November 1st: I am thankful for being part of a family full of storytellers. Even in our darkest moments, we can help each other smile.
November 2nd: I am thankful for my rockstar coworkers at Infuz (past and present). The business stuff is just the cusp of what I’ve learned from them, and many have become my closest friends.
November 3rd: I am thankful for being a two-parent household. The fun stuff is better when you have someone to share it with. The bad stuff is easier when there’s someone to shoulder the burden. Also, when you have too much whiskey, someone can manage the kids while you suffer your consequences.
People do that thing in November where they blog/tweet/post one thing every day that they are thankful for. I’m doing it, too.
My tumblr feed is full of fans with enough free time to create/curate all sorts of eyecandy related to my favorite tv shows, movies, books, etc. It’s awesome. …except when I get behind because I don’t have the capacity to watch most shows live. What do you do when you want to spend some time on tumblr, but you want to avoid spoilers? Continue reading How to Handle Spoilers on Tumblr
So there’s this show. You may have heard about it. It’s called True Blood. It’s loosely based on characters created for a series of mystery novels, but as the differences grow stronger every season, it’s hardly fair to say they are related. What they do have in common is a slow slide from “oh, this is pretty entertaining” to “wow, this isn’t worth my time.”
At least, the books were slow to decline. Continue reading The Trouble with True Blood
How I get dressed for work
- Choose an outfit.
- Search for shoes.
- Find a pair of shoes that don’t match, but that I want to wear.
- Try to justify wearing them anyway.
- Fester and plot while doing hair and makeup.
- Get dressed.
- Pick a completely new outfit.
- Get dressed again.
At the start of 2011 I made myself a promise. I promised I was going to stop defining myself by who I thought I was when I was 15. that person was largely defined by who people (well meaning in many cases but often malicious) told me I could and could not be. I learned from them. I internalized and exaggerated their ideas. I was “defined” at 15 and never looked back.
One of the major things I “knew” was that I wasn’t the sort of girl who sang solos in choir. No matter how brave I was in the group, how boldly I sang when nobody could hear. I was the girl who choked at auditions and never got the part. And if some kind director wanted to reward my earnestness, I was guaranteed to fail in performance.
I’ve done my best to defeat that definition. I started auditioning, and choking. Soon, however, I found a niche. I could belt out a line from the safety of the chorus that was over before it began. I could force out my gutsy “chest voice” through my fears.
I started tearing away at that definition, but that wasn’t enough. The “pretty” solo still alluded me. I still choked when it came time for Latin or anything else I knew would result in standing alone at the front of the chorus with an untested mic and a voice that warbled when it was nervous.
Tonight, I’m no longer that girl, either. In about an hour I’m going to stand in front of my chorus and kick off our summer concert with a “pretty” solo. If I ever suspected I would have been quality enough at the audition to get it, I never would have dared. I was still working on not botching the audition a few weeks ago.
But that was then.