AliThinks

The Ultimate Blog Entry

...for the month of April, 2007.

Today was a beautiful day: weather-wise, morale-wise, and booty-wise.

No, not that booty.

Treasure booty. Loot. Stuff. I got a book that I'd ordered from Amazon France at the end of March. It's a replacement, in fact, because I never got the original order. After I contacted customer service, they arranged for a new shipment, and they sent it express at no charge to me. The DHL guy woke me up by ringing the doorbell this morning, then banging on the door.

Okay, so it was almost noon.

The book is called Sorbonne Confidential, and is the "docu-fiction" tale of an American woman who attempts the agrégation. The author, Laurel Zuckerman, went through the process herself, but the protagonist's name is Alice, hence the term docu-fiction (which I lifted from the back of the book). The book was published in France, in French, but I did notice that it was translated from English.

I'm already at Chapter 15, page 167. It's that good. Of course, I went through a similar process with the CAPES. (Call it "cap-ess," and sorry, that link is in French.) I fully understand the feeling of not fitting in to the system.

Remind me, and I'll give a more thorough opinion when I've finished the book. And thanks to Andie at C'est Ma Vie for writing about it.

*****

In other news, remember when I gave that public service announcement about grammar? And some of you asked me to tackle certain faux pas? Yesterday I found a great link that not only reiterates what I said, but which also explains the misuse of myself. The entire site is a great resource.

*****

That's about it. I've got another thing to say, but it deserves its own blog entry.

Spur of the Moment

Yesterday at lunch Allan and I were discussing what we could do that afternoon. He said "Wanna go to Cincinnati?"

So we did. We went to places we don't have in Lexington, like Pottery Barn and Trader Joe's. We also stopped by The Fresh Market. One will open here in a couple of weeks, so it was like getting a sneak preview.

I still had a PB gift card that Mike gave me for my birthday last year. I found this cool candle holder, and I can't for the life of me find it on the PB website. I'll post a photo of it later. (Edit: Click here for a sort of crappy photo of it.)
Thanks, Mike!

At Trader Joe's we got into a conversation with the cashier. She commented on our bags, and we ended up talking about how we drove up from Lexington. Out of the blue, Liza (I looked at her name tag; Hi, Liza! if you're reading this) said "I've seen you before. I remember the bags. And your glasses. I love your glasses!"

That made me smile with the full force of my dimples.

On the spur of the moment, much as the decision to drive to Cincy had been, I fished my box of MOO cards out of my purse and gave her one. And because she said she liked my glasses, I gave her one with my photo on it. In fact, it's the photo that's in my banner.

Sometimes it's good to do things without thinking too much about it.

For Mist1

New Shoes!, originally uploaded by Alison.

Thinking

Okay, so the last couple of days have been kind of crappy for me. I've got a lot on my mind right now, and I miss my kids. Let me just leave it at that for the moment.

There's something I've been thinking about, however. About six weeks ago I applied for what seems to be a VERY cool job with a VERY cool company. If I were hired, I'd get to use many a few of my skillz: online communication, überfluency in French, helping others, being a benevolent force.

I read the job description about fifty times. It was me. I updated my curriculum vitae. I crafted and honed my cover letter. I sent it all via e-mail, as you do.

Two weeks later, I wrote back, reminding the hiring manager of my interest and how I was a perfect fit.

Three days later, I got an e-mail. There was a ton of interest in the position, and the Company thanked everyone who applied for the job. The Company would be in touch only with qualified applicants.

That was 23 days ago.

So now I'm wondering how long of a process this is. Am I in the running? If I'm not, how will I know? But how could I NOT be in the running? It's the perfect job for me. Seriously. How long does hiring take? Should I write back again, or would that be annoying?

People, the last time I actually had a job interview was sometime in 1997, and even then it was "You speak English and graduated from college? You're hired." My recent freelance work has come about due to my writing skills (see? I know how to spell, too) and personal connections.

What I'm getting at is that I really, really want this job. I can't think of a more perfect job for me. Have I mentioned the absolute perfectness of this job?

Yeah. It's perfect. And I want it.

Split Heart

Split Heart, originally uploaded by Alison.

Heavy Heart

...

Balloons At Night

Balloons At Night, originally uploaded by Alison.

A Bit More On The Letter

In case it wasn't clear: I wrote the letter to the other me. With a pen. On paper. Which I then stuck in an envelope and took to the post office. I expect Alison SameExactNameAsMe will receive it sometime next week. She lives in the UK, after all.

I'll let you know if I hear from her.

*****

In other news, in the past week my friends here have totally rallied for me, giving me opportunities to work. Unfortunately, twice now the scheduled job has fallen through. It's not my friends' fault; I don't blame them. But dammit! I wore mascara today.

*****

Have I mentioned that I appreciate my local friends? I've made a few four in my 13 months here. I love them all.

*****

This thing I can't blog about? I might be able to blog about it soon. Il est temps de crever l'abcès.

*****

So many things to say, so few fingers to type them with. My brain moves so fast (some would call that ADD) and I can't sit still and write a coherent blog entry. Sometimes I combat this with a videoblog. Tonight you get snippets.                  

A Letter To My Namesake

Dear Alison,

I suppose you are wondering who I am and how I got your address. For some time now, I have been receiving your e-mails, because Gmail [in its infinite stupidity, -ed.] does not recognize dots in e-mail addresses.

This is how I became aware of your trip to Majorca. I hope you had a good time. This morning I received another e-mail from EasyJet. I logged into your account in order to unsubscribe and saw your address and phone number.

I thought I'd write you a note informing you that I've been getting your e-mails. For Gmail, alisonDOTnameATgmailDOTcom = alisonnameATgooglemailDOTcom.

Unless you choose a new user name, I will continue to get your mail. If I have a bone to pick, it's with Gmail, not you. However, I will continue to unsubscribe you from e-newsletters if I continue receiving them.

Thanks for your understanding.

Regards,

Alison SameExactNameAsYou

Thank You, Jamie!

A month or so ago I sent an e-mail to the Lexington Herald Leader's Culture Writer, Jamie Gumbrecht, informing her of the threat to internet radio. She thanked me and told me she'd be out of town, but that she'd keep an eye on the issue.

Yesterday I e-mailed her again, after I read that the Copyright Ruling Board had rejected webcasters' appeal for a hearing. Today Jamie wrote a blog entry about the issue, and she mentioned MOI! [insert grin]

So thank you, Jamie, for helping spread the word.

                                                       *****

In other news, I'm finding it hard to feel anything about what happened at Virginia Tech yesterday. I think it's a self-preservation mechanism. Columbine shook me hard. This? I can't let it; as it is, I'm hanging on by a hair.

To end on a happier note, twelve years ago today I gave birth to a beautiful, healthy baby girl. She's still beautiful and healthy, but she's growing up fast. 

Happy Birthday, ma belle.

C'est Grave

Internet radio is more threatened than ever.

Sunday Coffee And Other Tidbits

This weekend Allan's oldest friend and his wife came to visit. R. and B. (hehe, R&B) arrived Friday morning and left at the crack this morning. It was great to see them again (I met them at Christmastime). We ate well and laughed a lot.

So here it is, late Sunday morning, and the coffee is delicious. I had a whole bunch of fun things to say, but I've forgotten them all, as you do when you don't write stuff down immediately. I either need to find my moleskine, or open Typepad as soon as a thought enters my brain.

The weather has been crappy for the past, oh, TEN DAYS, so maybe that's sucking the life out of me. Friday was nice, and we spent the afternoon at Keeneland, but it was chilly in the shade. I need warmth and sunshine.

I don't mean to complain. My doctor recommended melatonin for the insomnia, and that seems to be helping. As for the rest, I am under extreme stress right now, but I just don't feel I can put the issue I'm dealing with out there for the internets. Yet. Suffice it to say, I can't get my mind off it.

That's the news from this corner of the world. Oh yeah, below the jump is a really cool thing. Check it out.

Rolling My Eyes

...because fuckin' Wendy's is using a Violent Femmes song in a commercial.

Allan thinks it's okay, because it allows the musicians to make an extra buck. I see his point.

But really. The Femmes? Wendy's? It's almost worse than Iggy Pop and that cruise line.

Oh hey, here are the lyrics to that song. Just so you can see how WRONG it is to use it to sell fast food:

When I'm a walking, I strut my stuff, then I'm so strung out
I'm high as a kite, I just might, stop to check you out

Let me go on, like a blister in the sun
Let me go on, big hands I know you're the one

Body and beats, I stain my sheets, I don't even know why
My girl friend, she's at the end, she is starting to cry

Let me go on, like a blister in the sun
Let me go on, big hands I know you're the one

Whisper:

When I'm a walking, I strut my stuff, then I'm so strung out
I'm high as a kite, I just might, stop to check you out
When I'm a walking, I strut my stuff, then I'm so strung out
I'm high as a kite, I just might, stop to check you out
Body and beats, I stain my sheets, I don't even know why
My girl friend, she's at the end, she is starting to cry
When I'm a walking, I strut my stuff, then I'm so strung out
I'm high as a kite, I just might, stop to check you out

Loud:

Let me go on, like a blister in the sun
Let me go on, big hands I know you're the one

Yah. The anthem of many an 80s teenager. Fuckin' Wendy's. Need I say more?

I Almost Forgot!

Today is my third blogiversary. Hippity hoppity, yeah yeah yeah.

My blog mojo hasn't been around much this past year, it seems. And right now I'm working on my other blog, so my mental energy is there instead of here. I will share a link to the Alison Timeline Blog when I am ready, by the way.

If you want some really exciting news, how about this: I just paid off my student loan!

I Do Love My Hometown

Pittsburgh is cool. But you already knew that, right?

That's all for now. I popped some valerian root capsules (mmmm! fragrant!) about 45 minutes ago. Must. sleep. 

Yeah, Tired.

I've just spent the last four and some hours reading - nay, devouring - Bitter Is The New Black by Jen Lancaster (and hey, why won't Typepad let me turn her name into a link to her website?). Anyway, her site is http://jennsylvania.com, and her book was damn funny. It took me a moment to not be annoyed by the constant footnotes, but other than that, it was a great read. I recommend it, if you enjoy reading snappy commentary, blog-style. (I have to laugh, because I used to write that way. Alas, I no longer do.)

It's now a proven fact that I cannot sleep without chemical enhancement. This is not new, but I suspect my lack of exercise for the past two three months isn't helping either. So, um, yeah. I've got the four a.m. migraine coming on and am not confident in ibuprofen's ability to help.

Random thoughts that come shooting out of my brain, hooray for insomnia! And lack of coherent thought! Or ability to channel synapses! And that last one didn't even make sense!

So. How ya'll are?

Edit: Has anyone out there tried valerian as a sleep aid?

Tarred

This is me, yawning, but I was too tired to aim the camera the right way.

So. I didn't advance on my homework at all today. In fact, I didn't do much of anything except fret about things I'm not in the mood to talk about.

Sheesh. I gotta go to bed.

Homework

Yesterday I went to my second session with a therapist. Yes. Therapy, therapist, Effexor XR. I need it all at this time in my life.

Last Monday, Sally gave me a homework assignment: to answer the question "Who am I?"

As I told her yesterday, it's an impossible question to answer. For so long I had lost myself, and I still haven't found what I'm looking for the real Alison yet. I'm in there somewhere -- it's not like I'm some ersatz ME -- but I'm just not quite able to say This Is Who I Am.

At the end of the session, Sally asked me to create a timeline of myself, my life, using some of the self-portraits I've posted on Flickr (which I shared with her). My task now is to scan photos of myself from age 0 to now into my laptop, write a commentary, and e-mail the whole shebang to Sally before our next session.

She caught me smiling as she described what she wanted me to do, and asked me to explain that. I said, "It sounds like fun."

And it does. Scanning photos of myself, exploring the epoch they were taken, writing down my impressions of the images themselves and their place in my herstory...

So that's my homework for the week. The photos have been scanned, and I'm going to create a blog especially for the project.

Oh, and I also have to write 500 words about a local organic farm. I'll get paid for that, but it seems much less interesting than the Alison timeline.