Wednesday, January 19, 2011

What Puts the Whirl in My World

How we know more because of Google.

The same can be said for Wikipedia. (Even with the new, smooth call to donate.)

Whether this "more" is useful, insightful, a guilty pleasure, or just plain good and healthy, is always up for debate. Well, not really, because debates intimidate me, and I usually "lose" to people who read, watch, blog and use Google and Wikipedia more. I attribute this more-ness to them having an iPhone or Droid though.

The iPhone. Which is perceived so valuable, and its interface, appearance and marketing so effective, that Steve can keep charging hundreds of dollars for it, while PC-y phones can be bought for $1 at contract renewal.

Everything Mac. Except for that period in time when firewire cables became obsolete. And Steve simply left our firewire external drives high and dry, essays and entertainment stuck on it until you could break into your brother's house and use his desktop as a middle man in order to (even though I hate "in order to") have a marathon soundtrack.

E-readers. If only for the sake of taking 100 books back-backing, so you don't have to tearfully drop paperbacks into trash bins, or leave hardbacks on thin hostel bunks.

Husbands. And wives. They made a choice to hang out with you forever. That's pretty impressive no matter who you are.

Peanut butter.

Excel. Every formula, every format, every tingle of glee it provides when you make one change, and it echoes throughout your entire budget, or loan repayment plan, or tax outline, or other spreadsheet that helps organize your life into correct, little, framed and colored boxes, like the shows you record and every important detail about them. This is why Netflix, Amazon, and home libraries are also wonderful. A cost-effective, organized way of accessing and tracking bliss.

Licking peanut butter off a spoon while playing around in Excel.

New socks. Soft. Fresh. Good color. No nubbles. No embarrassment when you visit people's houses and want to be a good guest and pad around in stocking feet. Recommendation: Target Xhileration ankle socks in black, white, charcoal and heather gray for $2 each (store only).

GPS. This has saved my marriage. (However, we still waste gas making U-turns.) And it's cousin GIS, which gave me my first real marketing job, for which I'll forever be grateful. Yes, I would like some wine with that.

Space heaters. Every female knows why. These are almost as important as an education in case anything happens with your significant other, like infidelity or saying they like any other hair color but yours (at which point, they'll receive their pillow for the couch - but you'll be out of a heater). Tip: put it beside your bed, and when you can't warm your feet up, just flip it on and dip them out in front of it; bring back in when warm; you'll be toasty all night.

The rawest and best of hygiene and beauty products, tissue, Q-tips and mineral powder. (I would say Chapstick, too, but it's addicting, so it's really more of a bane than a whirl.)

Toilet flushers. Anything flushable - drop it in and lever it away. That's why trash chutes also rock simplicity. And trash chutes aren't attached to an Emerald Coast water bill.

Adidas (especially Firebird) track and your favorite kind of sweat pants. And jeans. Maybe all pants. And sneakers. Because you can't beat Sambas, Uggs, flip-flops and combat boots either. All bought on Ebay. Ebay's pretty fucking unbeatable, too.

The ability to sneeze full out.

Microsoft Outlook. Get on it Steve. Entourage doesn't count.

Book lights. This one's great. Flashlights will work, too. Extra good when under the covers. Okay, good lighting in general. This could be anything from avoiding blue lightbulbs (there are "warm" efficient bulbs) and embracing colored paper lanterns, or leaving Christmas lights up year round. Ambiance is attitude. Which is why I scream at the hus for turning on all the kitchen lights while I'm trying to cook. Who says vampire lizard is a bad thing.

Vampire lizards.

Every single Dyson vacuum. Charge me whatever you want. This seems to be a theme. Give me what I need and more, and I'll pay you whatever you want. (That's what he said.) And really anything that helps create a cleaner world. Like awesome construction jobs. But that's less whirl and more just a simple evolution.

Toyotas. Breaks shmakes.

Tampons. Sorry, but it's true. I mean, what's the alternative? Leaves? Chilling in an outhouse all by yourself?

TV trays. Though I refuse to use one (Cary has one I admire), because I like spilling these days and enjoying not having my mom around to be disappointed in me. Anything that makes you feel grown up and free is whirly. (No, I'm not drunk.)

Stimulants. And depressants that strangely act as stimulants for some people.



All professional athletes and artists really. The hus has pointed out these aren't ark-worthy professions. I agree physicians and accountants make the world go round - and I'm willing to pay them pretty pennies, and grant them every last space in the bomb shelters. But the people that make life worth living, who make you laugh so hard you fall silent, who make you question things you never would have noticed, who make you love life more, are what make the world whirl. Cake and vitamins. We want and need (and thus want) both.

I wonder what makes your world whirl...

Now for all the people that only eat honeydew for the military shit. Okay, this is pretty cool once again.

Notes on the below video:

  • Cary's flying the same plane, but with different markings, since the Texan filmed is the Air Force version (and at a different base).
  • Also, the cockpit panel (dashboard) is now a three-panel glass display of cooler digital screens, instead of the individual, older looking digital instruments in the usually blue Air Force Alpha; there's also a teleprompter looking thing in the Navy Bravo, so the pilot can keep his head up more. And practice Medal of Honor speeches.
  • Yup, those rotations, spins, stalls, and falls are what he's actually learning and doing - quite well for a physical therapist.
  • He's also doing G-awareness maneuvers (called GX). But of course he still can't maneuver a car through a parking lot to my liking. I think he's doing it on purpose.
  • Getting sick is common. Despite the little dairy and ginger pill diet many pilots adopt. CLaws apparently has a justice scale of a stomach. Oh, except when they're just flying back to regional in a straight, level line. Hee, hee.
  • Towards the end of the clip - yup, that's where he sits, in the front like that; the instructor is behind. Cool knee notebook, huh? I feel like I need that when trying to explain my job to people.
  • I know. The stick. You can't help but let your mind wander.

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Writing It is Easier Than Talking About It

Peanut (who escaped the gallery): "So, what's it about?"

Writer: "Umm......"

Now imaging inserting a book topic into this growing, (but it will quickly die), dialogue that's unfortuantely continued with a topic like ... A writer (go figure). A man who takes a magic pill and can then use his brain to its full potential (taken). A murder beneath the Eiffel Tower. (Ooo, but hasn't that been taken? If in doubt, yes.) It's a Christian YA novel (snore). It's a collection of coming-of-age short stories. (The listener thinks, What the fuck's a short story?) It's about a justice-seeking serial killer who shares a sweaty state with hot vampires. (Every former literature professor of that writer just had a seizure.)

Then there's always an awkward pause or two, depending on how much longer a conversation about books, let alone writing them, can last. If the peanut is kind, they'll try and think of one or two more questions and listen politely. If they think they could write at  least as good as you, they'll give you ideas, or feedback on pages they've never seen. If they don't read, they'll quickly change the subject back to their own job. If they do read, they probably understandably think it's all a pipe dream without much chance of water gushing through it.

But if they're one of those people who reads as well as confidently admits to Twilight being as good a read as To Kill a Mockingbird, then they're both bright and honest - the kind of people I love to surround myself with. (Yes, I ended a sentence with a preposition, Grammar Girl). And I hope these people (who I like to call 'almonds') rub off on me. If they read, think like this, and actually sit down and write themselves, the almond becomes a cashew, and I want to eat them up, absorbing every shared experience and insight. Because only they know what it's truly like.

So, after some more strained, straggling conversation over a meal, in line for a movie, in the car, or chilling on some couches, we usually flip back (within about 60 seconds) to anatomy, engines, teeth, cooking, budgets, kids, dogs, even cats.

But we might come back to writing at some point. Blogging. Freelancing. The future bestseller. Maybe over dessert, or on the way home from sushi or the beach - which is irritatingly frigid for Florida right now, despite the northern gulf being obviously different from Jupiter.

Peanut: "So, what's it called?"

Writer: (thinks) Well, shit-fucky.

Have your cake and eat it too: Write and don't talk about it. As for pleasing Twi-hards and English profesors, I haven't figured that one out yet...