It took me two days, but I sorted through my Google Reader and got rid of all of my folders and tags (I had gone srsly tag crazy)—streamlining all feeds into three, more simple and self-explanatory folders: work, play, and maybe. I unsubscribed to dozens of sites that haven’t updated in forever and tried to keep only the blogs that add value to my life in some way. Like you know, indexed and stuff white people like.
The “maybe” folder will be for new blogs I discover and want to test drive.
This morning I went from top to bottom and got through every single solitary one of my blog feeds. I know, right? I had empty folders for three whole seconds before Perez updated.
When I was fresh out of college I worked in advertising in the big city. Our clients were primarily large corporations; I had to wear nylons. Every time I think, “Gee, I could be making more money if I took a job at an agency, a 401k plan would be nice ...,” I summon scenarios that pretty much look exactly like this:
You’re standing in the coffee isle at the supermarket and realize that you’re at the wrong store because they don’t sell the organic Starbucks here, that’s over at the other store, but an employee approaches you and kindly asks, “Hi there, finding everything okay?” and so this is your chance, you’ll just ask him! Perhaps the product is in the back or you’re just not seeing it! So you respond, “no ...”
Behind you, you hear the employee’s squeeky shoes hesitate for a fraction of a second while he considers whether or not to respond before skurrying on by.
This happens most frequently at grocery stores I’ve noticed, the cashiers are the worst. The next time one asks you if you found everything okay as you’re checking out, just use the simple phrase, “no ...” and note their response. Nine times out of ten they don’t even hear what you say and of that 10% when they do, ten times out of ten they don’t give two shits. Not like they’re going to reply, “Oh, you couldn’t find the white wine vinegar? Let me get that for you!” with a big old line of people waiting to be checked out.
Last week the lady at the organic food section asked me if I was finding everything okay and I said, “no, apparently you don’t carry the certified humane eggs here” and she stared at me like I just farted in her soup.
And so I ask you, why the hell do they even ask this question in the first place?
I have postponed bringing this up in any detail here or elsewhere because my efforts are part of a grander scheme and as of yet, those efforts have been pretty minimal. I had been simmering some ideas and was nowhere near ready to implement them, when all of a sudden a great opportunity to buy in to a media-related, women-centric cooperative came up and so I jumped without a net. Over the coming months I’ll finish the business plan, finish my site redesign, and finish putting together the virtual office presence and brand.
Yesterday, my friend Aliza called and said that her regularly scheduled guest for her show, “Real Biz in SL”, had backed out at the last minute and would I do the show with her? Well, part of the grand scheme of things is a video tour/introduction to what I’m doing in SL so I figured I might as well say yes, even though I am not “there yet,” and on the condition that she consider doing a follow up in six months or so when I don’t have to pull quite so much out of my ass.
This should be on YouTube shortly but for now here’s the direct link if you’re interested. I don’t think I talk like this in real life, at least I hope I don’t sound like a pretentious twat! And sweet baby Jesus smack me if I ever say “clients and colleagues” in a sentence ever again. EVER.
Anyway, now that the cat is out of the bag, please let me know if you would be interested in a tour of my place in Second Life or to meet up and play bumper cars or ride around in my hot air balloon. Fridays after work (usually around 6PST) I am usually on and my zombie bartender is doling out cocktails - would love to “meet you” there! Eventually I hope to host live music events (any singers/musicians interested?), launch parties, and maybe workshops for web or graphic designers or bloggers and oh - a billion other ideas. Without further adieu, watch the video, enjoy!
So, I’ve decided not to attend my HS reunion this evening. I sort of have this feeling of guilt about it, which is really bugging me this afternoon. I suppose it’s because I feel obligated to go, that somehow I should feel that my not going might be indicative of some deep-seeded insecurity. And that I should go to prove that’s not the case.
More likely, I’m just being a mentalist. I like the person I’ve become quite a bit, and so with that, I’m cutting myself a break and not forcing myself to do something I just don’t think would be much fun.
When I was in HS I cared so much about what people thought. I never missed a dance, football game, or party - I would have sooner died. I am genuinely fond of many people that I graduated with, but I don’t think the experience of seeing some of them this weekend would be enough to offset all of the uncomfortable small talk I’d have to endure.
These days I’m pretty picky about who I spend my time with (online or off). If I spend my time with you, it means you enhance my life in some way. It’s true, because I really enjoy being alone. So what good could come from spending the evening getting drunk with a room full of people I’ve already chosen not to remain in contact with? Harsh, perhaps.
I realized that the only people who have asked me whether or not I’m going are either a) people that aren’t going and want to know they’re not the only ones or b) the people organizing. It occurred to me that the people organizing just want to do a good job and get bodies there, it isn’t so much about me.
On the flip side of this bizarre guilt I’m feeling, I also feel strangely liberated. Like when you decide to fire a client or quit your job - you feel kinda icky about it, but proud that you have the courage to do what’s best for you.
I decided to put a couple hundred bucks in my vacation fund today, figured I would have spent at least that on a new outfit and dozen or so martinis that would have been required.
