Blogthings

I am currently obsessed with Blogthings. You know, those fun little surveys that I give entirely too much credence to? This is the Web version of a psychic 900 number, I swear. Ooo, I wonder what kind of kisser I am? Or what Goddess am I? (for the record, I'm Psyche). I do not ruin relationships with men (I choose to ignore that whole twice-divorced thing), I am a low maintenence woman, a passionate kisser, and a good girlfriend (still waiting for people to catch on to that one) whose power element is water( a fact I find mildly unnerving as my astrological sign is fire)and should be living in 1953. My true love will find me eventually, and it would seem he'll be an earth sign. I'm also ready to get married, apparently, though in no hurry. And I'm a chocolate mocha and orange cheesecake. Who knew?

You Are Psyche!

Eternally in search of purpose and insight. You're curious and creative with a total sense of wonder. Totally empathetic, you pick up on other's moods easily. Just be sure to pamper yourself as well!

What Goddess Are You?

You Are a Dreaming Soul

Your vivid emotions and imagination takes you away from this world So much so that you tend to live in your head most of the time You have great dreams and ambitions that could be the envy of all... But for you, following through with your dreams is a bit difficult You are charming, endearing, and people tend to love you. Forgiving and tolerant, you see the world through rose colored glasses. Underneath it all, you have a ton of passion that you hide from others. Always hopeful, you tend to expect positive outcomes in your life. Souls you are most compatible with: Newborn Soul, Prophet Soul, and Traveler Soul

What Kind of Soul Are You?

Take the Quiz here!

:: E M M A ::

You are Emma Woodhouse of Emma! You like being the queen of your social circle (small and provincial as it may be), and feel it's your duty to help those less influential than you. You often meddle in the affairs of others, though you do it with a pure heart. You are often deluded in your flights of fancy, but your good intentions and creative spirit make you someone anyone could like.


Well, it took me a minute to get used to this, but yeah. That's me.

The Sound of My Fury

I cannot believe what I have just received in the mail today. Somehow I was unaware that Premiere magazine is no more. And as I have a subscription through the end of next year, they are foisting me off onto US Weekly. I'm getting a tabloid instead of a real magazine about movies! The least they could have done was foist me off within the same genre! I don't care about the celebrities, except when it comes to what they have coming out in the nearest cineplex! I don't care who's dating whom, who's cheating on whom, who's making out with whom, who's in rehab again, IT'S ALL NOTHING BUT STUPID RIDICULOUSNESS. I just want to know about movies, okay? Is that too much to ask? And I liked doing it on paper. I liked being able to take it with me if I felt like it. I liked the pretty pictures and the fun articles. NOW what do I do? Huh?! HUH?!?!?
Where can I go to find information about movies BEFORE they hit the theaters? I don't want to hear critical review. Frankly, I have little use for critics. I canmake up my own mind about what I like. Leah Rosen is the movie critic for People magazine and she is my polar opposite in movie taste. So if she loves it< I can pretty much guarantee I'll hate it and vice versa. I just want an overview of the storylines and some fun stories from on-set. I don't think that's asking too much. And I am going to miss Libby Gelman-Waxner's column like you wouldn't believe.

I'm in mourning. It's just not right.

I hate shopping.....

I've always thought that shopping must be easier, and therefore more enjoyable(on pretty much every level), when you are slim.

I've changed my mind.

I am, of course, nothing resembling slim at the moment, but this is irrelevant. I have done some looking into my past and I have realized that even when I was slim, I hated shopping. I walk into a retail clothing establishment and every ounce of joy and energy drains from my body. Within 15 minutes, my head feels like it wants to float to the ceiling or sink down through my spinal cord. My eyes feel like they're about 3 sizes too big for their sockets and that said sockets are lined with sand. If I didn't know it wasn't possible, I'd swear I was allergic to shopping. I should make clear that this reaction is largely engendered by shopping for clothing. I can spend an entire day in Borders, Barnes and Noble, Hastings, even Office Depot and I'm just great. Maybe if clothes came with a back pocket blurb (like on a book jacket) that let me know wether I would enjoy this item of clothing, it'd be a little less pressure-filled. But no. I have to go remove my clothes so many times my hair looks like the perpetual victim of an electrical storm, while I try to squeeze my uncooperative body with it's lumps of varying sizes and shapes into clothing that makes few allowances for said lumps.


And another thing..........


Do market analysts never figure out that flourescent lighting is perhaps the most depression-inducing lighting on the face of the planet today? Forget Prozac and all those other drugs. BAN FLOURESCENT LIGHTING! Do you know anyone who looks good in it's glare? You could put the most beautiful person on the planet under those lights(that being subjective, I'll let you fill in the blank for who you think that should be) and they would still look sallow-skinned and ill. Then you add to that fact that the harsh lighting is way overhead. Anyone who's taken any art classes knows what kind of hideously unflattering shadows that casts. Even if you have but the tiniest pooch of a belly, overhead lighting will maximize it. Shadows under your eyes? Worse! Bags under your eyes? Tripled in size! The shadow cast by multiple chins could cause a solar eclipse. It's just not right. I want new clothes because I already feel awful in my old ones. If you want me to frequent your establishment, make sure I feel good being there! Make sure the music playing doesn't sound like it comes from a video game, that the lighting at least makes an attempt to be kind, and that the prices don't make me want to swallow my tongue.

That's all I'm saying.

Well, here I am. Dragged into the new millenium by my sister who is, as ever, the queen of all things Cool and Cutting Edge. Of course, that's pretty much how I progress in all matters technical. Someone has to drag me into the present. I mean, I just barely bought my first cell phone, and even now I'm not really sure I want it. I keep it off most of the time anyway, so why have it?! Oh, I know, I know. It's for "emergencies". I just never want to reach a day when my definition of an emergency changes just because I have the ability to communicate it to another person.

But that aside, I'm a little leery of this whole blogging thing. I have no problem talking. None. It's the talking even when I've run out of anything to say. It's the question of whether or not anyone else will actually be interested in what I have to say. Every writer's greatest fear; that I will pour out my soul and hear only the applause of the crickets. But here goes anyway. Who knows? Maybe the cricket market is vastly under-represented, and I'll find my niche there.