tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40321723822009766202024-03-05T17:45:55.733-08:00good ghost.Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02759675746707403501noreply@blogger.comBlogger306125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4032172382200976620.post-39265750177847591172015-02-16T10:44:00.000-08:002015-02-16T10:44:01.759-08:00We Are Young<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Simon and Graham. 3 years old, 20 months old. Simon won't eat anything, Graham will eat everything. They love <i>Pingu </i>and <i>Room on the Broom</i>. Graham will fall asleep anywhere, Simon tries to bargain before bed. Simon makes us all hold hands when we say prayer. Graham loves to sing and dance with this <span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">↑ </span>hat and a wooden dowel rod for a cane.They refer to all dogs as "Buddy" because that's what Grandma's dog is called. They call Seve's school "Dada's house." They collectively love slides, trains, whistles, and flashlights. And books about slides, trains, whistles, and flashlights. They wrestle, they "help" make cookies. Simon's showing signs of being a germaphobe, Graham's kind of a slob. They're both often sporting temporary tattoos on their arms and legs. And one time, on Simon's nose. It was a bird, I let him keep it on for four days, including church. They wear matching skull and crossbones bow ties every week.<br />
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I love these two.Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02759675746707403501noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4032172382200976620.post-51395275281673788762015-02-11T13:48:00.000-08:002015-02-11T13:48:29.105-08:00Lighter Still<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I got a really kind comment from <a href="http://shewriteshome.blogspot.com/">Kate</a> the other day asking me to blog again. I'd been out of the blogosphere for so long that I didn't even know they'd adopted a sweet little girl. Congratulations, Kate & Landon & Lula!<br />
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For the sake of diving back in, I thought I'd start with an obvious and most recent development: I, uh, went blonde? I'd been dying my hair black for so long that I decided I wanted a change. A BIG change. And the process to get this light was really awful.<br />
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But these pictures kind of make me feel better about it.<br />
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I fried my ends after doing ombre for so long that I just had to chop them off. And there's still a lot of warm streaks in my hair, and then some blue/green streaks from where the ash toner kind of bit right in and wouldn't let go. Because I wasn't trying to go blonde, but that silver/grey that's really hip right now. That's why my roots look grey. They were the only success. But um, I like it? Question mark? This happened only three days so I'm still kind of reeling from how much I hate bleach. I <i>hate</i> bleach. And if I truly want to achieve my silver end goal, more bleach needs to get involved, but . . . no. No more.<br />
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Other life updates:<br />
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We bought a house!<br />
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The children have continued to age and grow and poop!<br />
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I'm now the RS Secretary!<br />
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Seve shaved his beard and grew it back in again!<br />
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The new Blonde Redhead album is so good!<br />
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The film adaptation for <i>Horns </i>was so bad! So bad!<br />
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And, well, I'll be blogging again for a bit. It feels good to blog right now.Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02759675746707403501noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4032172382200976620.post-69208254594301460632014-05-14T10:34:00.002-07:002014-05-14T10:34:16.914-07:00Correct Good Ghost Feed<div>
Since separating good ghost & julesisaacs.com into my blog and design portfolio respectively, I'm worried people following good ghost are instead receiving feed updates from julesisaacs.com . . . meaning you're getting all the "posts" from my design gallery. To get the correct feed for good ghost, just copy and paste this feed into your reader of choice (I use Feedly):</div>
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http://goodghost.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss</div>
<br />Just pop it in wherever your "add content" button is.<div>
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Thanks!<br />Jules<br /><br /></div>
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Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02759675746707403501noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4032172382200976620.post-69688643745195581752014-05-12T12:45:00.001-07:002014-05-14T10:35:07.323-07:00Binge Writing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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For Camp NaNoWriMo I started out with serious ambitions to finish/polish/whatever <i>The Book Smart Wolf </i>but I've been working on that book for so long I'm a little burnt out on it. A lot of burnt out on it. So when April 1st hit I found myself free-writing an idea set in an alternate 1950s where we still have iPhones & Google, Kayne West & Katy Perry. It was about a greaser and soc who fall in love amidst being pursued by a demon. Which sounds crazy and <i>paranormal romance</i> shelf at B&N, I know, but the plot wasn't so much about the demon or modern technology as it was about these two kids overcoming their own personal demons and faults. The demon was metaphorical but also real? It's much more normal than I'm describing, but I really don't know how to normalize its plot for a blog post description.<br />
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<i>Demon Days</i> was an interesting exercise in just <i>letting go</i> and writing what I wanted to write about, and I'm happier with this product than anything else I've ever written before. I wrote it for me and no one else, which was refreshing. When writing I normally have my own invisible demon nearby, being all super judgey about my plot points and rude about my writing style. But without that demon to pester me, and only myself to please, the writing came swiftly and easily, like splurging in words I always wanted to type but found myself too embarrassed to. In April I binged on all those words, and I came away fat with a funny kind of happiness I've yet to be familiar with.Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02759675746707403501noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4032172382200976620.post-58753194391328473832014-05-08T13:56:00.000-07:002014-05-14T10:36:24.952-07:00Separated<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Changes! Changes! Changes 'round here! I officially separated "julesisaacs.com" from good ghost, so now one is a "professional design website" and the other is my personal blog, as it's always been, but now I don't feel so bad about bloating it with photos of my kids. And now I'm able to rant about stuff without the fear of a client raising their eyebrows. Not sure why I didn't just keep the two separate in the first place. Probably because I'm not really a pro-freelancer so much as I'm a "yeah, uh, I can design that, um, here's my web site? Oh, you just want me to maintain your Facebook? Yeah, uh, that's not really what I do . . . but banner ads, yeah, I do that . . ." kind of freelancer.<br />
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Maybe this means I'll post more often? Maybe? We'll see. I should be a more courteous blogger and leave comments on YOUR posts rather than fret over mine . . . I promise I'm reading, I've just become a lurker rather than a commenter these days.<br />
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If any of you followed good ghost or julesisaacs.com through Feedly, go ahead and unsubscribe from julesisaacs.com, because that post feed is now used as my gallery. All blog posts will now spew forth from this part of the internet. Hurrah.</div>
Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02759675746707403501noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4032172382200976620.post-31427770706424260242014-04-04T09:00:00.000-07:002014-04-04T17:22:34.070-07:00Indoorsy Type<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Seve and I built this cool little tent together for Camp NaNoWriMo, the spring equivalent to the event held in November. Seve does Nano with his creative writing class each semester, and though the November event is well known with plenty of library and bookstore participation, Camp NaNo isn't as riddled with local events. Any, actually. So Seve and I make our own! At the kick-off party we set up an inflatable campfire, projected a looping video of a full moon onto the chalkboard, played some ambient forest noises over the speakers, and hid a microwave in the tent so we could "roast" hot dogs and marshmallows. It was so fun I got zero writing done! Yeah!<br />
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But when the tent's at home, I cuddle up and write to my heart's content. The Camp Nano event I'm looking the most forward to this year? April 15th is the lunar eclipse and we've rented out a cool backyard venue to write by the light of the blood red moon. <i>so awesome omg can't wait can't wait</i>Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02759675746707403501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4032172382200976620.post-89247083372254105472014-04-01T09:00:00.000-07:002014-04-01T09:00:09.779-07:00Guess what<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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EXCEPT THAT IT'S NOT. HA! APRIL FOOL'S!Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02759675746707403501noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4032172382200976620.post-70953282330838037612014-03-20T09:00:00.001-07:002014-03-20T09:00:04.835-07:00Guest Post: Thousands of Hours<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>Today I have a guest post from my good friend, Liz Chapman! She's an actress and a poet and several other things, but most importantly a good friend to me and Seve. I've asked her to muse about the craft of writing. You can check out her blog <a href="http://dinosaursarefun.blogspot.com/">here</a>.</i></div>
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My mom recalls the first word I ever wrote. “Snake.” I’m not sure what sort of psychological implications that particular word has, but I like that my mom remembers that. (She does not, however, remember the first word I ever said.) I think I’ve always been a writer. I hate phrases like that. “I’ve always been a writer.” It’s absurdly pretentious. But I guess it’s true. I didn’t realize it until 8th grade or so, and even then, it wasn’t some earth-shattering realization. The fact that I wrote things didn’t seem noteworthy to me. It was just something I did. <br />
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The earth-shattering realization I’m having now is that if I have any sort of aptitude for writing, it’s more because of repetition and practice than any kind of innate talent. I don’t have an enormous publication record that started when I was 11 or something crazy like that. But I have been keeping regular journals since 8th grade. I’ve been blogging for around ten years. My minor in college was English. And after doing something fairly regularly for long enough, you start to figure it out. <br />
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Have you heard of the “10,000 hour rule”? Malcolm Gladwell popularized the idea in his book, “Outliers.” The basic idea is that if you spend 10,000 hours doing something, you become an expert at it. I think the truth is probably more complicated, but I think I agree that time equals expertise. <br />
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Take Ray Bradbury. When Ray Bradbury was a kid, he used to hang around traveling carnivals and circuses that came into town. When he was 12, the carnival magician, Mr. Electrico, touched Bradbury with his sword and said, “Live forever!” Bradbury said later, “I decided that was the greatest idea I had ever heard. I started writing every day. I never stopped.”<br />
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And when he says he started writing every day, he meant it. He wrote 1,000 words a day. Every day. And he says that for the first ten years, most of it was pretty bad. And then, when he was 22, he sat at the typewriter and wrote out the short story “The Lake.” It took him two hours, and when he finished, he said that he was sitting at the typewriter, weeping, because he realized that he “had turned a corner in becoming a writer.” He said he realized that he’d written the first short story that was really good. After ten years, a thousand words a day of writing. <br />
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Here’s what’s truly beautiful about that story. He persisted in doing something every single day for ten years before he felt he was any good at it. That’s amazing. Maybe I’m just a crappy person, but I can’t think of a single thing I’d be willing to do for ten years without being good at it. I’m too impatient. I think I’d give up after a few months. My track record of trying new things has a pretty steady pattern: If I’m okay at it, if I can figure it out, I keep going. If I suck, I tend to give it up. <br />
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But I’m learning a valuable lesson from Bradbury, and from Tina Fey, and from fellow English teachers, and from every other talented and accomplished person that I admire. That for the majority of people, there’s this uncomfortable beginning and middle stage of just not being any good. You may have one glimmering tiny moment of success, and if you’re passionate about something, it can sustain you for a year. And then you’ll have another little glimpse of success, and that will carry you through another year. And then, after a long while, you’ll turn a corner, and the moments of accomplishment will happen more often, with fewer times of not being any good. <br />
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I think it will always be difficult. Writing, I mean. Or acting. Or teaching. Or anything. I don’t think you ever get to a point where it’s easy. But if you do something enough, you’ll get to a point where, like Ray Bradbury, you look back and realize that you’ve written 27 novels, and 600+ short stories, and that most of them are pretty good. <br />
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Or maybe you’ll just start with a guest blog post or two. <br />
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(Thanks to the Ray Bradbury website and Random House Audible’s audiobook “The Fantastic Tales of Ray Bradbury” for the stories!)Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02759675746707403501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4032172382200976620.post-39127036391260331152014-03-13T09:00:00.000-07:002014-03-13T09:00:02.344-07:00Voices<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Nathan Bransford had a really great post recently on <a href="http://blog.nathanbransford.com/2014/03/the-temptation-of-shutting-down-your.html">the temptation of abandoning social media</a>. I've only done so when pregnant, because . . . you know. I threw up a lot and got reclusive and kind of crazy. But I've been tempted to leave again, because writing a book is kind of like being pregnant, the throwing up and the reclusiveness and the crazy.<br />
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I've been thinking about the culture with each account, though. My <i><a href="http://www.julesisaacs.com/2014/02/art-artist.html">Art & Artist</a></i> post was more in the vein of Tumblr, where we embrace righteous anger and are unabashed in our confessions of depression and anxiety and Netflix bingeing. Why I posted it to Blogspot, where we apologize before describing human emotions, I'm not sure. Probably because I don't have a wide audience. I know all of you personally and consider you my friends, where on Tumblr they're all my friends too, but I've never seen the faces behind the avatars. And Twitter's more like one big cafeteria where we all get to together to tell jokes and engage in that strange mix of cynicism and kindness.<br />
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But Tumblr allows itself to be honest and gritty because the culture is all about anonymity, and never handing out your handle to your in-real-life friends (which I've done . . . for some reason). Blogspot (or regular blogs in general) are more about marketing and promotion of your real self, and therefore require highlighting and censoring where appropriate. You have to choose your voice carefully, depending on which venue you choose. And you know what kind of voices to expect from each venue.<br />
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But sometimes the voices can be so overwhelming. The internet is just <i>so many voices</i>, and even when I agree with the anger, or join with the laughter, sometimes by the end of the day I feel jumbled and confused and can't find where I am mentally. And I still don't know where to add my voice, despite the years I've had to choose. <i>Where can I discuss my frustration over my faith while having it still be understood that I'm faithful? Where can I post about my children and marriage without feeling like I'm revealing too much of my personal life? Where can I post about fear and anxieties without inviting eye rolls or cruel comments?</i><br />
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I don't know, man, I don't know. Sometimes I'm tempted to turn this blog into a cold, professional website where all the posts are gone and it's simply a basic listing of who I am, in the impersonal manner, and what I offer, and where you can contact me. And to dive into an anonymous Tumblr to satisfy that weird desire to publish my thoughts. I don't know, man, I don't know.<br />
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St. Vincent & David Byrne have a song called "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lBY39qMasAc&feature=kp">I Should Watch TV</a>" where the opening lyrics are:<br />
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<i>I used to think that I should watch TV<br />I used to think that it was good for me<br />Wanted to know what folks were thinking<br />To understand the land I live in<br />And I would lose myself<br />And it would set me free</i><div>
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<i>This is the place where common people go<br />A global franchise; one department store<br />Yes, there were many awkward moments<br />I had to do some self-atonement<br />Well, if I opened up<br />Well, it would set me free</i><div>
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I feel this way about the internet, but the difference is that TV is one sided; it talks at you whereas the internet engages with you. It's the screen you reach through and other human beings reach back in return. With that knowledge I don't want to give in to shyness or fear, I want to keep reaching.</div>
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<i>It's good to lose and it's good to win sometimes<br />It's good to die and it's good be alive<br />Maybe someday we can stand together<br />Not afraid of what we see<br />Maybe someday understand them better<br />The weird things inside of me</i>Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02759675746707403501noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4032172382200976620.post-14689091754307768602014-03-04T09:00:00.000-08:002014-03-04T09:00:02.706-08:00The Dire Dash<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I came across this photo while searching through some folders today. This photo was taken in a moment of desperation, while I was crying in a borrowed car.<br />
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This was just after I had dropped my camera during a wedding photo shoot. My grandfather had lent me a neck strap because I didn't own one at the time, and I soon found out that the strap was faulty. I had been standing on a chair trying to get an interesting shot of the bride having her make-up done when my camera fell from my neck and onto the floor with a thud. <i>At least it didn't land on the bride, </i>I remember thinking. But when I picked up the camera to continue, my lens wouldn't focus, the shutter speed wouldn't adjust, and I couldn't access the menu. The camera I had saved up for for a year was suddenly rendered useless, and I didn't have the means to repair it, much less get a new one. The next day I was scheduled to fly out for the sole purpose of taking my mother's author photo.<br />
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My uncle, who had invited me to shoot the wedding with him, must have seen all this cross my face. He tried to console me saying he'd been there before when he dropped his Canon in a stream once. He immediately offered me his car keys and told me to drive to a local camera shop to have it checked out, see just what the damage was, and get an estimate. Perhaps the mirror just needed to be adjusted, perhaps it was a simple fix.<br />
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I drove around Portland lost, not because I didn't know the streets but because I just couldn't get myself together. So much more had happened that day to lead up to that awful moment. Seve and I stressed about our finances, stressed about finding a job. Stressed about leaving Simon behind for the day for a photo shoot none of us were being paid for. Stressed over a thousand other things I can't even remember now.<br />
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I eventually found the camera shop where a kind man in a paisley shirt named Tom fiddled with my camera only to tell me he wasn't sure what was wrong, not specifically, but something on the interior must have been damaged and it would likely be cheaper to replace the camera than repair it. An estimate of about $1000 was given to open the body and find out for sure. Having held my emotions in check up until this point, I headed back out to the car where I locked myself inside. Cried. Felt stupid.<br />
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At that time everything felt so <i>dire</i>. It's weird to look back on it now. I remember praying, though I don't remember what I said. It wasn't all about the camera, but some group of words all blubbered together about everything I was terrified over. And after that prayer, I picked up my camera to take a shot, which actually took. The lens whirred and the shutter shutted and that's where the picture for this post came from. So, this shot, this boring shot of a borrowed car's dashboard, actually means a lot to me, as it was the revival of my camera in my moment of need. And my camera works fine to this day.<br />
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Thanks for letting me borrow your car, Uncle John. Thanks for the neck strap, Gramps, but unfortunately I'll just need to buy my own. Should have bought one a long time ago. And thanks for my answered prayer, Father. Things have worked out after all.Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02759675746707403501noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4032172382200976620.post-86558428558062333942014-02-10T13:00:00.000-08:002014-02-10T13:00:15.874-08:00Linked<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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On a lighter note from the previous heavy post, here are some snippets of projects I was working on last week. Business card, poster, blog header.<br />
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I recently got around to updating my LinkedIn account after ignoring it for . . . three years? A long time. Their emails were so frequent they were on the verge of being spam, and thus I chose to unsubscribe forever and ever. As a SAHM the need to keep up my resume hasn't been pressing, and as a freelancer my active online presence doesn't really need any help from LinkedIn. I do just fine working with indie authors and friends/family, and I'm not jonesing for a busy schedule because, you know, the Mom thing. If I consider working at a brick and mortar building again, it will be after the kids are in school.<br />
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But after signing up for an <a href="http://www.ipsy.com/home">ipsy</a> account, I checked out ipsy's careers page to see that they were hiring a copywriter (starting salary is probably more than my teacher-husband makes . . .) and they requested a LinkedIn profile. Ugh. So, with the future in mind, I gave in finally updated my profile. And who knows what that gleaming, dropping-off-the-kids-at-kindergarten future will bring? I used to say if I worked for a company again it would be with one that gave the same amount of side-eye to LinkedIn that I did, but they've proved themselves over the years to be worth their salt, so whatevs.<br />
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Do any of you do make up subscriptions? I used to do <a href="https://www.birchbox.com/">Birchbox</a>, but wasn't terribly impressed as a lot of the samples were tiny. Meaning I could get the same thing by just being barraged by salespeople during a brief walk through Macy's. ipsy is supposed to include a lot of full size items, along with a make up bag each month. And they intentionally don't capitalize their brand name because that's <i>just how artsy they are</i>. Awesome.Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02759675746707403501noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4032172382200976620.post-196730025812856032014-02-07T10:27:00.000-08:002014-02-07T10:27:37.787-08:00Art & Artist<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've had a few blog posts lined up, but have been passing on them since they were kind of abrupt and silly and I've had more serious things on my mind.<br />
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Have you guys heard of Woody Allen? Of course you have. Have you read that <a href="http://kristof.blogs.nytimes.com/2014/02/01/an-open-letter-from-dylan-farrow/?_php=true&_type=blogs&_r=0">piece</a> Dylan Farrow published in the New York Times? The one about Woody Allen sexually abusing her as a child? And how her whole life it's kind of been brushed aside because "it's Woody! <i>Annie Hall</i> was so good!" I've been thinking about this, about how easily media wants to debate/disprove her claim of abuse because they love the accused . . .<br />
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Anyway, it's been on my mind because I recently found out someone I knew was sexually abused by <a href="http://www.texasmonthly.com/story/darkness-plains">Stanley Marsh 3</a>. For those who don't know, I grew up in Amarillo, TX and millionaire Stanley Marsh 3 is kind of our Andy Warhol. The rest of the world sees him as this inspiring and quirky artist (best known for <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cadillac_Ranch">Cadillac Ranch</a>) but those of us in Amarillo know him as a pedophile. It was known in our community that he targeted young guys in the punk scene and would invite them to his mansion to become fellow "artists." Plenty of allegations had been brought on him before, but he always, always, paid them off. I remember laughing about it as a kid. "Oh, that Stanley, what an awful man!"<br />
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Why I ever found it funny is beyond me. After reading the previously linked article I sat in my room, alone, feeling dark and disgusting, thinking of my friend and all he went through. Looking back at our relationship, I know the time period it happened, when everything changed between us, when he started running with Stanley's crowd, how what was possibly happening to him always lingered in the back of my mind and I never said anything. How, after moving from Texas, people would ask where I was from and when I said "Amarillo!" they said "Stanley Marsh 3!" and I would say, "Yes, the terrible pedophile," and they would dismiss it, because no no no, he's a great artist.<br />
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<i>"Separate the art from the artist."</i><br />
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We're more important than art, aren't we? Human beings and our experiences, more important than art? I had a friend once tell me she wouldn't read or go see<i> Ender's Game</i> because Orson Scott Card belongs to a church that doesn't support marriage equality, and no matter how good a story, she couldn't support him. And I respect that. I, too, struggle with my church not supporting marriage equality, because I belong to the same church Orson Scott Card does. And even though I want change and he doesn't, at the end of the day we still belong to the same organization, and if someone decides never to read my work because of that, I'll respect that decision too.<br />
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If you ever do decide to go see Cadillac Ranch, I want you to notice the group of boys lingering to the side in lawn chairs. They're there to spray paint the cars at the end of the day, so the canvas is fresh for the new set of tourists to graffiti tomorrow. That's what they do, maintain the art for Stanley. They've been there for years, faces always changing, ages always the same. Maybe they're not there anymore, now that Stanley's had a stroke, now that the pile of paid-off allegations has gotten too high. But the fact that they were ever there, instead of some professional, middle-aged paint crew . . . if you ever do decide to go see Cadillac Ranch, I challenge you to try and separate Stanley's art from Stanley's darker activities when they're standing side by side in front of you.<br />
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Andy Warhol's studio was called "The Factory" because he was able to produce several works of art on an assembly line. But, after reading a biography on Warhol, I think it was called "The Factory" because it treated people as nothing more than objects to be exploited, used, and recycled. I'm wary of the artist who uses people for art, and those who insist I separate art from people. Why? The artist doesn't.Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02759675746707403501noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4032172382200976620.post-89217654560210179412014-01-17T13:14:00.001-08:002014-01-17T13:14:38.936-08:00In The Dead Of<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A lot of people don't like winter, and I respect that. It gets dark and dank and dreary. Muddy snow looks like snot. Driving is tricky. But summer's the season that makes me uncomfortable. Heat makes me slow down and feel lethargic. I hate sweating. I don't like being immersed in bodies of water, or the inevitable bareness of swimsuit attire. I don't like being without the security blanket my several layers of clothing provides. I prefer snowballs to water balloons, hot chocolate to lemonade, scarves to sunscreen.<br /><br />This isn't to say I don't like summer, just that summer heat makes me feel uncomfortable and stupid, like I'm not enough of what the world wants me to be. Not sporty enough, not sexy enough, not drive-down-the-highway-with-the-top-down-and-your-hair-flying-around enough. I don't like my hair flying around.<br /><br />Winter reminds me that I'm not actually the uncool shut-in summer makes me feel. I love being outside in the cold, bundled up and playing in the dead leaves or snow, stomping around in boots. I'm all about that. <br /><div>
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But for everyone who's struggled this winter, and is looking forward to summer: I get it, I do. I hope the sunshine comes for you soon.</div>
Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02759675746707403501noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4032172382200976620.post-79585128597483853962014-01-09T13:04:00.000-08:002014-01-09T13:04:11.685-08:00The Wall<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Merry Christmas & Happy New Year! I hope you all had good ones. Did you make any resolutions? Mine are simply to write more, complete last year's creative projects, and . . . eat food? Tone my butt? I don't know. Seve and I have talked about taking up slacklining.<br />
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I got an email recently from Goodreads congratulating me on another great year of reading and calculating my literary consumption of 2013 to be . . . 2 books. Now, I read voraciously in 2013, but I clearly never updated that to reflect on my Goodreads account. I'm not one to read or write reviews, but I do regret not at least keeping a log of the books I read.<br />
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I don't often recommend things either, but I will now: the other day I was loading up our Netflix account and a foreign film called "The Wall" popped up on my dash. I was immediately intrigued by its premise (<i>A woman inexplicably finds herself cut off from all human contact when an invisible, unyielding wall suddenly surrounds the countryside</i>). I started it right then and there instead of browsing to whatever it was I had originally wanted to watch. And I'm glad I did, as the film has stayed with me for days. It was sci-fi but not really? Not at all? YouTube markets it as scary, but it's not that either, not in the least. I won't tell you much more than that because after watching the film I looked up as much information on it as possible and sort of regret it because other people's interpretations have tainted that initial beautiful and immersing feeling I felt while watching it. Just know that it's beautiful, and immersing, and on Netflix, so go watch it right now.<br />
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Also, I recently learned to crack open an egg with one hand and I'm feeling terribly accomplished at the moment.Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02759675746707403501noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4032172382200976620.post-34255439750429753522013-12-16T13:52:00.000-08:002013-12-16T13:52:33.474-08:00Precious & Red<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm never quite sure which part of social media to dedicate myself to. When I have an idea I usually stick it on Twitter if it's minor and stupid and fleeting but if it's long and complicated and artsy I'll put it here. Not really sure how to present myself on Tumblr other than through reblogs, but recently I've started following a lot of fellow Mormons who are also of a leftist nature and it's been reassuring.<br />
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All of this is just to say I might indulge in some cross-posting of ideas. Not word for word, but tailored for each medium.<br />
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I read a quote recently about taking the "preciousness" out of writing if you're going to make a business out of it; like stop thinking the magic can only happen if you're writing in your favorite cafe, listening to your specific playlist, using Word as opposed to Google Docs. Turn writing into something you can do anywhere, anytime, for the sake of your deadlines and productivity. Write at night, write in the morning, write in between classes, write to noise, write to silence, write in the middle of reading, write during a film, etc, etc. I'm slowly working on it, and though the beast within me grinds against the settings so opposed to my usual, my mind is slowly evolving to the comfort of it. Being able to <i>just write</i> the way we're able to <i>just eat</i>. Wherever, whenever.<br />
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Once, while driving by myself through Utah, someone ahead of me dropped a bouquet of roses from their passenger side. We were going around 70 mph, and the result was bizarre little red explosions all over the highway, smattering in a wave from that window all the way up to my windshield. It looked so violent, like a car crash without the car, blood everywhere, bloody little petals. The image scared me, unnerving me for several minutes. I was driving back from Seve's brother's play in SLC to our hotel in Provo. I wasn't enjoying the trip very much because we had to coordinate seeing Ben's play around who-could-watch-the-kids-when, and Graham was only a month old, and Utah isn't my favorite place. The image seemed like some bad omen. Until suddenly it wasn't, it was just a beautiful thing I'd just seen, a highway baptism awash in red roses to get me to just be in a better mood already.<br />
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I try and remember that whenever I think of Utah, being frustrated, or the color red.<br />
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<br />Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02759675746707403501noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4032172382200976620.post-81118482801067750282013-12-04T08:00:00.000-08:002013-12-04T08:00:12.634-08:00Human Again<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Attempts at a profile pic that descended into hairy madness.<br />
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Time for some reflection on this year's NaNoWriMo.<br />
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Seve hosted a race-to-the-finish party at his classroom where I wasn't able to get wifi, so I verified my word count early, pulling the extra 8K I needed from a previous story. This resulted in a final word count of 55,285, which I was sure couldn't have been right . . . where did that extra 5K come from? Did I really only need 3K? Nevertheless, that night at the party I finished with fifteen minutes to spare having written the full 8K in a mere three hours. My hands were shaking by the time it was over, and I'm pretty sure those last four pages descended into complete and utter gibberish.<br />
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But I did it! So on top of the initial 20K I wrote for the story back in China, I now have a fully completed 70K manuscript. In heavy need of revisions, of course, but I'll tackle that come January. I don't think I even want to look at the thing until January.<br />
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Seve also completed his NaNo on the dot at midnight after an equally frenzied writing session. Cowabunga, dude!<br />
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Tackling the NaNo this year wasn't like past NaNos . . . for once I knew the entire story from front to back, nothing was a mystery. I always thought that would help me write better, but it didn't. The writing and pace remained as it always had any time I sat down to write. Rather than dishearten me it gave me hope; that the other stories I have logged away and unsolved will reveal themselves to me in time, as long as I keep writing.<br />
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In fact, on days where I procrastinated my word count I kept returning to my 2010 NaNo. I hadn't bothered to read it since writing it three years ago, thinking it was awful and an eyesore. But I <i>loved</i> reading it! The 1950s werewolf story? I vaguely remember blogging about it at the time. I was sorely tempted to abandon my NaNo and just finish that werewolf effort. It's a full 50K after all, and only needs maybe 30K or so to wrap up the story. But then I remembered that's how this year's effort was brought about . . . a resurrection of 2007's NaNo, realizing it wasn't as bad as I thought, a sudden desire to finish it . . . so I pressed on, and finally made it to the finish line.<br />
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How did your NaNo go? Did you finish? Are you enjoying JustSleepAndEatDecember? Me too.Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02759675746707403501noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4032172382200976620.post-27477477047253899242013-11-20T11:51:00.001-08:002013-11-20T11:51:21.155-08:00The Big Leap<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Today has been wild, so I'll leave you with this.Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02759675746707403501noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4032172382200976620.post-67228614086144360702013-11-14T09:00:00.000-08:002013-11-14T09:00:08.628-08:00Lame reference to David Bowie's Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I feel like I've been meaning to add this PS to the bottom of every blog post I've written recently, but maybe it would be better to just give it its own post.<br />
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HEY! So I went on a blog hiatus for a long time and some of you did, too! Did you move your blog elsewhere or move on to greener pastures of social media? Did we lose track of each other during the demise of Google Reader? (I now use <a href="http://feedly.com/">Feedly</a>, btw) If we used to comment on each other's posts all the time and you're hanging out somewhere else now, let me know. I'd love to catch up.<br />
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As for me, if you haven't noticed yet, this blog is now simply "julesisaacs.com" instead of "goodghost.blogspot.com." For reasons, because professionalism.<br />
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k thnx baiJuleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02759675746707403501noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4032172382200976620.post-77693641877914852762013-11-13T14:40:00.000-08:002013-11-13T14:40:27.452-08:00Hong Kong Garden<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Some point-and-shoot shots from my time in Hong Kong. The last one is of me sitting at the entrance to the LDS Hong Kong temple.<br />
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A strange confession about this year's NaNoWriMo experience: it's made me cry a lot.<br />
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Well, twice, but that was quite enough for me. And I wasn't crying because the writing process was daunting or agonizing, and the tears weren't tears of frustration. I cried during the research for my novel, which was in two parts: the research of location and technicalities, and the research of my own personal experience. Rereading journals, etc.<br />
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Because my novel is set in Hong Kong, and much of it is based on my experience when I taught English over there for a semester. Remembering everything made me miss it so much, I reduced myself to tears. Just looking at pictures of egg tarts and moon pies makes me tear up, not to mention my old students.<br />
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We were warned that me might experience culture shock when we arrived, but I never did. I loved, loved, <i>loved</i> it there. For whatever reason, I felt so ridiculously happy and free. That's sounds silly and cliché, I know, but I really don't know how else to put it. I had just come out of a serious relationship, had just returned to college after a semester away, had just been to my sister's wedding . . . a lot of stuff had been building up at that point, and I let it all to go in China. Like, the minute I stepped off the plane. And it was perfect. (I guess you could say things have been great ever since, because I met Seve a few weeks after returning to the States).<br />
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I've never been a very good journal writer. This blog is my journal, I suppose. But for several years, stories were what I wrote down instead of personal experiences. And it's strange, I can reread my old short stories and they bring back all the memories that surround the time period of when I wrote them. So, I even cried a little while rereading the bits I already had for <i>Easy Beauty</i>. Because, in the midst of reading about the way my characters hold hands, I'm suddenly on the HK metro again, or when my protagonist is describing his childhood in Texas, all I can think of is how I wrote that scene after eating at that restaurant with the giant bust of Chairman Mao.<br />
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Seve was able to give me a tour of his mission in Ukraine when we were done teaching in Russia, but one day I'd like to take him and my pups to Hong Kong and relive some of my favorite experiences there. But for the time being, that's what finishing <i>Easy Beauty</i> is doing for me.Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02759675746707403501noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4032172382200976620.post-51292327716784751532013-11-07T12:23:00.000-08:002013-11-07T12:23:37.253-08:00Easy Beauty<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Perhaps it goes without saying that I'm doing NaNoWriMo this year. I do it practically every year. But this year it's a bit more fun, because I'm participating with Seve's class. Seve not only teaches theatre, but creative writing, and every semester his classes participate in National Novel Writing Month (<a href="http://nanowrimo.org/">NaNoWriMo</a> in November, and <a href="https://campnanowrimo.org/sign_in">Camp NaNaWriMo</a> in April).<br />
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Even though I often "win" NaNo every time I participate, I never necessarily love the product I end up with. 2010's effort just didn't turn out how I wanted . . . I'm usually an advocate for not taking a NaNo too seriously while writing it; it'll make it too hard to reach your word count each day. Some days you really do just end up writing a bunch of crap, and it can dishearten the effort more than if you just hadn't written anything at all.<br />
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But this year I'm breaking a few rules. Breaking my own rule of not taking myself too seriously, and breaking the usual NaNo rule of "starting fresh:" I'm finishing a NaNo I started back in 2007. This was the year I taught English abroad in China, and I convinced my entire volunteer group to participate in NaNo too. My roommate and I threw ourselves into the process and managed to get our manuscripts up to 30,000--pretty good considering we were busy teaching English/exploring China everyday. Another girl wrote a funny retelling of all the adventures we shared in China, and another wrote a hilarious retelling of <i>Twilight </i>substituting all of our names for the original characters (I was Alice).<br />
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The pictures above are of some literary magazines I picked up in China, called "Top Novel." I've never been able to read them, obviously, but my native coordinator informed me they were full of short stories, serials, and poetry. She translated a few for me. They're also filled with beautiful artwork and comics. Anyway, it was from these that I drafted my 2007 NaNo idea. The illustrations were just so beautiful, so I invented a story of what I thought they could be about.<br />
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It's six years since I bothered to read that story, but in February of this year I finally pulled it up. And I . . . loved it? It's an embarrassing teen romance, really quirky and magical realism-ish, but whatever, I love it. I've decided I owe it to myself to finish it.<br />
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Anyway, this month, as a way to pep myself up to finish, I'll be blogging about my time in China and various topics related to <i>Easy Beauty.</i><br />
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Participating in NaNo this month? Become my writing buddy <a href="http://nanowrimo.org/participants/ohnojules">here</a>. If you're struggling with your own NaNo, Nathan Bransford (my favorite ex-literary agent blogger) wrote a great book with some relevant-for-trying-to-write-and-publish-a-novel-in-2013 tips <a href="http://blog.nathanbransford.com/2013/10/how-to-write-novel-47-rules-for-writing.html">here</a>. And when you're done checking that out, watch <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KZ6rJ-ra8zg">this video</a> because I really like it.Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02759675746707403501noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4032172382200976620.post-49782138961943251772013-10-31T09:00:00.000-07:002013-10-31T09:00:01.942-07:00Don't make no deals with the devil<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Some shots from Seve's production of <i>Tales of Terror from the Tragic Valley</i>. The annual show contains several vignettes all centered on a theme, this year's being <i>The</i> <i>Twilight Zone</i>. These particular shots are from a scene about a man unsuccessfully trying to kill himself after receiving immortality from the devil. He had tried to throw himself off a building, and when his wife tried to stop him, threw her instead. Thus, you know, jail.<br />
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K let's play GUESS WHO.<br />
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Guess who went to the wrong address for her new visiting teach-ee? Guess who walked up the driveway to find a man passed out in the yard? Guess who called out "Sir? Sir?" and when she didn't receive a response went up the rest of the way to ring the doorbell in case the man was just the teach-ee's wayward son? Guess who encountered a very unhappy Saint Bernard on her way back to the car when no one answered the door? Guess who called her VT partner in a panic over the whole situation once safely to her car? Guess whose VT partner was confused at her worry because she was picturing this girl trembling in fear at the actual dog of their teach-ee, a Pomeranian? GUESS WHO<br />
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Guess who ended up hating his Thomas the Tank Engine costume even though it's his favorite show? Even though he picked it out at the store, even though he's foregoed all titles such as "Mama" and "Dada" and instead simply refers to everyone as "Thomas?" Guess who's mother will now be going as a train for Halloween because she lost the receipt and can't return the costume and doesn't want it to go to waste? GUESS WHO<br />
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Guess who ate nothing but pizza and caramel popcorn today because <i>it's my life why not</i>? Guess who now feels like they want to die and throw up all over the living room and kitchen and bathroom and did I mention die? GUESS WHOOOOO<br />
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Well, that was a fun game.<br />
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ps HAPPY HALLOWEENJuleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02759675746707403501noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4032172382200976620.post-75403425410431760542013-10-22T13:34:00.000-07:002013-10-22T13:34:12.631-07:00The Mummy's Claw<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Promotional photo I took for Twin Falls High School's production of <i><a href="https://www.facebook.com/tfhsdramadept">The Mummy's Claw</a></i>. Seve and I saw it this last Friday and it was fantastic. It was a live radio show performance and James (their director) transformed the stage into an intimate blackbox theatre as though we were inside a radio station, complete with students performing with scripts into microphones and clopping shoes on tables to make the sound effects of footsteps, rotating stone slabs for the sound of the mummy's tomb opening, etc.<br />
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This weekend I also took Simon and Graham to Barnes & Noble to pick up some Halloween books. The second we were inside, I saw a local author sitting at a table, hosting a book signing. She was by herself, the table was small, and no one was in line yet. Seeing her made me think of my <a href="http://www.taylordeanbooks.com/">mother</a> and the time she sat at a Barnes & Noble hosting a book signing, and how hard it was for her. Really good of course, but hard because it was awkward. Writing and authorship is reclusive by nature. It's an act you do alone, but if anyone's going to buy your opus you have to put yourself out there. I decided then and there that, whether it was the next <i>Hunger Games</i> or a book about potatoes, I'd buy this author's book.<br />
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Luckily it was right up my alley. A contemporary realistic YA novel about two black kids dealing with darned white kids in the south. That's putting it crudely, but it's really a great read. You can check it out <a href="http://lisatcresswell.com/">here</a>. <i>Hush Puppy</i> by Lisa T. Cresswell.<br />
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I was tempted to tell her that <i>I'm an aspiring author too!</i> and <i>yadda yadda blah blah blah</i> but until I actually have a book out there I'm not eager to really share that with anyone. No one cares if you're writing a book unless it's the sequel to something they've already read.Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02759675746707403501noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4032172382200976620.post-568328263496935082013-10-15T09:00:00.000-07:002013-10-15T09:00:04.901-07:00Taylor Swift Deserves Better<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Oh look, me n' baby Graham!<br />
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A few years ago I wrote a post on hating teenagers, or maybe just making fun of them, but I'd like to redact that statement.<br />
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First of all, I went to a writer's league meeting this weekend and it was strange because:<br />
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(a) I'm pretty sure I was the youngest one in the room. By 20 years, minimum.<br />
(b) I was the only one with a laptop, which made me feel rude???<br />
(c) The entire conversation was geared towards a non-tech approach, i.e. carrying a notebook for ideas rather than an app on your smart phone, and submissions via snail mail rather than email (I know places still do this but . . . not the kind I'd bother submitting to)<br />
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Immediately after this I went to go meet Seve at the high school where he's holding rehearsals for the annual Halloween show (<i>Tales of Terror from the Tragic Valley</i>, haha) where, naturally, we're the only ones older than 17. And it was . . . awesome? I love his students. I love teenagers! Also, it made me realize that that feeling I had that I was getting <i>old</i> (at the ripe age of 28) isn't really true yet. I met <i>old</i> this weekend, and yeah . . . definitely not there yet. The writer's league meeting wasn't awful by any means, just . . . an experience.<br />
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A lot of ellipses in this post.<br />
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I write all this to say that I have some quotes from an essay I'd like to share on teenagers, specifically teenage girls, that I really agree with. Teenage girls get a reputation for being ridiculous and eye-roll worthy, but why? Because they unabashedly express their love for things? Because they've been unfairly dealt the role of the face of superficiality? Because they're, heaven forbid, <i>girls</i>?<br />
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There's this idea that a novel/film/song about a girl (Pride and Prejudice), for a girl (Twilight), or written by a girl (Taylor Swift) is silly frolicsome fluff, but if it's by a male, it's commentary on the human condition.<i> Yeah,</i> <i>okay</i>.<br />
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Below are a few of my favorite excerpts from the essay, and if you have the time, it's really worth the read. Has some language in it, though, so fair warning.<br />
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<i>"One of the most popular ways people like to hate teenage girls is to complain about their “insane” crushes on boy band members. Now, let me tell you something: those big dumb crushes are what helps a teenage girl develop her sexuality in a safe environment that she can control. In her world, she can listen to One Direction and hear all these songs about how great she is, and how much these cute non-threatening boys want to make her feel special. Why is this so important? Because no one is pushing them. There’s no fourteen year old boy shoving his clammy hands down your shirt without your consent. These fantasy boys are not convincing a girl to send naked pictures, only to show all their friends and call her a slut. In the fantasy land of boy bands, the girl has all the power. And we need to stop judging them for wanting to escape into that."</i><br />
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<i>At twelve, most girls understand real sadness. Twelve, though it seems so young to us now, felt really old at the time. By this point, you’ve already been told how to be, and realized that you’re not measuring up. By twelve, your skin is already shit, and your body is too flabby or your breasts haven’t come in yet. Worst of all, when you’re a girl, by twelve you’ve probably already been in a situation that made you feel threatened sexually. Let that sink in. From the top of my head, I can think of four moments in my life, before the age of twelve, when someone crossed a line with me. Four. This is not abnormal."</i><br />
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---Read more at <a href="http://fygirlcrush.tumblr.com/post/61909850505">"Why I F*cking Love Teenage Girls (A Personal Essay from an Almost Adult)" by Meg</a></div>
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p.s. I now feel inspired to write a post on my favorite media featuring the girls n' ladies, so look for "Taylor Swift Deserves Better Pt 2," coming soon to a blog near you.</div>
Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02759675746707403501noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4032172382200976620.post-13608324682187388372013-10-11T16:25:00.001-07:002013-10-11T16:25:18.516-07:00Summer Session's Over<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Some shots of Seve's students from the production of <i>Cartoon</i>.<br />
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I've kept this blog quiet for a long time, but I think all my close online friends eventually wandered away from their blogs too, save a few. About a year ago I wrote a post on loneliness, and how it was kind of consuming me ever since we made the move to Twin Falls. But the truth is loneliness has always been a constant companion in my life, an ugly shoulder-angel that I'd ignore until it was the only thing I could see.</div>
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I've never taken medication for anxiety or depression because I've been afraid to, and I've only sought counseling once. It didn't go well. I showed up 20 minutes early to an empty office where the receptionist finally popped her head in 5 minutes past my scheduled time; while I was filling out paperwork the counselor came out, angry that I was "late" and kind of took it out on me during our session. I'd made her late for dinner, apparently.</div>
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I'm not one to put myself out there. As mentioned in an earlier post, I made a great friend but she moved away. We now have some cool neighbors across the hall, but I still feel life a goof in my attempts to relate to them. </div>
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So this past year I turned to writing, and made my book characters my friends. Writing helps to turn my depression off, though I know it's not the permanent answer. But writing is something I can do well and feel comfortable in. I've had short stories published in the past and I've read at art festivals and literary conferences (though getting up in front of all those people made me want to throw up all over said people). I'm currently submitting to writing competitions and more publications in an attempt to make a name for myself, and one day get an agent for my novels.</div>
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Thus the revamping of my site, and return to blogging. I could simply have a cold, distant professional website for all this, but I'd rather have an open blog where I attempt to relate to people and hopefully they can relate to me. That's why I write, anyway. To find like-minded folks. </div>
Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02759675746707403501noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4032172382200976620.post-6712245075967380952013-08-30T14:03:00.000-07:002013-08-30T14:03:49.539-07:00Anyone's ghost<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Had an awesome trip to Oregon a few weeks ago. Can't believe summer is already gone! Ah well, like any relevant blogger fall is my favorite season, so I'm not terribly bummed by summer's passing. But man, was it fast.<br />
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I'm quite sad because one of the good friends I made since moving here is moving away tomorrow. The news of which she only found out about two days ago. We were just to that point in our friendship where you share all your weirds with each other and bond over all the mutual weird. We were sharing books, our kids were pushing each other over, and she and her husband were about to move into our ward (or away for a job change . . . turns out they're going the job change route). We're having a pizza party tonight as our little fare-thee-well but all the pepperoni pizza in the world won't keep these sads at bay. Who am I gonna build ramps for now?Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02759675746707403501noreply@blogger.com1