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In spite of everything that has happened in my life, somehow my mother and I are still capable of having these amazing conversations that are both touching and inspirational. It proves that I am actually capable of being something other than snide and cynical about my family. It’s refreshing.
The BBC had me thinking this morning about the end of the first decade of the new millennium.
This wee little website has become a fixture in my life, though my relationship with it has changed over the years. My motivation for starting it, oh so many years ago, was simply a place to air the contents of my brain and also a place to collect the plethora of amusing and interesting URLs that I kept digging up. It was also a convenient way to keep me occupied, as I was unemployed at the time.
When Forever North (my ex) and I broke up, the act of cataloguing the minute details of my life started to feel more awkward than it had before. Part of it was to maintain my zealous desire for privacy, but part of it was also to avoid treading on sensitive areas. Forever North and I spent 7 years together, and our shared memories seemed to permeate every part of my life. It was all I could do to keep my chin up and continue moving forward, without questioning or revisiting the past.
Things were further complicated when Seuss and I started dating. We met through our websites, and our websites became the talk of our friends and family. Consequently, I became self-conscious of saying anything that was either deeply personal, or in any way involving our relationship, particularly if it would embarrass my quiet and deeply private new boyfriend. I gamely continued documenting the entertaining aspects of our lives, particularly the many concerts we were photographing and attending, but the personal elements all but disappeared.
I think it has taken me the last 4 years to get to a point where I’m comfortable enough to share more personal thoughts and feelings again. Seuss and I are now content and secure enough as a couple that I’m not afraid that I will inadvertantly scare him into hiding, and I think it has reopened my relationship with Limeworld.
I’ve tried making it a music blog, or a place where I simply catalogue amusing things, but that isn’t me. Limeworld is a journal of sorts, one missing pages here and there, but ultimately adding up to a reasonable approximation of who I have been and who I am becoming. I’m eager to share a little more of my life again, if only to give my future self a window into the person I am.
There are some topic areas that I will generally avoid on Limeworld, but this has everything to do with the fact that I am aware that my audience includes family members who would really prefer to not read about things of an adult nature. For their sake, I save that content for elsewhere. If you are interested in knowing what I talk about over there, send me an email.
Regretsy
I’m laughing so hard I’m crying.
This album immediately conjures memories of a cassette tape that fell into my possession some years ago. It was a self-produced album belonging to a family friend. Production values were identical, except that he was Hungarian, unable to speak English, but singing entirely in English.
Both my mother and my step-father speak English as a second language, so far be it from me to hold that against someone. The problem was, his use of words was so bizarre, and his pronounciation so completely garbled, that I swear that one of the songs was about goats and clouds.
I was 13 at the time. My step-father introduced the tape to us, proud of this tape from his musician friend. He started the tape, and the warbling of the sound quality immediately didn’t bode well. When he began to sing, the notes came out flat and wobbly, and the words sounded like he was speaking through some automated translator. I started to laugh. Hesitantly at first, watching my parents to see if my reaction would be received without incident. I tried to stifle my laughter out of politeness, but this only amplified things. It soon became contagious, as it quickly became apparent to my parents that he was singing about livestock and meteorological phenomenon. It wasn’t long before tears were streaming down all of our faces, holding our sides in pain.
Varga takes me right back, Casio and lo-fi recording to boot. This makes me do a little dance of exquisite joy.
Don’t know what to get the family member you despise, but want something with a personal touch? Regretsy is here for you!
Save the attractive crafts for yourself and your best friend, Regretsy has itemized the worst of Etsy, from pet humiliation to all things vagina-inspired.
If nothing else, go just so you have an excuse to say “Vagtastic!”
Seasonal WIN!
The Santa in my photo isn’t sketchy, but I was definitely unwilling to sit on his lap!
Dude is moving up in the world. He has a Facebook page!
Dear Universe,
Please invent an excuse for me to wear this dress. Thank you.
Click on the following links at your own peril. If you’re already queasy, you definitely want to take a pass.
I have a morbid fascination with gross stuff, which I blame on my health care professional family members. Dinner-inappropriate conversational topics were standard fare, with myself being the individual with the weakest capacity for enduring sights/stories involving blood and guts. That said, if the goal is to gross-out other people, it seems to suppress my natural urge to vomit and faint. As a result, I am to blame for introducing more than a handful of my friends to the wonders that the Internet has to offer. Goatse? Yep, introduced several people to that. 2 Girls 1 Cup? Yep, introduced several people to that.
My memories of the early WWW days usually involved items with shock factor, my first favourite find being Rectal Foreign Bodies, a collection of the various items that beleaguered health care professionals have had to remove from the rectums of individual who have exercised exceptionally poor judgement. That site is more funny than gross, since most of the contents are either text case reports, or x-ray images. Another throwback is a site that I’ve attempted to visit over the years, but have been overcome with nausea and unable to actually explore. Yes, I’m talking about Rotten.com.
With the prevalence of gross/shocking images these days, the site doesn’t have quite as much gag-potential as it once did. Even so, I still can’t bring myself to click on some of the images. Skin disorders, large wounds and massive head injuries are still enough to force me into a head-between-knees position. Can we talk about something else now? That’s about all the nausea I need for one day.
Before she was Lady Gaga, she was Stefani Germanotta. Most of her music doesn’t do much for me, and the cult of celebrity that swirls around her has gotten really old really fast. That said, however, this video made me realize that the woman behind Lady Gaga is actually a gifted musician, and clearly savvy enough to leverage all the elements required to rise to superstardom. I don’t care for the music she’s producing these days, but I appreciate a woman with that much drive and ambition. She seems quite aware of how to use the fame machine to her advantage, and I think she may yet see the kind of success that Madonna has had in her career. Neither her music nor her fashion choices particularly inspire me, but watching her manipulate the system is fun. I just hope she’s strong enough to endure the time when the fame machine wants to chew her up and spit her out.
There is a checklist. I’ve rarely heard it addressed directly, but it comes up in conversation on a regular basis. If I were to condense some of its contents, it would look something like this:
x – put up Christmas decorations already, neighbours still slacking, 5 points
x – baked enough cookies to feed the developing world and finished my Christmas shopping before other people have even started, 20 points
x – brow-beat significant other into achieving next step of relationship progression, 50 points
_ – plan wedding that costs more than the GDP of Fiji
_ – set timeline for having children, disregarding debt and overall financial stability
Question: who the fuck came up with this bullshit, and why are women constantly bringing it up? Since when were all females playing what amounts to an RPG, and when do I get to officially opt out? Is it possible to talk about something like, oh, I don’t know, world events? Must we sit around, congratulating each other on checking off new items, while simultaneously admonishing everyone else who has failed to do so?
Now, Ladies, I realize that it’s a huge leap, but might I suggest that we all take a step back and consider that not everyone cares about The Checklist. If we’re all so fucking feminist, then it might be good to remember that we all have a CHOICE about what we choose to pursue, and the order and speed in which we pursue said items is NONE OF YOUR GODDAMN BUSINESS. We can talk about other things, like music, philosophy, science. I regularly have conversations with men and women that never so much as drift in the direction of The Checklist, and I think we can make this the norm if we all try really hard. I realize that means that you won’t get to probe me on my marital status or ticking biological clock at every family gathering, but it will get easier with practice. If you start to get twitchy with withdrawl, feel free to retreat into a few costume dramas where the characters have nothing better to do than compare checklists. You can rejoin the real world when you’ve got it out of your system.
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