Planning Ahead

… following Belle of the Carnival’s lead, I’m writing and posting my blogging obituary.  Read more about this exercise in “what-if-ness” here

My Pretend Obituary As A Real Blogger

Ally Bean, guiding light of the blogosphere and quiet voice of sanity in the real world, has passed away peacefully at her home while reading blogs in her Google Reader.

Ms. Bean first came to the world of blogging in 2004 when she decided to keep a personal blog of her own.  Said blog was filled with much flapdoodle and twaddle.  This was a tradition she continued in all her subsequent blogs– taking care to not take herself too seriously.

In the real world Ms. Bean was a tireless advocate of all things bloggy.  In her early days of blogging, she spent lots of time explaining yet again to the uninformed masses what a blog was– and where it was– and why everyone should read hers.  Which is to say that Ms. Bean talked to concrete walls quite frequently back then.

Later as blogging became more mainstream, Ms. Bean helped many people start their first blogs.  She was always willing to talk of cabbages and kings of html and links.  She was more than happy to explain the details of her experiences in various blogging platforms as well as to commiserate about the suckiness of comment trolls and content thieves.

In later life when asked about her contributions to the blogosphere Ms. Bean demurely suggested that as a warm, down-to-earth, quirky blogger she had reached tens of tens who considered her posts to be amusing, insightful & informative.  She wryly noted that she did not reach a single, solitary person who had any interest in paying her for her work.

In lieu of flowers Ms. Bean asked that comments be placed on her blog, The Spectacled Bean.  She also suggested that everyone who keeps a blog and reads this post should do this same thing i.e. write your own blogging obituary.  And then link back to me [no, wait… I meant to say] this post [wait…] obituary.  That’s it: link back to this pretend obituary.  Please.

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After I posted the above, Mike, who is Notoriously Nice, tweeted me the link to Tombstone Generator.  Here’s what I made for my pretend blogging grave.  😉

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In Which My Parking Is Duly Noted

Let’s discuss this, shall we?

•  I found this note from Cranky McCrankerton taped to the windshield of my car, a small two door coupe, when I walked out of my doctor’s office after an appointment.  Beautiful handwriting, no?

•  I remember parking beside Cranky McCrankerton’s vehicle, a huge van.  It was to the right of me.  I had to be very careful not to hit it as I pulled into the last spot available in the compact parking lot that has only one way in & out.

•   I had parked my car at a slight angle because I was accommodating the car already parked to the left of me.  That car was accommodating the car that was parked illegally in the spot to its left.  Beyond the illegally parked car was grass, the end of the line, nowhere else to go.

•  I believe that the intent of this note is to criticize me and what Cranky McCrankerton believes to be my sloppy parking job.  Lovely use of sarcasm, no?

•  I was aware that I had left a tight squeeze for Cranky McCrankerton, but felt that it was ok because:  all the spaces in this parking lot are very narrow;  and because I know that my doctor’s receptionist is a stickler for being on time— and I fear her wrath more than any anonymous van driver.

•  From this note I learned that Cranky McCrankerton is a flexible, able-bodied human being capable of entering his or her van from either side of the vehicle.

•  This fact suggests that I might be incorrect about my initial assumption re: the intent of this note.  In which case, I must conclude that this is a thank you note to me from Cranky McCrankerton.  Very succinctly worded, no?

•  So what do we think?

  1. Was this note– readable and polite as it is– really necessary?
  2. Do we think that it is possible that Cranky McCrankerton has lots of issues in his or her life?
  3. Should I feel bad about mildly inconveniencing someone who drives a vehicle that by its very size is always in the way?
  4. Tonight, when saying my prayers, will I include this anonymous person among my blessings for giving me the most unexpected laugh of my week?

… as usual, answers & discussion in comments below.  

Speaking Of Archetypes

“If you can’t say something good about someone, come sit next to me.”

~ Alice Roosevelt Longworth

~ • ~

‘Tis the season of… meeting and socializing with lots of different, unique people.

So we’re sitting at home discussing where we’ve been and Zen-Den, who is not at all fluent in archetypes because he did not major in English in college, asks me:  What’s up with X?

I explain to him that she considers herself to be a Possibilitarian.  That it’s an archetype.

And he counters with: that’s the most ridiculous term I’ve ever heard– you mean, someone who doesn’t actually do anything, just talks about what is possible?

I tell him that’s the gist of it–  someone who focuses on aspirations.  Who thinks and talks about what might be.

A dreamer with a fancy vocabulary.

He nods in amazement.

Then Z-D, who doesn’t usually drink very much, asks me:  Do you suppose if I drank more alcoholic beverages more often I could call myself a Chillaxatarian?

I tell him that I’d refer to him as such.  And that he could definitely get X to refer to him as such.  And that by doing this he’d have his own, very special, archetype.

A goofball with a bottle of beer.

He nods his approval and then wanders off to the frig to get something more to drink.

And so, with that, a new archetype was born.  One that encompasses all that is relaxed and beer related.  One that you know is bound to be popular.

~ • ~

Hallelujah and pass the brewskis, there’s a Chillaxatarian in our midst!

Too Soon

Christmas in the post-War United States

Image via Wikipedia

Yesterday I went to the hair salon to have my hair highlighted and cut.  Someone had decorated the salon for Christmas already.  Everywhere.

OH MY.

Some of the decorations I recognized– like a fake pine garland with bulbs and bows draped over the top of the mirrors.  I recognized the canned Christmas songs playing endlessly.

But I couldn’t figure out what the large objects suspended from the ceiling were– nor why they were hanging over each stylist’s work counter.  In their way.

J, my stylist, saw me looking at one of the large Christmasy objects and said:  “You don’t know what that is, do you?”

Me:  “No.”

J:  “It’s a Christmas tree, fully decorated with bulbs and icicles, hanging upside down.  The ornament on the top– or bottom depending on you perspective– is supposed to twirl around in a circle all the time.  But mine’s broken right now.”

Me:  “Huh?  That’s… well– OH MY!”

J:  “You did a nice job of saying something pleasant.  Most people aren’t that nice about these trees.”

Me:  “Why do you have them anyhow?”

J:  “The owner was an interior decorator before he did hair.  He thinks that all this Christmas decorating is stylish and trendy.  He thinks that it’s clever.”

Me:  “Huh?”

J:  “I know.  Don’t even try to think about it.  It’ll make your head explode.  It’s ugly and it’s too soon.”

Me:  “Yes it is.”

After paying for my highlight and cut, I gave J a big tip.  She’s going to need all the help she can get to make it through a holiday season with an upside down rotating Christmas tree dominating her work space– and confused, outspoken  customers commenting on her boss’s stupidity cleverness.

OH MY.