A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words

When my brothers and I were growing up my mother had certain sayings for various occasions … “I’m not you’re personal slave,” when we left a mess for her to clean up; “Would it have killed you to pick up a phone?” when we came home late without calling; “I guess I just can’t have nice things,” when once of us broke something that she considered good rather than everyday.

But while our breakage of one of her complete collection of NFL glasses acquired after a year of fill-ups at the neighborhood ARCO station was an accident, there are those people who for reasons I am unable to fathom take perverse pleasure in deliberately disallowing others to have nice things.

This is the situation in which I find myself.

It seems I’ve picked up a parasite.  Not a tapeworm or a bot fly or some other such wee beastie that Trojan Horses its way into your body, coursing through your blood stream like it’s on a flume ride until reaching your brain which it uses as its own personal hatchery, releasing millions of its demon spawn to short circuit your neurons and drive you slowly insane, but an insidious creature none the less.

Mine is of the human variety, and rather than invading my organs, blood or brain she is determined to infiltrate my life.  The whole story isn’t important (and frankly it’s too long to tell), but just to be clear this isn’t a “someone I’m just not interested in dating” situation, this is a bonafide stalker situation.  In fact, after learning her real name (and she uses many) I found another woman’s blog post from 2008 who’d also been victimized by my “obsessed fan.”

To the best of my knowledge she no longer knows where I live, so I believe I’ve blocked any physical access she has to me.  Unfortunately, before I became aware of her true nature we had a brief friendship on Facebook and I gave her the URL for my blog.  She still sometimes finds ways to access my Facebook page, contacts my friends and family and pulls various stunts to try to gain my attention.  She also checks my blog a couple of times a day to see if I’ve posted anything new; which is why I haven’t lately.  She lurks.  I know she’s out there, waiting to pounce on any little tidbit, some little crumb of information about me.  And all I want is to disappear, become unable for her to find.

Aside from not wanting her to have access to my life, she more than anyone else least deserves to enjoy my stellar writing, sharp wit, charming personality and deep insights.  So it’s with resentment, disappointment, a heavy heart and a measure of satisfaction at cutting off yet another avenue of access that I’ve decided to abandon my blog.  So to those of you who read me (except, y’know …) and especially those who offered their support during my brief comeback tour, I just wanted to say thank you and let you know that all is still on the right track.  I’ll miss this and miss all of you.  It’s been a pleasure and I wish you all the best!

Oh yeah! The picture, almost forgot …

The Versatile Blogger

The First Rule Of Versatile Blogger Is: You Do Not Talk About Versatile Blogger.  The second rule of Versatile Blogger is: you DO NOT talk about Versatile Blogger!

I discovered a couple of days ago that I’d been nominated for The Versatile Blogger Award by sandylikeabeach. I’m thrilled that anyone even reads me, so to be nominated is beyond flattering. My appreciation for the recognition is truly sincere.

In addition to thanking and linking back to the person who nominated me, I am supposed to nominate fifteen other bloggers and share seven things about myself. Having just moved to WordPress a couple of months ago from another site I haven’t had time to acquaint myself with as many blogs as I eventually hope to. So I’m sure that some of these blogs may have been nominated in the past, but since there doesn’t seem to be a rules prohibiting that and since I like them, I’m not going to worry too much about it.

I also know that some people are rather anti-award and write for the sake of writing and not because they want to compete with other writers. To them I have only this to say: Tough shit! There’s something about your blog, whether it’s what you say or how you say it, that got my attention. This nomination is strictly in recognition of your talent, not because I think you’re in it for the glory. Someone likes you. Deal with it.

Tantrum, Interrupted – Me, my cats, the garden, a banjo, and borderline personality disorder.

Den of Iniquity – One mans random shoutings against the world.

H.E. Ellis – A thirty-something mother of three living in a farmhouse in New Hampshire. She is not Jodi Picoult

A Woman’s Guide to Women: A Blog For Men – About chicks. By a chick.

itsallabitfrankspencer – Just another WordPress.com site

Ashley Jillian – Need a random pop-culture reference fix?

BrainRants – This site uses only free-range, organic electrons.

Debating Dykes – Special Lady Friends Who Like to Argue…A Lot

Trask Avenue – This, that and most definitely the other.

Bubbles. Deux – Starting of a brand new day.

Sherbert Bomb – A fantasy adventure about girls and the world. Sometimes true, more often made up, always unreal.

Ohmygawd, just do what I say! – Two chicks’ musings on life, family, & friendship

Does Writing Excuse Watching? – mostly posts about anything that takes less than ten or fifteen minutes to write

Your Pal Jason – The best (imaginary) friend you could ask for.

bestbathroombooks – because laughter is the best laxative

And finally, here are seven things about me that you may not know and probably aren’t interested in:

1. I have a buttload of power tools and am resigned to eventually losing a couple of fingers to my table-saw or chop-saw. It’s really only a matter of time.

2. I am obsessed with BBQ and had a smoker the size of a small refrigerator freighted in from Louisiana when I couldn’t find a big enough one in California.

3. I’ve collected knives since I was in grade school. I have over 100 and always carry one with me.

4. I have a fear of being sent to prison for a crime I didn’t commit.

5. I can’t dance … at all.

6. I have an encyclopedic knowledge of serial killers. They fascinate and terrify me.

7. I’ve broken five bones … all on my right side and all from doing something stupid.

Whew! sandylikeabeach was right: the linking is the hardest part!

The Notebook

In a recent post Kidfos mentioned how much he likes his new Moleskine notebook. He bought it based on a recommendation from Temper (aka Shortstuff) who became a fan after I sent her one a while back. Bubbles is also a fan of these awesome notebooks, but I’m not sure if she’s a link in the chain of who told who or if she was introduced by an outside party. It’s all a bit like that commercial from back in the 80s where Heather Locklear told two friends about Faberge Organics Shampoo and they told two friends and they told two friends and so on and so on and so on …

According to the little multi-fold pamphlet slipped into the accordion pocket inside the back cover, these legendary notebooks have been “used by European artists and thinkers for the past two centuries, from Van Gogh to Picasso, from Ernest Hemingway to Bruce Chatwin. This trusty, pocket-size travel companion held sketches, notes, stories and ideas before they were turned into famous images or pages of beloved books.”

Some people can pick up whatever notebook, diary or memo pad is handy and happily pour out their thoughts or sketch out an idea for their next great project or work of art. I am not one of them. I might spend hours at various bookstores perusing their selection for the perfect journal only to find when I started using it that it doesn’t lay flat enough when open making the right-hand pages uncomfortable to write on or that most inks bled through because the paper is cheap and porous. The defect or flaw isn’t always something I can easily identify. Like a date who’s attractive and personable enough but whom you’re just not excited about seeing again, the chemistry just isn’t there.

My attraction to the Moleskine was instant and powerful. The minute I held one I knew I’d let it fuck me on the first date. I love everything about these notebooks, from the way they feel in my hands – comfortable, like a well-balanced hand tool – to the way my pen glides over the smooth, satiny pages. The size is perfect for tossing into my backpack and it weighs enough to give it solid, quality feel but not so much that it’s a chore to tote around. It doesn’t have so many pages that the idea of filling one up is overwhelming nor so few that you’re always buying new ones. The line spacing on the perfect number of pages is tight, but not cramped … and not that wide-ruled crap that makes me feel like I need the big, loopy handwriting of a 12 year old girl fill all the space I’m given.

But lest you think me shallow, my love for Moleskines goes beyond the physical (although, like Kidfos said – and I’m paraphrasing here – they are some sexy-ass muthafukken notebooks). You can feel their rich history and a sense of connection to that past. You’re not just writing in a notebook, you’re writing in the same notebook that Hemingway preferred. Fucking Hemingway, man!! How awesome is that?

I also write on a laptop. I’m doing it right now. But if I’m sitting in a Starbucks and pull out my Moleskine to jot down a few deep thoughts or brilliant ideas, I can’t help feeling superior to, and pity for, all the poor schmoes around me pecking away on their laptops. Obviously they are unaware that the preferred tool of real writers like Ernie H. and me (and Kidfos, Temper and Bubbles, of course) comes with neither a power-cord nor the ability to erase, lose or corrupt everything you just spent the last nineteen hours working on. Your work will always be safe and protected between the elastic-banded covers of your reliable and much loved Moleskine.

I think writers fall into two major types: 1) those who will immediately run out to find and fondle a Moleskine notebook after reading this, and 2) those for whom it’s strictly about what they write and not where they write it. Which type are you?

Peace
&
Papa was a rolling stone

P.S. Kidfos also spoke very highly of the Sharpie fine-point marker so I had to give it a try. I’m happy to say I concur with his findings, it is one damn fine writing implement. I don’t know you well Kidfos (and by ‘well’ I mean ‘at all’), but I know you love at least three of the same things I do: the world’s most perfect notebook, the amazing pen that never bleeds through a page and Miss Shorty McShortpants. Obviously you’re a man of extraordinary intelligence and exquisite taste. I salute you, sir!