Culture Clash

April 1, 2005 - 12:00am -- swingbug

I've always been amused by pocket cultures - the cultures of very small groups. For example, the culture of a family or an office or a particular group of friends, or even of a town. (You can't live around The People's Republic of Davis and tell me that it doesn't have its own subculture.) It's the little inside jokes, language refinements, and social rules that makes a group of people unique, that make them belong to each other in some sense.

Why Shannon is Not Martha Stewart

March 27, 2005 - 12:00am -- swingbug

It seems like everybody has that one attempted holiday meal that they never live down. Once at Thanksgiving my Uncle Steve put too much milk in the mashed potatoes. We all graciously thanked him for bringing the Cream of Wheat amid peals of laughter, and not a Thanksgiving goes by now that we don't recall this event as we pass around the mashed potatoes.

My spectacular blunder shall be known as The Coconut Chicken Cake Incident of Easter Dinner, 2005.

Lyrical Interlude

March 25, 2005 - 12:00am -- swingbug

"I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
'Cause these words are my diary screaming outloud
And I know that you'll use them however you want to"

A lyric to song that's getting played way too much on the radio right now. I don't even know who it's by and I'm not over the moon about it, in general. I like that little patch of it though.

Catching Up With Myself

March 21, 2005 - 12:00am -- swingbug

On Saturday morning I woke up to dreary light. I rolled over and stared at my alarm clock, willing the numbers to come into focus. After a week of early days at the office, I'm not quite sure where I'm supposed to be just yet. 7:00 am. Field work today? Think think think. Slow moving gears turn and click. No. Saturday. Sleep in? Think think think. No. Ballet this morning. I smile.

A Day in the Life

March 15, 2005 - 12:00am -- swingbug

On Saturday my coworker left a message on my machine. She said we'd been cleared for field work on Monday, so please show up at the office at 6:30 am and to call her if I had a problem with the time. Maggie and I are friends. She knows all too well that I have a problem with anything before 8:00 am, as a general principle. It's not her favorite time of day either. I grimaced and set my alarm for 5:40 am. Ug.

This Blog is Brought to You by the Number 6

March 10, 2005 - 12:00am -- swingbug

Yesterday I sent out six emails to six people I hoped would come on board with my literary project as editors. Some of them were real long shots. It feels rather like inviting the popular kids from school to your birthday party when you know you're not cool enough to hang out with them.

This morning, when I logged into my computer and checked my email, there were six responses, lined up like little ducks in row. I was literally frightened to open them. I closed my eyes when I clicked on the first one, preparing for the rejection letter.


A Good Feeling

March 9, 2005 - 12:00am -- swingbug

Tonight I finished a poem that has been floating around in my head and scrawled in bits across my journals for last few months. (I'm not posting it here so don't ask. If you want to read it, you'll have to do it the old fashioned way -- on a piece of paper I hand to you.)

I think it's good, but it's a poem so really, who can say? It is what it is and the best that I can hope is that it runs up to someone else and sucker-punches them in the gut. Writing poetry is rather like being the proud parent of budding bullies.


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