Frankly, this is always set me up for disappointment.  As it does for the rest of the world.  It just goes to show that I’m not quite as original as I think I am.   It’s no surprise that most of my resolutions go unresolved by June, only to be reattempted the following January.

For some, the strategy would be aim lower.  That way, at least you accomplish something.  It’s the philosopy to aim for a “6″ instead of a “10,” that way when you get a “6,” you won’t be disappointed.  However, in the last couple of years, I have decided to take the opposite opinion.

Aim higher.

Set a higher goal, and if you don’t accomplish it, at least you’ve accomplish something pretty great.  Aim for a “15,” that way when you get a “10,” you still  have a fricken “10.”  And 10 is a good effort.  So that’s what I’ll be doing this year.

Among other things ² I made a creative goal to tackle five projects in 2009.  In the end of course, I acomplished three  and had lots of miscellaneous notes and false starts.  It’s not the five I shot for, but I have some pretty decent portfolio pieces and a lot of much needed practice.

In my book, that’s a win for me.  And I don’t think it’s settling.  New year’s resolutions aren’t about winning a prize, they are about bettering yourself.  If I hadn’t had made the goal to write five pieces, the three I did accomplish might not have ever happened.  This year, I’m going to aim for five, and maybe this year, I’ll get four done.  It’s about baby steps.  Change doesn’t happen in leaps in bounds, it happens in small but steady steps and if I never try, how will I make any progress?

So, make those resolutions.  Who knows, maybe you’ll do better than you thought.  Here’s a tip, re-evaluate in June and relaunch if you need to.

Anyway, everyone have a Merry Christmas and an awesome New Year. If anything, be thankful that at least we are out of the “noughties,” which was a really lame moniker.

Good Luck.

___

Why do people feel the need to lower their cars?

By “people” I mean “mostly stupid boys” and by “lower” I mean “yank out the suspension of the car so that it’s dragging on the pavement.”

Today, it’s mostly an aesthetic thing.  Like wings, spoilers, and “racing stripes” it supposedly adds a level of bad-assery to your car and thus your life status/penis performance.

Originally, however, it got it got it’s start in racing.  When done properly, it’s supposed to lower the center of gravity of your vehicle, which means you can go around turns at hundreds of miles an hour without flipping in the air like a wayward Pog.

But like I said, it’s mostly a penis thing.  

What is the difference between DVD-R and DVD+R? ¹

You may have never even noticed that there is a difference in the type of blank discs that you bought to burn your files and illegal downloads onto.  You just pop a disc into your computer and burn away.  For all you know that little “minus” is nothing more than a hyphen.  However, when you put in a blank DVD and it doesn’t work, you might start to notice.

Let’s take a trip back in time.  But not too far back, because realistically, how long have DVD’s been around?  In the beginning, there was no industry standard.  Companies were out there competing, hoping that their format would soon dominate the market.  Then they both caught on, and now we just have two types floating out there confusing the innocent illegal downloader.

The DVD-R/RWs were developed by Pioneer and are the most compatible with Apple computers (and obviously Pioneer products).  Technically gobbledegook speaking, “minus” discs only write on one layer of the disc and are generally the cheaper alternative.

DVD+R/RW is more of a Microsoft thing (so, HP, Dell, Sony, Phillips, etc).  The “plus” discs have slightly better storage capacity because it burns on more than one layer, though I’ve never noticed a real difference.  For the average non-geek, you probably won’t either. ² Anyway, this difference does cause the slight difference in price.

That said, I believe that comptuers and laptops and burners that are coming off the line toady are more or less compatabile with both “plus” and  ”minus” formats.   I don’t imagine it being an issue for very much longer, but if you can’t figure out why your DVD won’t burn, check the format, that might be the problem.  It might mean a trip up to Walmart for a new spool.  Don’t worry, 24 Season 1 will still be there when you get back.  

When typing, do I put one or two spaces after a sentence?

Most likely, if you didn’t learn how to type on a typewriter, you have no clue what I’m talking about.   That’s okay, I’m here to make you more worldly.

Originally, after finishing typing a sentence, you would press the spacebar twice before starting a new one.  This is because typewriters and early word processors used monospaced fonts, like “Courier,” which means all letters are the same width.  Tiny little “i’s” take up the same amount of space on the page as “m’s.”  Two spaces helped the eye determine the start of the new thought and made for an easier read.  The only people who need to worry about this these days are usually writers of some kind.  People who turn in scripts or manuscripts still type in “Courier” therefore need to still follow the two space rule.

However, most of us aren’t writing the new Harry Potter (book or movie) are we? With the popularity of proportional fonts, such as “Times New Roman,” this custom is being kicked to the curb.  The eye doesn’t need the help anymore, so all you essay and blog writers out there, keep doing what you’re probably doing anyway: use one space after typing a sentence.

FYI, if you care, I double space after my sentences.  It’s how I was taught and I can’t break the habit now.  It’s annoying to some people who read my stuff, but only Nazis notice.  

I’m bored, especially after reading this POS entry, what should I do?

Read a book.  Or go play outside.  That’s what my mother always told me.  I can’t really help you there.  Most likely you’ll ignore what I advise anyway and go look for porn on the internet. Off you go.   ____

I can cook any recipe you put in front of me and most likely, it will turn out at okay, but if you just wanted a simple boiled egg, I wouldn’t know how to start. In fact, I recently asked my mother in law to do me one.

I think there are a lot of things that you are expected to just know when moving from adolescence into adulthood. Things that it just not occur to people to tell you.

The proper care of wooden furniture. That the kitchen trashcan has to be scrubbed.

Adulthood is strange. Surreal and often uneventful. You start to get used to it and coast through domesticity. And then you realize that your close pins can dry rot of the clothesline.

This, of course, is not to say that these classes are not effective.  I mean, they have had steady attendance since Jane pulled out that step in the morning shows of the early eighties.  The Les Mills has more or less standardized the craze.  Surely they must be doing something right.  That, or we are all sheep.

In determination to lose my spare tire, I committed myself to going to whatever the 930 am class was this morning.  The schedule had the slot labeled innocently as “Fat Burning.”  That doesn’t sound too bad, who doesn’t want to burn fat?

…

Do you know what you have to do to burn fat!?  I don’t either because all the sweat that oozed from my pores has congealed in my brain rendering the class nothing but a blur.  I’ll tell you this though, I hurt.  Sadly this was not the first class that I have ever attended, so one would think that I knew what to expect.

However, I have learned three things that keep me safe in times such as these:

1. Don’t mess with the stay at home moms. They are the veterans of the class.  They have been attending religiously every week for the last several years.  It does not matter their shape or size, do not take their spot on the floor and don’t even think about eyeing their choice stepping block.  Would you walk into a lion’s den and take Simba’s dinner? Didn’t think so.
2. You are not as fit as you think you are. The weights feel light and the steps look low.  But they aren’t.  Ten minutes in you are going to regret your ego telling you that you could handle it.  However, the stay-at-home moms… They are that fit.  Watch them crush you.
3. Stay for the last track. If you want any chance of NOT feeling like a rabid bull picked up with it’s horns and hurdled you into a brick wall the next day, stay for the last song.  This is the stretching track.  The cool kids might feel like they can skip it and leave early.  Remember.  You are not one of the cool kids.  See rules one and two.

The funny thing is, I’m whining and feeling sorry for myself, but I can already feel my body becoming more energetic and revitalized.  Not to mention the gym clothes make me feel productive.  This is the same euphoric yet idiotic feeling that makes me think that I can get up tomorrow and do it all again.

Will I ever learn?

I guess I should look into some spam blockers, ay?  I had been avoiding it, but I suppose it’s time.  Unless someone is really attached to foreign porn?

_____

–noun

spoonerism   

Origin: 
1895–1900; after W. A. Spooner (1844–1930), English clergyman noted for such slips

Ironically enough, these are oddly easy to confuse.

What is the origin of the phrase “mad as a hatter?”

Which means completely mad or insane.

One might think it had something to do with Alice in Wonderland. Or Johnny Depp.  However, these assumptions would be incorrect.  In fact, back in the day Mercury use to be used in the making of hats which effects the nervous system of those in close contact with it often.  It also creates aggressiveness, mood swings and “anti-social” behavior.  One could imagine that someone with these symptoms would appear quite insane, or even mad, perhaps.

One of the more popular references of course would be the Mad Hatter in the afore mentioned book, Alice in Wonderland.

Alright, off you go.  That’s all the wisdom I shall impart this evening.

What is the difference between the words “assume” and “presume?”

These days the two word are used almost interchangeably, however, there is a subtle difference.  To assume means to take for granted without proof whereas presume requires some proof or fact, but not absolute certainty. 

I presume you are the killer because I saw you standing over the body with a knife making stabbing motions.  I assume you bought the knife at WalMart.

How does the refrigerator know when to turn on the light?

Where many people might lead you to believe that the light is manned by a little person, an speedy imp, if you will, this is just not the case.  Whirlpool and others have come up with this ingenious invention so is so genius, so subtle, that most don’t even realize it’s there.  Hence, the wondering.

Behold: There is a special switch on the side the door that is released when the door is opened, creating light.  When pressure is applied to the switch the light turns off.  See diagram.

I think Ellen Degeneres is hilarious, does this make me gay?

Have you perhaps considered that you think Ellen Degeneres is funny because you enjoy when anecdotes are compiled with a bit of buildup and fanfare leading into a fulfilling punchline? Bet you never thought of that  – bet you assumed that it’s just her gayness crossing the little tv signals into your living room encouraging you to run — no skipping — out of the closet “I’m gay, I’m gay, I’m glorious gay!”  It can’t possibly be because the woman is just funny.

Or, perhaps, yes, it means you’re gay.

And that concludes this edition of “Carrie answers a few questions of the universe.”  If you have any questions, or perhaps a better title, feel free to ring in.

This is not something I would normally admit to many people, much less the internet public at large, because frankly it makes me feel like I live in a pig-sty.  But here goes.  Try not to judge.

My name is Carrie, and I have a mouse problem. ¹

I started to suspect foul play a few weeks ago but talked myself out of spotting the mouse poo with my own eyes using a nice heaping dose of denial.  However, last week, I caught a glimmer of this undeniable troublemaker out of the corner of my eye when I was writing. ²  A second and less shocking glimpse  came the next day.  Confirmation stage complete.  Mouse in house.

I start to call around, seeing what my options are for my little problem.  There are apparently two.  Trap or poison.  (Note, there are many sub-options within these two seemingly simple headings.)  And the lovely hairy sounding man on the other end of the phone said that he was happy to come set one or more of these options out for a small fee of $160.  Yeah that’s not going to happen.  Also, I find funamental problems with these two methods of riddance.

Trap.  Traps kill.  I will then have to dispose of the little crushed mangled body of this little being who really just wanted a piece of cheese.

Poison. Poison also kill.  Things that include my rabbit and/or my dog, whom both of which eat anything they can get their noses near.  And even if that didn’t happen and the poison did find it’s correct mark, the mark would then retreat to some unseen, unknown part of the house to die and cause stinkage.

Today I saw him again.  He is much bolder now, which obviously comes when you are comfortable in your new home, so this time much he was closer and looking right at me.  He is so small and very un-repulsive.  Now, not only have I had a run in with Denial, now his friend Guilt has come collapsing on top of me.  

So, I have a mouse.  I have named him Shredder.

I did try to make my own humane trap….
(Though mine looked a bit more like this)

Good news, it works.

Bad news, it caught my rabbit.

So here I am, with yet another furry house mate.

__________

So I sit down with my ever so slightly used gel pen and my ever so slightly used airport-purchase steno pad.  And proceed to stare at it’s mocking blue lines for two days.

Yes.  It has happened.  Again.  Writer’s Block.

But how, one might ask.  I have all these ideas whizzing through my head.  Worlds.  Characters.  Themes.  Gags.  Humor.  Emotions.  All of which I’m sure if I could get onto to paper, the world at large (or at least a decent sampling) would be amazed, or at least entertained.  But they all remain there like shoppers trying to get out of the bottle necked Walmart parking lot on Christmas Eve.

A quick Google search turns up hundred of articles similar to this one.  Particular theories on what causes and what could help cure the elusive Writer’s Block.  Mr. Taylor’s causes are as follows:

• Cause 1: Writers are sometimes not ready to write
• Cause 2: Writers are sometimes afraid to write
• Cause 3: Writers often try to compose in their heads
• Cause 4: Writers often start in the wrong place

These “causes” are fairly straight foward.  Don’t get ahead of yourself.  Don’t micro-manage.  Start broad, then narrow.  Take it one step at a time.  You have to walk before you can run.  Doodle before you can draw.  The usual.

Now, if you’ll refer back to my own list of the exciting locked up things in my brain, you’ll notice that the word “Story” does not appear anywhere.  I have worlds and themes and emotions and people all hanging around.  All the ingredients sitting in my pantry but no idea how to put them together to make a damn good soufflé.  Hell,  I don’t know if I could even manage a box of Jiffy at this point.

David Taylor’s silly little advice points are too vague, too 101, and probably too true.

Perhaps I am doing all the wrong things, but it’s how I’m going to get to write things.  And damn it, one day I will have something better and more exciting than a blog post full of useless comments about not writing.

Now to the favorite part of my day.  Lunch.

And then, the unspeakable happened.  Once asked about her sexuality she said (and I’m paraphrasing here) “Meh, I’d rather not put myself in one of three boxes, thanks though, for asking.”  And now all these above mentioned buzz cutters are back at their computer screens with their boxers in a twist.  ”How could she betray us like that?  I knew she was nothing but a faux-mosexual.”

Jesus, people, let up a little, she’s not a faux-mo, just look at her fingernails.   

Now, LiLo and I are the same age, ² but I came out almost eight years ago.  And eight years ago, things were different.  It might have been exacerbated by where I was living (South Carolina) but there was still a need to draw a line and say, loud and proud, this is what I am, and I am lesbian, hear me roar.  It’s how you found people like you in a world where it still felt like you were the only one like you.  And eight-year-ago me would have been one of those people (complete with buzz cut) up in a uproar about LiLo hiding who she is and not standing up with the united cause and greater good.  But it doesn’t have to be like that.  We don’t need these boxes anymore.  It’s not a requirement to be accepted.  Like who you want to like.  Kiss who you want to kiss. ³

Lindsay Lohan and Samantha Ronson are very quiet about their relationship, but not in a “I’m ashamed and fearful for my acting career” way but in a “Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson, we watch movies on the weekends, boring” kind of way.  Lohan has been the first one out their to stomp for equal rights for everyone and has never denied or lied about her relationship with Ronson.  She found someone that she really likes, who is a woman, and for all intensive purposes, the media has treated them no different than any other celebrity couple.  Well done.  For all the Anti-Lilo blogs right now, here’s a pro Lilo one or you. 

Isn’t that really what the GLBT is actually striving for?  Normalcy and equality? For a group of people who want to be accepted for being different, the GLBT community is the first to ostracize someone who thinks a bit differently than them. However, people like Lindsay Lohan will the be the ones who eventually get us gay marriage, not zealots who just want to cram their one way down people’s throat.  It’s the “she’s one of us” vibe opposed to the slightly more intimidating “I’m most certainly not one of you” message the lesbian camp currently holds.

(And Lindsay, if you’re reading this, for your sake I wouldn’t consider even taking a photo with a member of the male species, especially if there’s physical touching, you will never be allowed back in the club.)

And because we’re sort of on the topic, here is a quote by Samantha Ronson about the recent Proposition 8 passing (and Proposition 2, regarding livestock).

I guess people care more about farm animals than they do their fellow man, that’s really sad to me. Yes, I am glad that the chickens will have more room and better conditions as they wait to die, but I just think it’s frightening that people show more compassion for tomorrow’s dinner than for the chef.

Yup, Miss Piggy and Chicken Little may rest easy, but gay people in Florida and California can no longer get married and gay couples in Arkansas can’t adopt children. G-d forbid a loving family (regardless of sexual orientation) give a needy child a home!

Oh well, I guess one out of four ain’t bad!

Here endeth the soapbox.

_________