Friendship vs. The Big Blue Mess

There's nothing more devastating to friends and family than announcing you've just placed more trust in the words of a stranger than in them. No, not just for candy or a safe ride home, but for important things like "does this make my hair look short?" - the advice, the ego strokes - the things they try to tell you all the time.

See, here's a simple truth - family and friends (the ones you haven't crossed recently) lie. It's their first and most sacred duty after they've surrendered themselves to the fact that they love you or at least will send a card for your funeral. Since you also love them in return, it is your moral duty to return the favor and also lie.

Take for example the recent trip I took with my good friend Anna. As we stood beneath the gigantic cypress filled with pigeons trying to locate a Geocached treasure, a kind bird bestowed a bit of well-digested lunch on us. Anna screamed, I leapt back and immediately began to whine that there was this microscopic spot on my arm. "Beth, are you looking at me?" See, never a good question and as I took a closer look at Anna, I realized no sympathy was going to come my way for this tiny dollop on my arm. The next question, one that caused a bit of a friendship crisis on my part, was "Beth, is it in my hair?" I froze and reviewed my options. I mean, it was REALLY maybe the biggest plop of... well, you get the idea... that I had ever seen on another person's head . I'm pretty sure nothing quite that size has even hit my car. If she were a character on a sitcom, the laugh track would have been cued at this moment. I tried to think of a way I could possibly say "no". I wish I were joking, but in truth I really didn't want to be the one to say "yes". The problem was, I knew I couldn't figure out a way to trick her into sticking her head in the sink in the public restroom. Plus, I may have mentioned I am a dreadful liar - she would have seen right through me. She would never have fell for the ol' "hey, let's get that off your arm and while we're in the restroom, let's do something zany like stick our heads under the faucet. Look I'll do it, too. Isn't this fun?" because it turns out I'm kind of prissy and not particularly spontaneous. She wouldn't have fallen for it.

All of this took place in a split second, but in Beth's Panicked Brain Time, it was around 5 painful minutes before I got out the "yes" bit and proceeded to look around nervously. You see, I was torn between wanting my friend to think the best of herself - that she was bird-poop-free and the thought of how much trouble I'd get in once she figured out she had a bird poo sized beret as head decoration(which would have taken all of a second thanks to the whole can't lie thing).

As further proof - I may have mentioned the time my friend was hit by a car in front of our high school. We were meeting up to run errands, but summer school was in so cars were supposed to obey the school speed zone rules. Julie came up to me plucking rocks from her leg. (I thankfully hadn't seen the accident.) She had been thrown a good 10 feet along the asphalt, but the school officials sized her up and declared that she was good to walk home. Later, my step mother who was a nurse patiently explained that being an oblivious self-absorbed teen dunce was no real excuse for letting a friend walk home after being struck by a car (who knew?) and that just because the teachers let her go was no excuse. Would I dance naked in the trophy case if all the teachers were doing it, too? No, I don't think so. You see, I was held to a higher standard than the morons who clearly ran our school. I digress. As we were walking to her house, she talked about how one of our friends who had also been hit by a car worried about how he might have torn his clothes - she was concerned about this as well, and she was very thankful she hadn't. With each step, her clothes gaped and waved at me, daring me to let on as she told the story. I mean the girl had just had something fairly traumatic happen, she'd been hit by a car, the school had let the driver go without getting his name (this might have been why my parents didn't hold my teachers in high regard) and really who was I to say "yeah, about that clothes thing..." You just can't tell someone who has asphalt embedded in their skin that their clothes are ripped apart in the back. What kind of friend would I have been

See, sometimes you just lie or stretch the truth a tad to avoid hurt feelings. Sure, everyone you know whether they're friend or family is beautiful and smart and talented - maybe to varying degrees, but you love them just the same and that's how you see them - or at least that's how it should be - obviously, there are exceptions and those people should be put on an island for mean people and lose the right to procreate. I'm just suggesting.

Now, in my case it just so happens that all of my friends and family do happen to be brilliant, beautiful and gifted. As a group, they're also fairly supportive for being terrible liars. Bless their hearts. In fact, I tend to get a little suspicious when they become too flattering and the flattery is entirely unprovoked. Do they need something? Is someone about to die? Yes, I'm adorable. Now is grandmother ok? Or maybe they're worried my self-esteem is about to nosedive and they're going to find me rocking quietly

TV vs. East Texas

I have a lot of great reasons I haven’t been writing, most of them boil down to: hangnails, barometric pressure too low, lint on the chair, you understand, but let’s face it – one of the big reasons is that we own a TV. Why am I not outside, milling about, having adventures I could later write about? TV. Chat up a good book? Movie? No, sorry. TV. Want to talk about TV? I thought you’d never ask. How is it I can now find time to write, you ask? Well, I currently don’t have a TV around me. It’s making me a little sad in fact. Could we turn off the camera a minute? I’m having a moment.

My number two reason, which could be the number one reason on any given day, is I own a computer, but this isn’t about the computer, this is about TV. Maybe I’ll vilify the computer at some later date. (HAH! Some days I crack myself up.)

In our lineup of shows which range from Women of Ninja Warrior to the Daily Show and include many rating winners I may be too ashamed to admit I watch is Mike Rowe’s “Dirty Jobs”. We’re not diehard fans, we’ve missed an episode or four, but we’ve seen many a marathon. (Only having to turn it off when the job gets to be a little too "dirty". My personal breaking point happens to be large amounts of swarming bugs in houses.) The show is followed by “Wreckreation Nation” and really, we watch it because it’s too hard to change the channel some nights.

So, what does it take to get a devoted TV lover outside to have something to write about that’s doesn’t come dressed up as a Jumbotron? Combining themes from shows I like with reality (that thing I try to resist). Is that vague? Then how about “plan a weekend away from home in a small town, discover a demolition derby and attend”? And that’s how I spent one of my nights last weekend in a small town called Nacogdoches where the temperatures were in the low 40’s, the venue was mostly open to the elements and sitting on a metal bleacher waving a checked flag.

Every sense was overwhelmed from the sight of the cars, the sounds of the revved up engines, the smells of fuel wafting through the exposition center and the smoke as it billowed out from the cars (well, not every sense – not taste because I tried to keep from licking things (difficult), but had I gotten up the nerve and licked one thing, I’m sure that too would have been overwhelming – I mean, I saw what was on the ground there and am almost 100% certain my tongue would have been in a complete uproar had licking been involved).


My only complaint (aside from no commercial breaks, no slow motion captures of the more dramatic wrecks and being 4 ½ hours away from my kitchen) is that the actual smashing of the cars could have been a little more exciting – the joyful crunching sounds got drowned out by the engines and then absolutely nothing exploded – I thought this was a demolition derby, doesn’t that imply explosions? – not even one single unplanned flame licked any of the cars. Sure, this one time a car came up the bank and then there was that car that turned on its side (yawn), but couldn’t they throw in a few more loud bangs and at least one flash fire? I wasn’t looking for injuries, just some overly dramatic, car crunching wrecks. Although, tires slowly spooling off was pretty good. Still, I was with the rest of the audience as I made “ohhhh” sounds for each really good smash. This completely beat TV – well, except they didn’t condense the best of the best into a 30 minute to 1 hour format and my tush was exceptionally cold.

My hillbilly trifecta was nearly complete - demolition derby, small town - the only thing missing was the beer (yes, thank you Jess for pointing out my complete failure). I gave it some serious thought, thinking about a picture of me, monster truck in the background and my gloves wrapped around a brutally cold glass of some sad little sissy light beer and it was too much to take. I'll just have to find another derby in the summer, I suppose.

For future inspiration, I guess I just need to flip the channel as a means of getting out of the house and coming up with something to write about. Hopefully it will be cheap and involve a tacky t-shirt.

The Second Page

So, I'm obviously stuck - uninspired - what have you and the journal is now hiding under a couple of books I got for Christmas. You know, the one I can't write in because of my First Page anxiety?

Jay had this brainstorm, though. He said I could actually skip the first page and start on a different page. WHOA! You can just skip a page? Come back to it later? It's like starting dinner with dessert.

Hrmm... maybe that will be the inspiration I need? Jot something on this second page and then see what happens? Surely, it can't be that easy.

My Writing Process

I'm not sure what process everyone else goes through when they write; I tend to wait for inspiration, compose it in my head and then try to make it to the computer before it all disappears. That's worked pretty well, except the last few times I felt inspired, it was 3am and I also happened to be using it as a tool to fall back asleep. Writing muses + sleeping muses are a bad combo if you want to put something up on a blog. When I got up that morning, really only hours later, I couldn't remember what I'd been thinking about. In fact, we're now a month away and I still haven't a clue. My hope was that it would just "come to me".

My other speedbump is I tend to rely on things to happen and all the things that have happened lately, I actually can't write about. Dooce has taught all of us that "work" is a taboo, which leaves me with relatives/friends and I'd just end up teasing them to the point I'd get left off wills and not invited to family events or I'd say something that made everyone uncomfortable to the point they'd look around awkwardly and eventually close the page. Err, of course you guys I'm not saying I actually have anything like that to say - this is so hypothetical - like if I "had" something to say about my family... you get it, right? We're still on for Easter?

I bought a journal, since I actually lost mine - a place where I could try to work out my ideas and possibly shape them into some sort of blog entry, but there's just this one problem. The first page. It's THE FIRST. Pressure says I should write something great or memorable on that first page, just in case someone picks it up, because it's, y'know, THE FIRST and what if what I write is incredibly inane. Hell, I know it's going to be inane - some drivel that I try to make worthy of a first page, when it should really be maybe the last page or tucked away somewhere in the middle. Really, the pressure is just too much. I think I'll ignore the fact that it's sitting next to me. Teach it a lesson for giving me such a complex.

So, that's where I am with blogging at the moment. Those are a few of my demons dancing about.

For Kati

Well, now that Anna's gone and patched up the site (and demanded presents), I can't use the virus/trojan/worm thing as my excuse - well, I could... but that would be a little like cheating... and some of you might suspect.

That leaves me with sifting through the mess that is me and trying to extract a story or two. I know I had one last week that I was writing out in my head while driving to and from work and I remember thinking it might work - someone might get a chuckle - and then I actually left the house, did something fun, got a sunburn and the whole thing is gone. This is where Anna would remind me that she encouraged me to get a notebook to jot down my ideas. Now, if I could only remember where that notebook actually went. You see, you can't just write thoughts down on any old piece of paper. I've tried and ended up with yellow bits of wadded up paper around my desk - which now that I look at my desk might not impact the cluttered theme I'm working on too severely.

So, you may have seen the title of this post and said "why is Kati so special?" and really, maybe that's a question for you to sit quietly back and reflect on, but always remember that in your own way you're special, too - a unique little snowflake. Plus, Kati has had a heck of a summer (I'd dare say a year) and she prodded me more recently so I'm feeling a little inspired. (I probably don't feel inspired to proofread, so be ready with your red pens - get something that won't mess up your monitors too badly. You can't actually hold me accountable if you do something wacky to your own monitor. That there is what we call a disclaimer.)

Here we go... (next post) (errr, the one right above this one - you people do read in order, don't you?)

Housekeeping

Well, the Big Blue Mess has a virus. So, if your virus scanner is not NAV, then you're likely not reading this message. Well, McAfee will let you ignore it, but AVG is an angry little antivirus scanner, and you guys can't get past the splash page so you're not even close to being able to read this.

It's hard to get excited about posting nonsense when thinking about the website causes me small aneurysms. Fortunately, I'm not prone to fits and outburts of blood vessel popping rage. No wait, I am. Damn.

Apparently, this has been going on since around the 9th of July. And if I haven't said it a thousand times before, let me say that for the record I do truly believe virus writers should be caned in a public setting. That your soap operas should be interrupted as images of a smug, pasty faced geek is dragged across the White House lawn. I'll even forego the cane and martial arts expert and opt for the guy's (or gal's) high school principle while the girl he was most afraid to ask out looks on from the sidelines.

No, I am not planning to see a counselor about my "anger issues".

The Guestbook Returns

Ok... we're starting fresh by trying out a free Guestbook service. All of the old messages are gone (as far as you can see), but if you still have a hankering for signing the Guestbook, there's that's up and running now. Knock yourself out.

Maintenance & Thank You's!

I want to thank everyone whose giving me such wonderful feedback. It really means a lot to me, although I'm frankly shocked at your bad taste. (It'll be our little secret; I'll never tell another soul) :)

Something that my older four readers had to learn - I'm terrible about editing and reserve the right to edit anything I post for up to 24 hours. I "try" to read what I'm posting before I hit the publish button, but I get mixed results. (Translation: I do a spelling pass and not necessarily a grammar pass. Homonymns are not my friend, but we're working out a small truce.)

Trish, Scott's friend (Hi Trish & Scott!) asked about RSS feeds. I believe they're enabled, but I don't have a handy little icon on the site. I know the feed address is:
http://www.bigbluemess.com/blogs/main/atom.xml
Sadly, that's the extent of my knowledge.

Anna/Seth/April - could you explain in comments how you got the Big Blue Mess on your feeds? I'm personally not very RSS feed savvy and rely on a browser called Flock in order to cheat. Guys, is there an icon I can put on the site that would make it easier?

Maintenance - This morning I'm going to try to upgrade to a newer, sexier version of Blogger. The site may explode, but I guess it wouldn't be a "Mess" if I didn't occasionally blow something up.

Blog Recap

Anna just got me to sign-up for MyBlogLog – a website that tracks your site stats and tries to be for blogs what Flickr is to photographs. I’m still getting the hang of it, but I think it’s got a long way to go before it will get a big thumbs up from me. The thing I’ve found the most interesting is the number of hits I’m getting for one posting here on The Big Blue Mess. It’s something I wrote about my high school reunion and John Kelso, a local columnist. In fact, it’s the only article from a previous month that generates any notice. I’m completely baffled. It’s not that good and it certainly doesn’t say much about John Kelso, so I can’t imagine why it keeps getting hit.

Sure, it could be someone doing a search on John Kelso, but I’ve posted more that included Kelso than just this one article. In fact, I have more about my reunion and John Kelso than just that one post. I guess it could be someone trying to confirm that I really didn’t want to go. Here’s a spoiler for them: I went. John Kelso went. The “guys” tried to entertain him in the hopes he’d write a story. He didn’t. I know, I know, you wanted to catch up on your own after reading the one article 6 times. Sorry.

To catch them up to speed here’s a little recap of my “blog”:
I like comments, I hate comments, comments aren’t so bad, I have forums (see the right sidebar).
I saw the Diana, Princess of Wales exhibit – I was traumatized by the red hat brigade, but the dresses were nice.
I wrote Kelso, I wrote him again, I posted about it, I wrote some more, I kept those to myself.
We bought a house, Jay mowed the yard, and some kid down the street thinks it’s awesome.
Everyone in our neighborhood is named Julie including the men. I suspect they’re part of a witness relocation program. I also suspect they’re serial killers.
I like things, I hate things, I whine about things and on rare occasions my friends throw up their hands and say “wah”.
I like balloons.
I wish I wrote like John Kelso, Dave Barry and P.J. O’Rourke (although I may not have mentioned that yet – well, there you have it).
I’m a “daddy’s girl” and he’d look darn fine dressed as a woman – don’t you dare say otherwise.
Jay is my best friend and the smartest person I know.
My friends are taking a collection to buy me an iPod for my birthday. They’re swell.
I’m also a Texan.

There you have it.

Blog Recommendation

Don't miss Lori's latest:
Play In One Act
A truly funny story about some of the joys you experience when you work for PBS.
While you're there, check out some of her other stories.

Lori, you crack me up!

Forums

I mention forums and behold, I have forums c/o Anna.

I mention tags and I get no tags. Just some guff about switching to another blog host. Sheesh... that sounds like work.

Anyway, knock yourself out. The link is to the side.

Guestbook

Many thanks to Anna for setting up a new feature for Big Blue Mess - a guestbook. I've put a link to the side; the actual link isn't dolled up, but it is functional.

Some random thoughts...

I'm going to tell you a little story. Many years ago Lori had this notion that I should write down my stories, apparently I'd given her a chuckle or two on a couple of occasions. She even kindly made up a list of "my favorite Beth stories" so I had stories to practice on - some I've written up already on Big Blue Mess. Now I was flattered, but honestly I'm not a writer. Note, that's present tense. At best, I'm a dabbler. I write like I speak and willingly abuse accepted grammatical rules. I know writers. People who can really tell a story and have vocabularies that hurt my brain; I do not count myself among those elite. Jonathan followed with encouragement, many links to humorous writing and e-mails that read, "with practice, you could write like this." Finally it was Anna who actually tipped the scales with "we can write like this" and "here is your website to practice". It would be a disservice to my other friends not to also acknowledge their encouragement, but these three people stand-out. They're the kind of people who aren't there just to blow wind up your skirt and make you feel good about yourself. Their opinions carry a lot of weight with me. My step-mother was also particulary encouraging and saved my e-mails suggesting I do the same. (I'd kill to have my original e-mail about Lady Bird.)

Anyway, to make a long story longer. Big Blue Mess solely serves as my practice site for my writing with a couple of notable exceptions. It's my place to vomit on a screen and force my friends and family to read the garbage in my addled head. It's nothing more than that. It's not my pulpit to call down the wrath of my political or spiritual beliefs; it's just slice-of-life stories.

The reason I initially hedged on having comments on is because I wanted the stories to stand on their own and not be an unwieldy discussion covering the globe of everyone's spleen. Trust me when I say I mean that in the nicest way possible. I wanted feedback more than quips. Currently, the feedback on my stories I receive that helps me with my writing only comes through private e-mails; I love those. It helps me get a feel for what people like... what my three think works. It helps even if I can't say that I'm getting any better.

That's not to say I haven't really enjoyed some of the comments/discussions, but it makes me think I may need a forum. I love to quip; I can do it all day; it helps me fine tune one of my actual skills - being snide.

So, if you see sometimes that the comments have gone off, it's because I just want the story to stand on its own. Sometimes I want what I write about to be the most important thing on my website - a website designed to help me improve my writing (and I acknowledge that it's not all good). On those days, I want you to actually read what I said and not rush to get your particular thoughts on toe jam thrown up in the comments section. While I am deeply interested in what you have to say, sometimes it's going to have to wait a few days.

Those are my random thoughts on this site...

Big thanks to those of you who've given me feedback on my writing.

Photo Phollow-up

One more comment - I'm amazed at what people like, based off the handful of comments I received on Flickr. The picture I personally like the best, of the ones that are posted is: http://www.flickr.com/photos/bigbluemess/222506216/in/set-72157594247858055/
It's a picture of a silverback at Zoo Atlanta. I liked it because of the color and of course, the fact that there was about a 3 ft. fence between me and that gorilla. Well, that's more a fact than a "like". Anyway, when I see the picture, I see him looking at me and I see him thinking "white girl, that flash pops off once while you're outside, in the daylight and I'm leaping this insignificant barrier and pounding you."

What separated us was that fence... all three feet - there wasn't a moat and I was really trying to channel Gorilla's in the Mist. "If he charges, lower your head, tuck down and be passive. Make a fist. He'll eat your fingers otherwise. That looks like a finger eatin' monkey." (As we know all red necks like me think gorillas are monkies.)

The picture the handful of them like the best looks to me like any picture you can find in anyone's photo album on any given day. A throw away shot - not even worth opening up.

House pictures should be going up soon - again, no master pieces or apprentice pieces or journeyman pieces among them - just the stuff you'd find in a photo album. They'll be up so those of you who want to but haven't seen the house yet can take a peek. No, we don't have any paintings yet. However, if you'd like to throw in for any of these: Kathy Womack Gallery - Black Gloves prints. I will say thank you real nice like!

Kudos - Props

I just want to acknowledge April and all the hard work she's put into making the website really sizzle. April, you've done a bang-up job! It's better than I could have ever imagined it. I can't begin to express how grateful I am for your taking the time to make the website look so great. BRAVO!

Of course none of this would have ever happened if it weren't for Anna kick-starting the whole thing from hosting the domain to actually making me work on it. Thanks for recognizing my laziness and actually kicking me.

I could hug both of you, but could we just settle for a pat on the shoulder and some "that a girls"?

Work Stories

I just wanted to address some requests I've received about sharing my work stories. I know, I know, I know, you love 'em and people like Ed's Grandma feel like an old family friend by now; however, I just can't do those stories here. At least not the current stories about where I work these days. The best reason I can give is by definition/example:
To be Dooced
Basically, it's a great way to terminate your employment.

So, for the time being satirical bits about super heroes, people hiding in my office and others decorating their yards with fallen street signs will have to be left to e-mail. I'll still goof on them, don't you worry, but it won't be here.

On a positive note, I can't be fired from my family so they're open game as far as I see it.

Whales vs. Wales

An Addendum to the Red Hats Post

Mom, being the careful reader that she is discovered in The Red Hats post that I had named Diana the Princess of Whales. I've edited the post, but I have to admit I feel a bit uncomfortable about it. See, I've never met any sea creatures and those I've met have been short on meaningful conversation. In fact, they're usually headless and preferably deboned with some tartar on the side. Having never conversed with them, I cannot say for certain that the sea mammals didn't proclaim Diana their princess. I mean, surely her humanitarian efforts were known even to those in the seas. So, until the Ambassador of the Oceans clears this all up, I'm going to have to say that she very well could be their princess.

Also, we're dealing with Welsh. I'm sure "Wales", in their native tongue which is kin to Gaelic, isn't really a homonymn of Whales. The actual pronounciation is doubtlessly something you cough up at the back of your throat containing lots of "c's" "l's" and "ah's". Needless to say, I don't feel bad about butchering the spelling.

Nicknames

Ok, since I can't shake it, I should explain it since it will doubtlessly appear in several posts. When you see the name June, that's me. Anyone who knew me in college and had any significant contact with my friend Ernie calls me June to this day. I don't know how Ernie came up with it. He'll be the first to tell you he has a knack for giving nicknames that stick - just ask Bean. I think it started as Bethly Bob in Jr. High School, then as the years wore on it morphed into Bethly June and finally got shortened to June or Miss June. In crowds, if someone shouts "June!" I'll be the first to turn my head. In other words, despite my best efforts the name has stuck. I'm also Boofka or Boof for short, which I won't even explain, but if you see Ju (or Ju Poo Bear) then she might have an answer.

Other nicknames just for clarities sake:

Anna is Ahnner or Ahn or Ahnner Bonahnner - note the ahhhh sound in her nicknames - that's how the A sounds in her real name. If you want to die painfully, by all means make the A sound like you do in the name Ann. If by chance you don't die immediately, you'll endure the longest eyeroll you'll ever be treated to in your life and you'll wish you'd just gone ahead and died - it would have been faster.

Jonathan is Jman, Johnny Quest, JtO, but I call him Jo-Nathan

Kendra is theK (the "K" is capitalized intentionally) it used to be "the K," but Jonathan saw it one day, thought "pish posh" and declared "ah... thek like a brek" and the rest is history.

April doesn't have any known nicknames that we've uncovered, but she asked for one for Halloween so we dubbed her "Lil' Minx" as part of our Pink Ladies bowling outting. Of course, I don't think that name has the same staying power as the others.