Changing of the tides?

So, I’m interested in a lot of things.  This leads to the reading of a lot of stuff on the internet.  As much as I’ve known that trolls are everywhere and will irritate me to no end, I always end up at the comment section.  To be fair, a lot of it makes me sick. 

But lately I feel like I’ve noticed a slight flux in the way people handle trolls.  I feel like there are decent people out there who make a stand to be positive, or at least debate something they don’t agree with in a decent, polite way.  And then don’t give the trolls the food they need so desperately to survive- attention.  I love it and will be mindful everyday to do the same, however much I want to reach through the laptop and throttle them by their mean evil necks.

So my plea is this: IGNORE A TROLL TODAY.  It’s been illustrated as effective in film, even: think Freddy Krueger, or (better) David Bowie in Labyrinth with his very, very tight pants.  Say it out loud: “You have no power over me!”.  The bad guy almost always disappears.

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On living in the middle of everything.

I grew up in a trailer park smack in the middle of the Saco Auto Mile.  For those unfamiliar with the glorious territory, it’s 4 lanes of high speed Route 1 surrounded by car dealerships.  I had lots of trailer park roads to ride my bike around, but once we hit Route 1, the party was over.  I needed a car to get anywhere or do anything fun or cool. (Except Funtown USA.  Where I worked, thus somehow making the amusement park no longer fun. And I couldn’t even walk there until I was 15.)

Cut to today.  Through a miracle of real estate technicalities, DH and I are living in a street one block away from Portland’s Eastern Prom.  Besides being a generally fun place to go play tennis, swing on a swingset, or just generally lie around with a book, it is home to the biggest 4th of July party in town and, tomorrow- for the first time, a hugeass concert.  Mumford and Sons is playing one of 4 US concerts this summer in my backyard! Free fun!  I stood on my deck tonight and listened to their sound check.  Tomorrow will be a day of BBQing, beerpong, and fun with friends.

I get to live where fun stuff happens! Go Team Me!

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Hopefully, the dorkiest post I ever put up.

I have a guilty secret. (Unless you are DH, in which case it isn’t so much a secret as a regular f0rm of torture. Sorry, babe.).  I’m a Bravo freak, to the point where Andy Cohen’s ‘Watch What Happens Live’ is my only Must-See TV, and somehow, during the week, I make sure I’m completely caught up on ALL of the Housewives.

Tonight, shit got real.  Because apparently, Meryl Streep is going to be on WWHL.  How this happened, I do not know.  And I don’t care.  This should be the best half hour of tv EVER.

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On the Title….

I feel like I should at least give some sort of nod to where I came up with the title for my blog.  When I decided to give this another go (after the long-ago college LiveJournal years), sitting down and thinking about a title seemed like a really hard thing to do.  I mean, my blog wasn’t going to be about anything in particular.  And I’m not obsessed with any one thing (other than my cat, Mr. Darcy- more on him later) enough to make it, well, ME.  So I looked for a filler title- FYI, this blog was almost called “Blah blah blargity blah”- and decided to shower on it.

As much as I love bath products, the shower proved fruitless.  Other than the fruit in my generic Cucumber Melon body wash.  But no titles.  Then I started paying attention to the songs in my head.  I always have one, ALWAYS.  This one is a favorite of mine.  Don’t go taking the lyrics all crazy literal, it’s actually really depressing.  There are nuggets of truth in it though, and the line I titled my blog after has always resonated with me.  I give you…

Pictures of Success- Rilo Kiley

Build your own television receiver
Staying home can’t be that bad for me
Because I’m not scared, but I’d like some extra spare time
Easily earn me big money
I’m a modern girl, but I fold in half so easily
When I put myself in the picture of success
I could learn world trade or try to map the ocean

When you’re dead, in hospitals and freeways
When you’re dead, in resting homes and clinics
When you’re dead, it must be nice to finish
When you’re dead

I’ve had it with you, and Mexico can fucking wait
And all of those French films about trains
Because I’m not scared, but I’d like some extra spare time
I’m not scared, but the bills keep changing colors

When you’re dead, in hopsitals and freeways
When you’re dead, in dress shirts and neck ties
When you’re dead, in apartments and on beaches
When you’re dead

They say California is a recipe for a black hole
And I say I’ve got my best shoes on, I’m ready to go
Ready to go, ready to go, I’m ready to go
Ready to go, ready to go, I’m ready to go

These are times that can’t be weathered
And we have never been back there since then
These are times that can’t be weathered
And we haven’t been back there since then
These are times that can’t be weathered
And we have never been back there since then
These are times that can’t be weathered
And we haven’t been back there since then

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On Loving My Job (Or, The Agency Recruiter Becomes the Temp).

Somehow this year I decided that it would probably be a good idea to change my life completely, in the span of six weeks.  No baby steps for me! Finding employment for others has been the focus of the past seven years but, you know? It’s harder when you are finding your own.

While I’d been feeling burnt out at my job of nearly 7 years, the decision to leave it came quickly, with no exit plan, and not entirely of my own accord. (Word to the unhappily-employed: when someone wants you to tell the truth about where you’ll be in a year and promises it won’t go any further- DO NOT trust them.  Not with your livelihood. I was pretty much a naive dumbass.)  Best of all?  Shiz went down 4 weeks before my wedding- a time when you are generally A) insane, and B) have frivolous expenses thrown at you on a daily basis.  As it worked out, I negotiated my next move from a beach chair at the Disney Animal Kingdom Lodge in Orlando, which I’d generally decided to make my home should I not have at least a nibble by the time we got back.  I had this whole plan that involved hiding in the flamingo pen.  They would be my minions and share their shrimps with me.

I worked two more weeks at the agency once I flew back to the reality, while I was interviewing and all of the pre-employment details were worked out.  It was a recruiting gig with a company considerably more reputable than my current employer.  A summer maternity leave starting after Memorial Day and wrapping up after Labor Day- the recruiter would become the temp.  It seemed the perfect thing, while admittedly a sizable pay cut.  It would be the Summer of Jess without a huge, rotting albatross of a job stuck around my neck.  A summer fling.

As it turns out, there is a problem with the fling.  I’m in love.  The people are lovely, my manager is phenomenal, I never feel micro-managed, and I’ve learned more in the last months than I have in the last three years.

I thought I was burnt out on what I do!  As it turns out, I was just really unhappy where I was.  I should have left years ago.  But let’s be real- who was lucky enough to be employed in the last 3 years and wanted to rock the boat?  A change of scenery has made me realize what I like about my job, and what I do well at it.

So now, the summer half gone, I realize that I’m exactly where I want to be, but can’t stay there.  I wonder if that’s what Kristen Stewart feels like?

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I fear that I will never be a Weekend Warrior.

I had fantastic plans for today.  They included tennis with my bro (it rained, so no), tackling Laundry Mountain, mopping the kitchen floor, and starting to write some wedding Thank You cards.  So far, the best I’ve done is picking up the living room, taking a nap on the couch, and watching several hours of Olympic sport and then, when I’d had enough, Breaking Bad reruns on Netflix.  Is there a store for people who need to buy a fire in their belly?  

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Rocky is REAL!

I just figured it out!  Lochte is Rocky IV!  He’s all out flipping tires in his driveway to train while Phelps is all Rocky III , resting on his laurels and posing for pinball machines and stuff!

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