon closer examination, they were all pro-life bumper stickers. Two (maybe three?) crucifixes hung from the mirror. I believe I noticed some pro-life literature on the passenger side seat.

I parked my Obama-sticker bearing car right next to it, complete with my license plate which implores others to spay and neuter their pets.

Bad, bad.

FDA Schmeff-DA

noreply@blogger.com (Carly) — Mon, 07 Jul 2008 23:43:00 +0000

The HPV vaccine (which can prevent cervical cancer in women) is currently under scrutiny as potentially causing severe side effects, including nausea, paralysis and death.

For the entire story, click here:
http://www.cnn.com/2008/HEALTH/conditions/07/07/cervical.cancer.vaccine/index.html

I'm disheartened, but not surprised. Americans seem to think that if the FDA approves something, it must be OK. The truth of the matter is that the FDA is most likely leading us all to early graves.

Take Recombinant Bovine Growth Hormone (rBGH). The hormone is used in feed for cows, to both increase meat and milk production. The problem is that this hormone is found in the milk we drink, and has been linked to serious health problems in both the animals that are being treated with the *synthetic* hormone and humans. (And for those who are disgusted and/or creeped out by eating genetically modified foods ... if you drink milk, you're drinking something genetically modified unless it's certified organic or soy.) By serious health problems, I'm talking cancer.

Due to both health reasons and my general outrage of how this synthetic hormone affects the animals it's inject into, I only drink soy milk (or milk straight from the farm.) Just like I only eat free-range chickens. (Imagine 1,000 chickens shoved in your bathroom ... those are the living conditions in many mass market chicken houses. And again, they're injected with tons of hormones that aren't found naturally in any living creature.)

For anyone who thinks the FDA has a firm grip on our food and drug industries, I encourage you to read "The Jungle" (pre-FDA) and "Fast Food Nation" (how most of our food sources come to be, not just McDonald's.) I realize both of those books deal mainly with the food industry, but I think realizing how shabbily the food industry is treated is eye-opening to how they must test the drugs they shill to all Americans.

Quick update

noreply@blogger.com (Carly) — Sun, 06 Jul 2008 21:37:00 +0000

Sorry for the posting hiatus. Unfortunately between writing FT and writing a novel, writing in my blog falls by the wayside. It's an excuse, I know. But it's what I have to offer.

The Fourth of July weekend was fairly uneventful. It was the typical Fourth ... parade, outdoor BBQ, fireworks. I spent Saturday in downtown Marietta, enjoying the quaint shops. My parents came down this morning, took me out to lunch, gave me some furniture. Right now I'm mentally preparing myself for this upcoming week.

Basically I'm forcing myself to write, because I don't have a really good topic in mind. Just wanted to update. So ... there it is.

going home

noreply@blogger.com (Carly) — Sat, 21 Jun 2008 22:39:00 +0000

I went home this weekend. Driving past the county line, I surprisingly found myself slowly loosening my grip on the steering wheel, with my breath coming just a bit easier. The mountain tops, gentle and sloping as they are, felt like long lost friends. Bowser, in the passenger seat, woke up from his nap and paid attention as the greenery sped toward us, a welcome sight after the skyscrapers of Atlanta.

Mom's home cooking. The cat curled up on the top front porch step. A summer breeze, just enough to make the high-80 degree weather bearable. Eavesdropping on the gossip between the two old men who sit in front of the pool room. A greasy burger and order of fries from Mr. P's (new and improved with a drive-thru!). Borrowing the truck and flying down the one-lane gravel roads. The farmers setting up at the Saturday morning market, with squash the size of your head and cabbage the size of two or even three of your heads. An early morning walk by the river.

I truly didn't appreciate this place while I was growing up, but now that I'm an adult, I feel as though I can really accept my childhood for what it was - a childhood. With a tomato and pepper patch in the backyard, with a honest-to-god scarecrow and everything. I guess every place to live has its own merits ... but I can't help but look at some of my "friends" (one of which admitted that she thought water just came magically from the water tower) and think how small their worlds really are, even though they look through their noses at me from time to time.

It's a slippery slope. Square footage wise, I guess I'm not good enough for some people.

But I know what it is to plant a seed, watch it grow, and reap the rewards with a delicious entirely homemade tomato, mozzarella, and basil salad. I know that the smell of chicken shit in the air is the smell of money. I know fresh water springs bubbling from the ground are better than any fancy bottle of water from France.

And I've finally realized that if people have a problem with that, and the place that I grew up, then those are their issues ... not mine.

why you shouldn't vote for mccain

noreply@blogger.com (Carly) — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 23:39:00 +0000

I'm currently working on the editorial part of one of our in-house magazines, and one of my stories involves certain stances that the presidential candidates are taking on certain issues.

The issue is a little obscure (except not really), and Obama has a frickin' nine page plan on his Web site. I must say, this is why Democrats aren't taken very seriously ... we're all pomp and no action. (I say 'we' because I am a registered Democrat, which shouldn't be confused with my political leanings.) But still, it was very helpful for my purpose. The media kit was easy to find as well, and again, helpful.

McCain had nothing on the issue, so I had to actually contact his communications/media department. No biggie. So I dial the # that is provided on his Web site. It rings ... rings ... rings.

What sounds like a surly teenage girl picks up the phone. (His daughter? Ha! I kid.) "McCain headquarters."

I explain what I need and she provides me with an E-mail address. "When is your deadline?"

I tell her. Keep in mind, this was three weeks ago and my deadline was yesterday. "Oh, we should definitely be able to accommodate that. Just put that in your E-mail."

Fine. We hang up, I shoot off an E-mail.

I believe it was the next day (again, this is three weeks ago) when I received an E-mail back. The gist? "Thanks for your request! We'll get to this in a timely manner."

A week goes by and I send off another E-mail. No response to that.

Another week goes by and I send off ANOTHER E-mail, this time a little bit pushier. No response.

Yesterday (deadline!), I send an urgent E-mail, blatantly saying that yes, I have Obama's side and we need to make this a fair and balanced piece.

I get an E-mail today (past deadline!) telling me that they receive too many requests from media outlets and won't be able to accommodate my request. But if I need their help in the future, please let them know. (!!!)

Gee, thanks. My story's going to look great with an entire full page of Obama statements and a page with some McCain pictures and canned copy.

I hope some stupid teenager that thinks s/he's got the job of a lifetime of working on McCain's campaign is told to Google his name, and this pops up, and they read how McCain's communications staff can kiss my McAss. Seriously, this makes me wonder about the "liberal" media ... maybe the media is "liberal" because the frickin' Republican party doesn't (can't?) get their information together!

Ugh.

sex and the city

noreply@blogger.com (Carly) — Mon, 16 Jun 2008 23:47:00 +0000

So, I finally saw Sex & the City yesterday ... I felt like the only girl alive who hadn't seen it yet, but judging by the packed theater, I was mistaken.

Unfortunately, I really have nothing positive to say about it. I mean, for a piece of pure fluff, it was perfect. Did it uphold what the show was about? In some parts, yes. Other parts, not so much. Was it incredibly offensive to women? Well, it should have been. I'm sorry, but I really resent the implication that women only care about two things ... labels and love.

Labels? Oh, I do love a good Coach bag. If I ever get my hands on that gorgeous purple Prada clutch that ideeli.com was giving away, I think I could probably die and go straight to heaven. But ... I also have a real problem spending as much money on a purse or a pair of shoes as I do for rent. If I have that kind of money to throw away, shouldn't it go to a good cause? Like ... food for starving people or something?

I think if you have the money and you've worked for it, good for you! Splurge a little. I'm not saying you need to be shopping at Goodwill (although I *heart* Goodwill and any thrift store!) But it's important to give back ... something this movie didn't even touch upon. In fact, both Miranda and Samantha blatantly portrayed that for any "dirty" task they didn't want to do (such as watch their kid or unpack some moving boxes), they could just pay someone else to do it. Um, hello? Kind of wrong. It should definitely be offensive to anyone in the middle and lower classes.

And love? I'm sorry, but the entire premise of the show (especially the first four season) was that you didn't NEED a man to be happy. You didn't need a man to be complete. You can be complete on your own. Unfortunately, the movie subscribes to the same idea that women magazines push on us ... single women aren't REALLY happy ... they can't be, after all they don't have the husband and the 2.5 kids and a dog, right?

And again, I love the idea of love. I would love to be in love at some point. But if I don't happen to find that man I'm supposed to be with, should that mean that I failed at some aspect of my life? Or that any single woman who never gets married is unhappy and a failure? This, of course, brings up the same old dumb argument ... George Clooney is a handsome bachelor while older single women are old maids, people to be pitied. Kind of dumb, very cliche ... but 100% true.

The main problem with the movie, of course, is Carrie. Not only has she always been the whiny-ass bitch of the show, but she's completely irrelevant today. While I don't think the target demographic quite gets it, the point is that close-to-50-year-old women should be grown up (as should their over-50-year-old boyfriends), and not still be treating a possible wedding like a high school prom. *That* was irritating.

Women need to wake up (particularly women in their middle age) and realize that we are still second class citizens (even after three waves of feminism) instead of parading around NYC streets searching for "labels and love" to the beats of some horrific Fergie song. The four women of SATC in seasons 1-4 (at least) would have realized that. And that's what made the movie such a disappointment.

slut girl?

noreply@blogger.com (Carly) — Wed, 11 Jun 2008 23:33:00 +0000

I have to say that it's getting to be incredibly difficult to sit at work and write all day ... and then come home and write some more. Moving completely threw me off track! I'm trying to get back into a schedule, but it hasn't been as easy as I thought. Oh, well ... I'm just going to keep going and hopefully I'll get somewhere at some point!

That being said, I had a rather depressing moment at work today. We're working on the promotional material for a book fair this upcoming October, and I was assigned to look up some storybook characters to star in the parade of characters.

Dorothy from "A Wizard of Oz"? OK.
Curious George? Sure.
Harry Potter? No shit.

The depressing part came when I started looking into stories for older children, beginning in fourth and fifth grade, up to eighth grade. The books clearly were marketed for boys or girls. There were few in between. And that's fine ... I clearly remember Nancy Drew and The Babysitters Club, and I realize few boys would be intrigued by those books. But ... Nancy Drew and The Babysitters Club are NOT popular these days. The more mature the books became ... the more mature they LITERALLY became for girls, complete with scantily clad impossibly skinny girls gracing the covers. "Gossip Girl!" "Clique Scene!" "Prom Nights From Hell!"

I had to giggle as I said to myself that apparently Anne Frank, Jo March ... or even Elizabeth Bennett wouldn't be that popular among teen girls these days.

Of course, there are still parents and educators giving children, girls AND boys, proper reading material ... from Roald Dahl and C.S. Lewis to Madeline L'Engle and Judy Blume. But come on ... I was a teen girl. I pushed limits. I bought shirts that showed my belly button behind my mom's back. I only read Seventeen for the sex advice. And, quite honestly, I was probably the "tamest" (for lack of a better term) girl growing up. I'm fairly certain around 84% of the girls in my graduating class had an STD of some sort.

Before I left work tonight, I told this to our office manager and we were laughing. She said, "Honestly? I would've never been allowed to read "Slut Girl" ... wait, what is it called?" and we nearly collapsed from laughing. But, quite truthfully, that's not an inappropriate title for what is being marketed to our young girls ... and what's sad/scary is that society lets it happen. We even promote it by basing our movies and TV shows on these books ... and making them #1 on the charts.

With all of the sexual images everyone is bombarded with pretty much daily, why do we have to worry what our young girls read now?

can you hear me now?

noreply@blogger.com (Carly) — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 19:32:00 +0000

Can I just say that I love my new apartment? OK, I love my new apartment. It's a tad bit smaller than my old place, but it's much more nicely laid out. It feels like I have actual rooms! A real living room! A true kitchen! A bathroom that guests don't have to traipse through my bedroom to get to! And, my true love, the sun room! (Even though I still haven't unpacked in there yet ... but I can't wait to get my bookcase set up AND a comfy chair and just truly enjoy that room the way sun rooms are meant to be enjoyed.)

To go with my adorable new place, I wanted a real phone. Not a cell phone, an actual phone with a land line number. I went to Target and bought one of those novelty phones that look old-fashioned. I set it up next to my bed, and pictured myself back in high school again, except this time I'm allowed to have a phone in my bedroom.

... one week later, and AT&T finally fixes my account so that I can actually use this wonderful phone. I get home last night with a note on my door instructing me to test out the line. Success! There is a dial tone. I immediately call my mom, give her my new number (probably a mistake, now she has TWO numbers to reach me at), and basically spend nearly twenty minutes gazing admiringly at my phone.

C'est parfait, non?

Yeah, not really. I got SIX phone calls last night, four being telemarketers. Two being the wrong number. After the third call I immediately go online and signed up for the do-not-call list. And today I've already answered a wrong number. My passionate love affair with Alexander G. Bell is quickly fading.

The one call that got me was the Georgia State Patrol.

"Hello?"

"Hey!"

" ... hello?" (Me thinking: Um, the only person who has this number right now is my mom ... not some stoner 30-something man.)

"Hey! How are you?"

" ... I'm sorry, can I help you?"

"This is Carly, right?"

" ... can I help you?"

And then I was told how grateful the GSP was for my contribution for bullet proof vests.

Now, I did NOT contribute to the GSP for ANYTHING, and it took me a few minutes to realize that what this stoner 30-something man meant was that the GSP would be grateful for my contribution that he was apparently so certain would happen. I'm sorry, but I do NOT give my credit card information to some random guy on the phone. Plus, I spend much of my time driving the speed limit to NOT have to pay anything to the GSP.

After four minutes of listening to this guy just not. shut. up. I finally said, "Sorry, not interested," and hung up.

Since when did telemarketers take on a level of familiarity, though? "Hey! How are you?" Sorry stoner 30-something man. My mom still says, "Hello Carly, this is your mother," so don't hold your breath expecting me to jump to that level of comfort just yet.

I still love my phone, just not quite as much. The honeymoon (that lasted about 30 minutes .... hmmmm ...) is over and now we're learning to co-exist.

All I know is that my ex the cell phone would have NEVER allowed some sales person to interrupt my viewing of 'So You Think You Can Dance.'

why this country is, in fact, sexist

noreply@blogger.com (Carly) — Wed, 04 Jun 2008 23:27:00 +0000

Now that Obama finally has the presidential bid for the Democratic party clinched, the country is now emphatically throwing its hands up in the air and crying, "Sexist? No, no, no, not us! We didn't like Hillary because she's Hillary! Not because she's a woman! So don't call us sexist. Uh-uh. No way."

Despite being a woman (and a self-proclaimed feminist), I have to say that I do think we are all sexist, at least, just a little bit. And it goes both ways. It's OK for women to have things like "I like my chocolate like I like my men: rich" plastered on magnets, and it's OK for men to whistle at women in the grocery store. And by 'OK,' I really mean that these things are NOT OK, but we still accept it as just a fact of life. I can't speak from a man's perspective, but as a woman with cleavage, I've come to expect to be ogled from time to time. Not right, not cool, not OK ... but accepted.

And it was OK for America to hold Hillary up to high standards ... ridiculous standards. She should have divorced Bill in the '90s. She feels like she's entitled to this position. Buy this Hillary Nutcracker for Christmas. The media choosing the least flattering pictures of her. Obama always smiling, Hillary always caught mid-blink, mid-frown. Hillary cried. (Never mind that there is footage of Obama and former candidate Romney wiping away tears, because women who cry are incapable of handling foreign policy.) No one is going to take a country with a woman president seriously. (Never mind all those other countries with women leaders, including ancient civilizations with matriarchies as opposed to patriarchies.) And, my favorite, courtesy of a local radio station ... no one can trust something that bleeds seven days out of a month and lives.

Do I think this is a representation of the feelings of individual men and women in America? No ... at least, not at face value. But I think people who say, "Oh, it's not sexism ... it's just Hillary" are hiding behind what they really think, because if you support Obama but are incredibly anti-Hillary, then you don't really know the differences between their policies (not many ... if any, which could be disputed.)

I didn't want to make this about McCain, but since I am on the subject of sexism ... let's not forget he's called his wife a cunt in public before. That story gets little play in the media. But this is an entirely different post (and yet still shows how it's OK to be sexist in this country.)

Which brings me to how the country is still a little bit racist (or a lot racist in my neck of the woods, where the Confederate flags still fly high.) There are those vehemently anti-Obama, but what is scarier are the people who are so afraid of being called out for NOT supporting an African American that they rally behind him because it's the hip thing to do. Because while it's still so obviously OK to be sexist in this country, it's so obviously NOT OK to be racist ... so when confronted with the choice and we had to choose, we chose to advance skin color over gender. (And yes, I do believe that NEITHER should matter, but let's not lie and pretend that they don't because they do, your gender and your skin color define you more than most people want to believe.)

That's fine. I think Obama is capable, at least, not any LESS capable than McCain (or the mess we've had in office for the past eight years.) He is inexperienced. That's the truth.

So answer me this: If Hillary came in with the experience (or lack thereof) Obama has ... would she have even made it this far?

My answer is no, probably not. She would've been patted on the head and told to skip along ... let the fat white men handle the big important world problems.

And that's why this IS about sexism ... and not just her last name. And the way America has handled this situation in 200-fuckin'-8 makes me incredibly hesitant to become a parent. How do you raise a son to respect women with such an openly hostile attitude against us?

Worse yet ... how do you raise a daughter?

why i will never shop at ikea again

noreply@blogger.com (Carly) — Sun, 01 Jun 2008 17:43:00 +0000

I've been to IKEA three times, including my trip there this morning.

The first two times, I was in absolute love, and here's why:

Trip #1: I bought nothing. It was a sightseeing expedition only.
Trip #2: I bought some furniture for my first apartment.

Shortly after trip #2, as I put together some of the aforementioned furniture, I realized that there's a reason IKEA is so cheap. You get what you pay for. The truth is that if you shell out some money, you can get really nice things at IKEA ... but you could also get the same things for the same price or even less at another place, and not have to assemble it yourself. But I bought the cheap shit, and therefore, I completely got what I paid for (and it only took three hours to assemble the two chairs and one coffee table.)

The two chairs have been thrown away since, as:
1) I have no room for them in my new place.
2) ... I never used them at the old place.

The coffee table is serving as a computer station.

... leading me to my trip today. I wanted either an actual computer desk OR a new coffee table (I actually like sitting on the floor, so I'm OK keeping the old table as a computer work station.) I also want a new bookcase.

I found some pieces of furniture that would've fit the bill, but:

1) I am driving all the way to Athens for a 14-hour work day tomorrow, and don't feel like spending my Sunday afternoon bitching to myself about putting everything together.
2) They were expensive.

Honestly? I can take $20, go to Goodwill, and get something way better that will last longer and looks lived in.

So I bought no furniture, but after wandering through the entire store (as they force you to), I had managed to pick up a:

1) Rug. (On sale from $19.99 to $9.99)
2) Wine glasses. (2 for $9)
3) Hangars. ($4, but they're the really nice wood ones)

Getting to self-serve, I noticed that they are now charging people $0.05 per bag ... let me reiterate, they are charging people for the privilege of carrying their already shitty shit OUT of the store.

It's ONLY a nickel, BUT:

1) I had spent the entire hour in IKEA with their dumbass sales people getting in my way with not ONE of them offering to help.
2) I was at the self-serve station, meaning I actually checked everything out on my own ... again, no interaction with ANY IKEA rep.
3) ... what the hell am I going to do with those ugly yellow/blue bags anyway?

I flopped the rug over my shoulder and carried the wine glasses and hangars out without the nickel bag.

Again, people. It's called Goodwill. The money goes to a good cause. IKEA is hailed as the cheap mecca of furniture, but Goodwill is cheaper. The furniture is usually already assembled (and not made of particle board!)

And I'm pretty sure the volunteers/workers at Goodwill will actually maybe say something to you, instead of an entirely isolated shopping experience.

Go back to Sweden.

P.S. I will say the GOOD thing about IKEA is its restaurant ... BUT I do feel a little apprehensive about paying only 99 cents for an entire meal, including eggs and meat. I've seen Supersize Me, and I've read Fast Food Nation ... if fast food restaurants are getting the cheap, nasty cuts of meat, how the hell can IKEA afford to sell steak for $1.99? Oh well, it's good for coffee and a cinnamon bun.

two months later and how have things changed

noreply@blogger.com (Carly) — Sat, 31 May 2008 23:50:00 +0000

Sorry for the lack of posting, but I have a couple of good reasons.

1) I have a new job. That's right, I left the newspaper biz and am now working in public relations. I'm still a writer, but with a much wider variety ... some days I'm stuck writing reports for the boss, other days I'm covering major events for one of our in-house magazines we produce, and other days I'm writing commercials and billboard advertisements. I feel like not only will this job allow me to expand my repertoire and to build my contact database, but it will also allow me a little bit more personal time to ... you guessed it ... work on my novel. I want to get it finished by September/October so I can spend the final days of 2008 looking desperately for a publisher.

2) I moved. With a new job comes a new place. I now work in Atlanta, 1.5 hours away from my home, my sanctuary. I miss the mountains. I'd rather take the smell of chicken shit in the air over the heaviness of the smog and pollution. I'd rather drive 90 on a curvy mountain road than go 10 in I-75 traffic. And I'd rather be close to my parents and my childhood friends. But unfortunately to have the career that I want, I'm just not going to find it in my comfort zone.

So I'm sad, but I also love, love, LOVE my new apartment. The buildings are approximately 30 years old, meaning they're a bit more sturdily built than the IKEA particle board creation of my old apartment. I have a sun room. It's a cute little place that fits my personality and my dog's personality perfectly.

Hopefully I can pick up a couple of freelance gigs along with getting my book published within a relatively short time frame (1-2 years) ... and then the goal will be to either start writing for television or more major publications.

So ... that's what has been new with me. I'll be posting more regularly. I'm still not sure if I want to take this blog through a more professional route or if I want to keep it strictly personal, but however it goes, I'm back and I'm writing.

Stay in touch.

so, here we are

noreply@blogger.com (Carly) — Thu, 27 Mar 2008 14:41:00 +0000

The end is near ... of March. Can you believe it?

I'm really having difficulty grasping the concept of time these days. My lease is up at the end of May, I pay rent next week, blah blah blah. My gym membership is over due. (Don't start freaking out ... yes, I pay all of my bills and yes, the ones that truly matter do get paid on time.)

That reminds me, if I want cable service over the weekend, I need to pay my cable bill. And God help anyone that gets in the way of enjoying me some "Best Week Ever." (Secret: I actually either delay my evening or call it short to watch either the 9 p.m. or 11 p.m. airings. Sad, much? But how else do I get my weekly dose of vapid gossip while still feeling OK with snickering along?)

I'm really beginning to feel restless and tired of my current daily surroundings. I'm beginning to realize that I'm a person who needs constant change and challenges to be truly content. So ... I can't (and I don't want to) say too much right now, but I am taking steps to begin changing the life I'm living, one little bit at a time.

Still planning that trip ... more to come on that later.

london calling

noreply@blogger.com (Carly) — Thu, 20 Mar 2008 15:04:00 +0000

There are a lot of things to do in London, things that can't even begin to truly be accomplished in a one week period of time. Of course, I have to do the touristy things during my first trip, but I also want to blend in and truly experience London like those who live there.

So here are some of my picks for what I definitely *have* to do:

1) Tower of London

2) Westminster Abbey

3) British Museum (Is this it? They have so many museums, I get them confused. I want to go see the Rosetta Stone.)

4) British Library

5) Buckingham Palace/Clarence House/Kensington Palace (Basically, where the royals live.)

6) Harrod's

7) National Gallery

8) Trafalgar Square (Notting Hill, anyone?)

9) Downing Street (If only Hugh Grant were the prime minister ... )

10) A walking tour of "Jack the Ripper's London"

11) London Eye (If I can conquer my fear of heights)

12) Shakespeare's Globe Theater (Along with catching one of the Bard's plays in action.)

13) London Dungeon

14) Natural History Museum (I know I am no longer five years old or Ross Gellar, but I do love me some dinosaur skeletons.)

15) Madame Tussaud's

I need more thoughts/suggestions.

opinion versus truth

noreply@blogger.com (Carly) — Wed, 19 Mar 2008 15:11:00 +0000

I'm either an extreme ball buster or just incredibly rough on people.

One of my friends (I guess we're friends?) is being completely used by a guy (who looks like Dopey from Snow White & the Seven Dwarves), and it's one of the most pathetic things I've seen. Here is this college educated woman who would rather run around, doe eyed, letting a man treat her like shit, than to be alone.

The thing is, I don't think she realizes he's treating her like shit. (I seriously think she wipes his ass for him, hence the whole "shit" thing being said twice.) She's in love. And she thinks he loves her (um, from what I've seen, he definitely doesn't.)

I'd rather have ridiculously high expectations that never get met - and yes, be single forever - then to be like that.

But that's just my opinion. Maybe the truth is that, if she's happy, then there's no problem with the way he treats her.

same place, different face

noreply@blogger.com (Carly) — Mon, 17 Mar 2008 19:18:00 +0000

I got a new bed this weekend! Woo-hoo!

I've been sleeping on a cot that was only supposed to tide me over for the first month or so of life in my new apartment. That was ten months ago, so I guess I felt it was about time.

It's a queen sized pillow top mattress, definitely softer than it is firm. I have a beautiful pale green and cream colored silk (or at least silk-like) bedding to go on top, only adding to its comfortable allure.

My dog also enjoys it greatly, as I learned last night when I woke up to the sound of his snoring at both 2:23 and 4:30 a.m.

Other than that, I organized my closet and bookshelf, cleaned the kitchen and bathroom and washed the windows. There was not much else to do on Saturday afternoon but watch as tornadoes ripped through Atlanta and other portions of north Georgia.

Tonight is a St. Patrick's Day celebration complete with traditional corned beef and cabbage with the Irish parents (well, mother), then on to Guinness with a few friends at a local "bar" (or rather, place that serves alcohol and pretends to be a bar) and then doing what us Irish do best ... passing out early.

Yes, I'm Irish ... at least, 50%. So I can truly celebrate this holiday. More so than the posers. :-)

How sad is this? I canceled dinner plans for Friday because ... get this ... The Sound of Music airs beginning at 7:30 on ABC Family. Words cannot express my love for this movie. I have it on VHS, but own no VHS player, so the movie sits at my parents' house. I should just suck it up and buy it on DVD, but alas ... I am cheap.

So I will do the socially unacceptable thing and not go out Friday night (you read correctly) in favor of putting my hair up in a scrunchy, ordering a pizza (large, thin crust, chicken with extra black olives from Pizza Hut), drinking a homemade pitcher of margaritas and watching my favorite movie from childhood.

All in my new bed. :-)

it's friday!

noreply@blogger.com (Carly) — Fri, 14 Mar 2008 15:40:00 +0000

Let's see, it was supposed to rain today with a high near 74. With that in mind, I wore my knee-length purple paisley dress with flat white sandals and short, fluttering sleeves.

It is raining, but is nowhere near 74 (probably closer to 50). I feel so let down (and cold).

I'm ready for tomorrow because I'm setting aside the entire weekend to redecorate my bedroom. Plans include purchasing a new bed (from frame to mattress set to linens), finding a vanity, and finding some sort of seating arrangement for the one corner near the window where I have my magazines and chick lit books stacked up. Organizing my closet (and dresser) are also on the list of priorities. How much of this will actually get done this weekend is still up in the air, but my hopes are high.

I'm just beginning to quite seriously plan for my upcoming London trip. I already know I'll be going during the darkest, dreariest month (January - the weather might not be pleasant, but $400 RT tickets can't be beat!), and I already have some idea where I'll be staying (a charming flat either near Buckingham or Kensington ... I get to choose, all for $100 an evening). I want to do the touristy scene, but am trying to find where the true Londoners go.

My only fear is that I'll fall desperately in love - with either the city or a British man with Hugh Grant's accent and Colin Firth's looks - and that once my "vacation" is over, life will always be a bit dimmer.

Depressing, non?

So when I take a lunch break (when I wrap up this post, actually), I'm heading to the library for further reading material. And that is how I shall spend this weekend ... decorating the bedroom and planning a great trip.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

soul silence

noreply@blogger.com (Carly) — Thu, 13 Mar 2008 17:18:00 +0000

Spring is only a few short days away. It's currently sunny, near 70 degrees. And it was snowing, in the low-30s, with a dusting accumulating on the weary plants, only five days ago.

As I walked the dog in last weekend's late snow, I realized how walking in the snow is one of the most beautiful, reflective things in life. Snow was pounding the ground without making a sound. It stuck to my hair, clothes, eyelashes without weighing me down. If it had been a bit warmer and the snow had been rain, no one would've wanted to go out in it. But with the snow I slowed my gait, walked the dog around the building not once or twice but three times. When we got back inside I ran to the window, both entranced and exasperated by the ambiguity of it all, touching my fingertips to the screen to feel the icy cold shoot through my wrist.

Isn't that life? When it snows, when the timing is right, everything is perfect. When it rains, when the timing is just a bit off, we either don't pay attention or become irritated that our lives are inconvenienced by just a bit of wet.

The only time I like rain is when it's at night. I go to bed early, stare at the ceiling and let the sound drown out my thoughts. Only when it's convenient.

not so much

noreply@blogger.com (Carly) — Mon, 10 Mar 2008 13:18:00 +0000

This is my "first post," but not technically. See, I had another blog:

pinkslipsinparadise.blogspot.com

However, I can't seem to get the perfect User Name and Password combination to log in and resurrect that particular blog. So now I've found myself in this new home.

There will be an actual blog post coming later. For now, I have to go and be productive at the job that pays the bills.