Help me be the best Palin in NJ.

I apologize for being short with you, my two or three faithful wordpress readers.  The last several weeks have been hectic (Did I just say that?  Ugh.  I am becoming a cliche.) for me, as I’ve spent most of it coaching the recreation dance team I started in my town two years ago.  I don’t receive any monetary compensation for the countless hours I devote to choreographing, supervising, costuming, publicizing, set and stage designing, show coordinating, and shameless sponsorship begging.  Still, the eleven 13 and 14-year-old girls I work with make me feel morally rich when they thank me for the time I spend on and with them.  I’ve been to their apartments, met their parents (the ones who show up), heard their stories, laughed with them over things I thought I was too “mature” to find amusing, and cried for some of them once I was back in the solitude of my car.  (If you want to read more about the dance team, visit www.freewebs.com/lodirecdance)

I’m so proud of their Halloween performances, but it’s now time to focus on mine.

I THOUGHT I was being original and inventive when I decided to be Sarah Palin for Halloween.  I can do a passable Sarah Palin accent thanks to the amount of time I’ve spent mocking her, and I’m relatively her height and weight.  I thought I really had something with that idea.  Well, articles like this one http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/uselection2008/sarahpalin/3259271/The-Sarah-Palin-look-is-Halloweens-must-have.html have helped stick the pin in my delusional little bubble.

Yeah.  Guess who else is being Sarah Palin for Halloween?

EVERYONE.

Well, that is NOT going to work for me.  If I’m going to dress as Sarah Palin, I have to be the best damn Palin in New Jersey, or at LEAST at the nightclub I’m going to on October 31.  I’m assuming that I still have a shot at setting myself apart from the crowd of “sexy Palin chicks” in the good ol’ Garden State by being somewhat witty and intelligent.  And what’s the best way to convey political satire on Halloween?  Yep.  The T-Shirt.

If you don’t live in New Jersey, feel free to borrow my ideas, but at least throw me an opinion first.  I’m planning on wearing a black pencil skirt, a hot pink, short sleeved blazer (all I have and I’m not spending more money), platform, peep-toe pumps, a wig I nabbed at 12.99, a light up USA pin, the trademark glasses, and my secret weapon…the black, form-fitting tank top I’ll have on under the blazer.  During the costume contest I plan on taking the blazer off to reveal the masterpiece that will be hiding underneath. 

All of the following phrases are my own unless otherwise noted.  PLEASE, let me know which you think are the best for a Palin Halloween costume.  Also, any suggestions would be appreciated.  I have to get this costume ready by Wednesday, because after then I’m busy with the girls again.  (And excuse any typos.  I’m too tired to be captious right now, so I’m hoping you’ll be kind and focus on what’s important right now.  My T-Shirt.)

I should add, my dear Cavie is being Joe the Plumber. 

Which phrase should I put on my cami?

1)  Best Ass in Alaska

2) I Put the Ass in Alaska

3) I Put the Ass in AlASSka   (notice intentional spelling error)

4) I put the CUTE in exeCUTivE

5)  exeCUTEive branch          (again, notice intentional misspelling)

6)  Winking my way to the top   (*Inspired by Hooters shirt “Flirting my way to the top”)

7)  My Foreign Policy:  Valentino, Prada, Louis Vuitton

8)  Joe the Plumber cleans my pipes   (*That one’s my mom’s.)

9)  Unlike evolution, my boobs are real!

10)  My boobs are real.  Evolution’s not.

11)  These are real!  (across chest)  Evolution’s not!  (lower or on back)

12)  You betcha they’re real!

 

Help.  Thanks.

Paper Snobs, I’m not skeered’a you!

This post was originally written as a comment on Lucy’s blog, which I love.  It’s was my reaction to this post: http://acommonbook.wordpress.com/2008/09/13/who-is-a-writer/

 

After accidentally hitting post before getting to truly finish my point (yes, I AM always that long-winded), I decided to repost my comment as my own blog. 

 

Last night, I told Cavey (my affectionate name for my boyfriend) about the existence of my wordpress blog, and asked if he would like to read it.  I stole him away from ESPN for a few, precious moments and watched intently as he read my introduction to the wordpress community.  His first reaction was, “It’s good.”  That overwhelming dose of positive reinforcement was immediately followed by, “Lots of writers don’t like you guys…you bloggers.”  Well, lucky for him I was already partially sedated from my chamomile tea and my new Jodi Picoult novel, so I didn’t claw into him too ferociously.  Poor Cavey, he didn’t realize he was being insulting.  After all, he was just repeating a sentiment that he’d obviously overheard on none other than…a sports show. 

 

“What do you MEAN writers don’t like bloggers?” I asked.  “That’s insane.  That’s like saying dancers don’t like ballerinas.  Bloggers ARE writers.” 

 

I really was completely naive to the fact that many professional* (paid) hard-copy writers feel that bloggers like you and I are stepping on their toes, invading their territory, and generally just wasting our own time.  A little Yahooing on the topic and I realized Cavey was right!  Many writers* (the non-blogging type) really DON’T like us! 

 

I don’t get it?  Why isn’t blogging accepted and respected?  The reasons I found aren’t doing it for me.  I’m not even willing to see the other side; which is odd for me since I’m usually very open-minded.  The right to express oneself through writing isn’t found in some exclusive, gated community to which one has to prove him/herself to gain admission.  As long as people are free to speak, I should be free to write.  Here are some of the reasons the Paper Snobs want to shut down the Cyber Scribes. 

 

1.  “The CSs lack accountability for the topics they choose to discuss.  They can “get away” with misinforming the public as well as disguising their own slant, influence, and personal agenda as the supposed facts.”

 

Hey, buddy, how about the idea of readers sharing some of the responsibility?  I doubt very much that many people here on wordpress are petitioning for their blogs to replace textbooks in schools.  We’re mainly catering to an adult community of writers who CHOOSE to read what we post.  If I saw a blog posted and it said that there was a threat of toxic mercury poisoning from eating zucchini, you think I’d throw all my fresh garden greens into the garbage?  No!  Because I DON’T BELIEVE EVERYTHING I READ.  And if I did?  That would be my own fault.  I’m not just skeptical about information found in blogs; I’m skeptical about information published in well-known newspapers as well.  Are the PSs really claiming that they’re always well-versed in the topics they cover?  I’m somewhat of an animal (especially American Pit bull Terrier) activist, and I rarely find that the journalists working for press do their homework before reporting.  I recently read an article claiming that a “pit bull” attacked someone and it weighed well-over 100 pounds.  That seems odd to me, because a real APBT would NEVER weigh over 65 pounds, and even THAT is heavy.  I’d bet that the reporter in question couldn’t pick a pit bull out of a lineup of true APBTs, Dogo Argentinos, Cane Corsos, Boxers, Staffordshire Bull Terriers, Ca De Bous, Patterdale Terriers, and American or Alapaha Bulldogs.  (Can you?  Try it at http://www.pitbullsontheweb.com/petbull/findpit.html) I’ll BET the journalist in question just took the word of the eyewitness who called the dog a pit bull without doing any research of her own.  Now how’s that for accountability?

 

2.  “The CSs have no credentials and their writing is sub-standard, making the writing profession as a whole look like a joke.” 

 

That’s just silly.  Many bloggers DO have a strong list of credentials, and even most who don’t can hold their own with a keyboard OR a pen.

Furthermore, we’re not out there holding protests in front of print-book stores trying to steer potential purchasers away from the newest paperback.  We’re here, online, whenever a reader CHOOSES to find us.  I didn’t know that Penguin or any of the other pub. companies hold a monopoly over written freedom of speech! 

 

And honestly, if we’re all such crappy writers, why are the PSs so bothered by our existence?  If the PSs believe that their superb brand of writing caters to an intelligent and discriminating audience, why oh why would they think said audience would stray and begin reading (gasp) BLOGS?  Hmmm…something for the PSs to chew on after they remove their feet from their mouths. 

 

3.  “We PSs have had to work hard to get where we are.  It isn’t fair that these CSs are calling themselves writers even though they didn’t have to go through what we did to get here.”

 

I had to go through quite a lot to get to wherever ‘here’ is.  I had to get certified as a teacher, complete a separate four year degree, overcome many personal obstacles, and spend countless hours writing dozens of blogs that not many people ever saw before getting my first loyal reader.  I wrote and edited and reedited those little known blogs while holding a full time job and balancing the social, familial, and romantic aspects of my own life.  As is the case with many bloggers, we are teachers, x-ray technicians, accountants, nurses, editors, lawyers, assistants, counselors, publicists, realtors, small-business owners, etc. etc. etc.  And fact is fact; most of us are NOT receiving the same notoriety that print authors receive, so we’re hardly stealing anyone’s thunder.  I deal with similar snobbery when I tell people I teach hip-hop dance to a group of middle school girls.  I have no credentials to do so, but as most bloggers, I do so for FREE.  I do so because there is a DEMAND for me to be there.  I do so because no dance group would exist in town if I hadn’t started one.  Do I have any credentials?  No.  Am I trying to choreograph for Dancing with the Stars?  No!  And you know what…if someone felt that I was good enough to do so…it shouldn’t matter if I’m credentialed-up enough or not!  Ability is ability, and while I have a great deal of respect for the publishing process and how difficult it is to get a book in print, some of us simply do not have the hours available during the day right now to go through it! 

 

I hope that this comment will serve as something more than a rant to at least one person who reads it.  Fellow CSs, if you feel that any of my points are valid, please feel free to use them in OUR defense.  I’m not turning my back on books.  In fact, I’m devouring Change of Heart four chapters at a time every night before bed.  Still, I truly enjoy plopping in front of my PC when I return home from work and reading the refreshing stories, opinions, and musings of all of YOU…my fellow WRITERS…here on wordpress.com.

 

I’m so happy I’ve found a new favorite writer to add to my list:  Andrew Sean Greer (pleeeeeeeeeeease, people, read Confessions of Max Tivoli, you will thank me), Jodi Picoult, Alice Sebold, Emily Giffin, Jessica Brody (The Fidelity Files…girls, you just GOTTA!), and Lucy (http://acommonbook.wordpress.com).   A recent prop to me in one of her latest postings called a comment I left for her “inspirational”.  That means one of my favorite writers called a comment I sent to her INSPIRATIONAL!  If that’s not reason enough to love the immediate connections we make through the wonderful FORM OF WRITING that is blogging, then I don’t know what is!

 

Cyber Scribes unite!  Tell those Paper Snobs (and by that I mean offense only to the actual SNOBS of the print-publication world) that it’s deductive reasoning!  It’s eighth-grade math!

 

You go and tell those Paper Snobs that it’s a simple matter of logic through categorical syllogisms.  Bloggers are writers.  I am a blogger.  Therefore, I am a writer. 

 

Makes sense to me.

First impression time…

How did I get here? 

Honestly, I don’t think it’s a very romantic story.  I was Hooing around, and I kind of just ended up on word press.  Hooing as in Yahooing…my preferred alternative to Googling.  Not Hooing as in whoring…my preferred alternative to chastity.  I don’t have anything formally published, unless you count my Myspace blog, which nobody really reads.  (Most of my contemporaries are quite busy planning elaborate parties for their one-year-olds or taking online “About Me” surveys that later show up as bulletin messages.  It’s hard to get a real, devoted reader.  Thankfully I do have a few.)  Still, I really love writing, and being that in real life the closest I’ve gotten to my dream of becoming an editor is red-ink raping sixth grade compostition papers, I’ve decided to try to make a name for myself as a blogger.  Even if that name turns out to be talentless, opinionated jackass.  Any press is good press.  Ha.

So here it is.  A string of repetitive, declarative sentences that I would crucify my students for using, but now I understand that sometimes there’s just no other way. 

I’m a twenty-eight-year old woman.  I’m not married, and I don’t have children…but I’m not really fixating on that.  I mean, it’s not like the second thing I said about myself when making my introduction to an Internet full of strangers was that I’m not married and have no children!  No, it’s not like that at all!  Ummm.  I have a boyfriend who, despite riffs and tiffs that many couples go through, has been a great addition to my life.  He sees me in a way I’ve never really seen myself, and for that I’m both humbled and grateful.  All of those nice things I just said should not lead you to believe that he and his caveman ways are in any way safe from being the topic of many a future post. 

Enough about him.  Back to me.  So anyway, I am inclined to say that other than American…since this is where I was born, my ethnicity is Italian and English.  However, I’ve learned throughout the years that most people would refer to me as Italian and Jewish.  I always thought Jewish was a religion, and since I’m not religious, it really isn’t right categorizing myself as such.  Silly me.  Continuing, I’m an animal lover and a vegetarian.  My compassion for the furry, feathered, and scaled rarely extends to the fur, feather, and scaleless unless said biped is elderly, sick, or very young.  I teach middle school English.  It’s my sixth year.  I feel that it’s aged me severely, and I don’t mean in the worldy, mature sense.  I hope it’s not burnout.  I don’t know exactly how teachers are supposed to act or who they’re supposed to be outside of the classroom.  Yet somehow I just know that my actions and thoughts don’t line up with whatever standard teacher behavior is.  I hate the idea of decorating with apples.  I like to wear short skirts and have been known to go heavy on the Mac eyeliner, but only after 3:30.  I think lots of the cute little projects other teachers organize for their students are lame.  I dance like a fourteen-year-old girl from Harlem, and I do so publicly.  I hope I’ll never wear a brooch.  Ever.  I am strategially defiant in the most passive aggressive way imaginable.  I have a problem with people who abuse any type of authority.  Which means in Smalltownville where I live, I pretty much have a problem with everyone with authority.   I’d like it to be known that I’m not into dinner parties and jewelery parties and tuperwear parties or anything that involves putting on my fake voice and feigning interest in the paint samples other women are perusing in pursuit of their perfect foyer color.  I don’t fucking care.  Sometimes I think I’m antisocial and I need to get help.  Sometimes I think I just need to get out of this town.  (I’m not naming names or places just yet.  I don’t want to insult anyone.   I said I’m passive aggressive, not rude.)  I have been called flaky for my out of nowhere rotations of interests and obsessions, but there are just some things in life that you need to change occasionally or nobody will want to be around you.  First is underwear, second is socks, and third is interests.  I contradict myself sometimes, but I think it boils down to the fact that not many people are, over the years, consistent in every aspect of their personalities.  I’m not a statue, and if I want to have a change of heart I will.  I’m not going to allow myself to be typecast.  (What?  I can’t use jargon that implies I’m an actress in my very own blog?  Well that would be tragic.  If I can’t be self-important here, then where oh where could I?)  A little skitzo is better than static as far as personalities go.  At least that’s what I think. 

I usually only write to vent, which is kind of tragic.  It’s a shame that something I enjoy so much only happens when I’m pissed off. 

Wait.  I’m always pissed off.  Guess it’s not that tragic after all.  If you’re still reading, I’m assuming that means you’re with me on some of my opinions.  Maybe I don’t have to be alone in this head of mine after all. 

It was nice to meet you.