Christmas is upon us here in Orlando, and the weather's finally decided to cooperate and be, you know, not 85 degrees. Everyone's wandering around wearing scarves and muffs and it's about... oh, 60, but it's progress.

I've been staring at my tree and willing it to tell me where it wants to be put this year. My cats have already knocked it over THREE TIMES and it hasn't even been decorated yet. This is going to be exciting!

Oh hey there. I am alive.

Thinking about getting into this journal once again. I've been over at IJ for the last year or so, but there ain't no party like an lj party. So we'll see.

The dish: Still in Orlando, still working for the Mouse. Have my own place, complete with two fat cats. Doing pretty well, all things considered!

<3

My intention with this mix was simple: create a mood. It's not about lyrics, although they fit, but it's about instrument and feeling and other pretentious things. The atmosphere in this mix is supposed to be beautiful but creepy - a rotted harpsichord, a faded bouquet. A staircase that creaks only when it's stepped upon, but now it creaks, and you're alone in the house. And you smell her perfume. It's been nearly fifteen years.

But she's not forgotten a thing.

( what's underneath )

As always, please comment if you're taking or if you have any feeback. Thank you!!

Re: The male model industry employing skinnier and skinnier models, as witnessed by the increasing popularity of Stas Svetlichnyy, 6 feet tall, and 145 pounds.

"Designers like the skinny guy,” he said backstage last Friday at the Duckie Brown show. "It looks good in the clothes and that’s the main thing. That's just the way it is now."

"It" looks good in the clothes? I think that particularly off-the-cuff usage of a depersonalized pronoun says everything about the ultimate coat-hanger objectification of models that I could take several paragraphs explaining.

"I'm not really sure if designers are making clothes smaller or if people are smaller now," Mr Nguyen said.

Really? You're not sure? Have you been completely absent from any cultural or anthropological study made in the past ten years?

Full article located here.

It's been an interesting past few days. Firstly, I've managed to hit 23,000 words for my book, which is far and away what I've ever been able to accomplish before. Score! Secondly, as if to mock my success, Fate would have it that I managed to spill hot-from-the-microwave Campbell's soup on my left hand. My hand is now MANGLED. Seriously, I have never been in so much pain in all my life; the hot soup got my entire thumb and the flesh part between my thumb and pointer-finger. I'm typing today for the first time with it, and it's okay, but daaaamn I thought I'd die yesterday. So far I'm refusing to go to the doctor with it; it feels a lot better today so I think that I'll be fine as long as I watch it.

I've decided that I can't see mainstream movies. I tried to watch The Comeback yesterday, or whatever it's called (no, not by my choice...) and had to leave the living room. So sexist, so racist, and I was like "Seriously? Seriously, this is funny?" Whatev.

Which leads us to Whitney's political observations of the moment! ( Click here for politics, or don't click to skip it )

So I thought I owed you guys a little more than commentary on Amy Winehouse's particular brand of crazy.

Things are going well. I've got a new job working for Communication Technology at Disney, which means I've got regular hours and higher pay. It's very weird to be working out of the parks, but I'm global so that means I'm working with all four parks, all resorts, and... well, Disneyland! So odd to be working with people you literally never see because they're all the way across the country. Anyway, it's a good job, and it's given me a lot more free time to decompress, which let's face it, was something I was clearly lacking last fall.

Mom, Dad, Missy, Keith, and their three kids came to see me for a few days. It was a lot of fun, but now I admit I'm a big ball of angst about when I'm going to see Mom and Dad again. They're talking about coming down in November, and I'm like "November? Seriously?" That's such a long time from now, and the fact that I don't have a specific date when I KNOW I'll be seeing them next is really upsetting. I've never been a homebody, but I am close to my family. It's them I miss, not Alabama.

Still, now with having evenings off, I've never been writing more. My short little attempt at a book is now suddenly a real, viable, 20,000 word book that's still going strong. I'm going to be needing some readers later on down the road, and the thought is both exciting and terrifying. I've already made the decision to play editor far before I let anyone else see it, though, putting work out there that wasn't at least half-done is against my style.

But it's a beautiful, wonderful thing to be writing again.

I suppose I could use this space to talk about how I love my new job, how awesome it is to be back on a normal schedule, and how great it is to have TIME to DO STUFF again, but instead, I'm going to bitch about Amy Winehouse's hair.

scuppernong LOOK.
scuppernong LOOK WHAT SHE DID TO HERSELF!
scuppernong WHY
scuppernong WHY, AMY WINEHOUSE
victoriana Amy Winehouse: Because I hate you, Whit.
scuppernong Go to rehab, bitch! >:o
victoriana Amy Winehouse: NO NO NO!
scuppernong those tears you'll be crying won't dry on their own when I'M THROUGH WITH YOU

For serious, Amy. You've been looking rough lately.

So this year has been amazingly good and bad. Wonderful things have happened, and some shitty things have happened. I've been too alone, and I've been too crowded. No middle at all, which is so unsatisfying, but you know what?

I survived it all. It's all behind me. I may have spent the Auld Lang Syne part of the ringing in of 2008 alone at the info kiosk wondering what in the hell I was doing WORKING on this night, but I just had the time of my life at IHOP with all my peeps. Chocolate chip pancakes, inappropriate jokes, and wow. What a fantastic time.

2008's started off well. Exhausting, but well.

I usually do one of these every New Years. Somehow I missed it last year, but eh. SLACKER AM I.

( 2007 Meme )

I usually put my politics beneath a cut, but I'm afraid that I'm too enraged at the moment to care.

To those who think that our government - local, state, and national - has the best interest of the people in mind, I'm afraid that after this morning, I'm just going to have to laugh. And no, this isn't a stab at the GOP in particular, because although I loathe Reagen's legacy, the Democrats have participated in this problem just as completely.

My autistic brother woke up with a swollen abscess in his mouth yesterday. He wasn't seen by anyone until just now, nearly 36 hours later, despite my mother calling over 14 clinics in the immediate and not-so-immediate area. Why?

"Oh, we don't service 'special' adults."

Good to know. It's almost as amusing as the time that the state sent us an official determined to teach my brother (he of the 6-month-old comprehension) to drive. And then it's almost amusing as the time that this state official came back. Again. And again. Every year, just to see if Matthew was still autistic. Yes SIR, state official sir, my brother still EATS WALLPAPER and USES DIAPERS. Yes SIR, it's a remote possibility that next year he'll be ALL BETTER and will be able to hold a job! Because this is America, and everyone can pull themselves up by their bootstraps and become someone!!! It's in our national identity!!! My country 'tis of thee, people!

But if, by chance, you're one of the REALLY BIG MAJORITY of 'special' adult Americans who are unable to hold a job, much less care for yourself, then you're swept under the cracks and forgotten about.

I realize that I'm not going to get a happy ending with this one. But couldn't someone help make it a slightly EASIER unhappy ending?

Remember that coordinator who'd been harassing me earlier in the week? He did it again. Put me on a cart far away from others, got in my face, and demanded to know if I was a snitch.

Oh, I'm going to be a snitch NOW. He's going to be so impressed with how well I snitch. I go in to talk with my manager tonight.

I'm fucking terrified.

I usually try to be pretty honest in my livejournal about what's going in my life, so I feel bad for my recent cryptic entries. The truth is, I was (and am) obsessing over what's going on so much that I just didn't want to dwell on it much here. I think I've reached a point now where I don't feel completely 100% crappy about things, so I'll go over it here.

In the past week, I've had a problem at work with being harassed by a manager, I've gotten both a cold and a boy-that-thinks-he's-my-boyfriend that I'm evidently sleeping with, and I'm in the middle of working a grand total of 85 hours.

( It's been quite a trip. Don't read further if you don't want whining, self-sabotage, and references to sex. )

Follow up to my previous Cryptic Entry...

I went out there. I gave trusting him a shot.

Now I don't know what I'm feeling. It's a good thing that I can't call in to work because it's a money room shift, else I'd spend the rest of the afternoon in a ball crying.

I don't mean to be overly dramatic, and I really am fine. But I don't know what at all I'm doing, and I never react well to that.

I'm tired of being emotionally unavailable.

I'm officially saying "screw it". Trusting someone shouldn't be this difficult.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN everyone! I just found out that I got my internship that I applied for - Come January, I'm going to be working on the Disney website! I'm so excited.

Tonight I'm going to Pleasure Island and CLUBBING IT UP in VICTORY. Wooo!!

I'm quite happy, lately. Not just happy, although that's the simple term for it. Comfortable in my skin would be the best description of it. I feel confident in things I want to do, and what I want to accomplish. I like my work. I like the people I live with. I like my situation - meeting new people with similar interests, similar dreams and ambitions.

Tonight I went to a Rilo Kiley concert and sang along to every word with the rest of the crowd. I met a beautiful boy named Kevin who bought me drinks and made me feel dizzy even when I was dead-sober.

We sang along together all the most important words: I am flawed if I'm not free.

- Livejournal is still slow as the second coming, thanks to shitty internet
- Kids on leashes = HILARIOUS.
- toll roads = not so much.
- have several job interviews lined up, yay!
- am intrigued by the notion that in Florida, evidently you DON'T use the sidewalk as a third lane. Who knew?
- sword fighting with coat hangers is more common than you might think
- am so poor I could cry, but won't, because Disney really sorta is the happiest place on earth
- will never be drinking Malibu Rum ever, ever again, and
- my fear of Nicole Ritchie grows and grows.

The end.

Things I Was Supposed to Do Today:

- Leave Moose with a babysitter at 10:00
- Help Mom go grocery shopping
- Spend some time at a local spa getting my highlights in my hair, a cut, and eyebrows done
- Meet up with both Mom *and* Dad for lunch around 1:00.

Things That Actually Happened:

- Babysitter was hour and a half late
- Mom went grocery shopping alone
- Local spa canceled on me at the last minute, leaving me fighting the Back-to-School kidlets for a hair appointment. Succeeded in getting hair appointment. Also succeeded in getting a hair stylist who thought that "warm highlights" on my deep brown hair is equal to all-over color. I AM NOW A BLONDE.
- Long hair appointment and subsequent horror leads me to miss out on lunch with Dad; had a late lunch with Mom, in which she broke a tooth three days before we're supposed to leave for Orlando
- Had teenage butthole pull out without looking and blam my Jeep. Minimal damage, but maximum RAGE.

Now if you don't mind, I'm going to hide under my bed before lightening strikes me.

Okay, be warned. This is a rant not exactly on politics, but on the media's reaction and presentation of politics. I'm putting this behind a cut tag, so if you click on it, I can't be blamed for any disagreeing opinions.

( Cut for Rant )

And if anyone has an alternative online news source that doesn't kiss the administration's ass, please, I beg of you. Save my sanity and supply it.

This was crossposted to my CDJ.

Bear with me. This is going to be long, and random, in no particular order, and probably bulleted. This isn't everything, in fact I may not even talk about points that were big to some people, but it's what made the greatest impression on me. Oh, and also: CHOCK FULL OF SPOILERS.

( Whit's DH Reaction Post )

Just so ya'll know... I'm going on an LJ hiatus until Deathly Hallows comes out. I was spoiled the last time and that's NOT going to happen again. See you guys after the 21st!

The (current) ABCs of Whit's Music

Acid House Kings
Bonde do Role
CocoRosie
Destroyer
Electrelane
Frida Hyvonen
Girl Talk
Hazey Janes
Immaculate Machine
Johnny Boy
Kinnie Star
Los Super Elegantes
M. Ward
New Pornographers
Okkervil River
Patrick Wolf
Quix*O*Tic
Raincoats
Suburban Kids With Biblical Names
TV on the Radio
Unkle
Voxtrot
White Rabbits
X
Young and Sexy
Zombies

This is just a current list of what I'm listening to, not an all-time.

It's probably really sad that my snobby, pretentious, indie-music lovin', Pitchfork readin' ass is REALLY REALLY EXCITED about the Spice Girls reuniting. There might have even been squealing involved.

And Isiah Washington needs to learn how to stop talking.

Start off by picking your 10 favorite recording artists without looking at the questions below...then answer the questions and post in my 'replies' section :D Then cut and paste and put it in your LJ!

Disclaimer: This is just my favorite THIS VERY MOMENT. This list is subject to change. Like whoa now.

01. PJ Harvey
02. Neko Case
03. David Bowie
04. Sleater-Kinney
05. The Knife
06. Andrew Bird
07. Tori Amos
08. Liz Phair
09. Gillian Welch
10. Rilo Kiley

( The Questions/Answers )

Okay, here's something I must confess. I am absolutely in LOVE with Baked Cheetos. They are my crack, and I've been having an extremely difficult time finding them lately.

Well, I discovered a big bag at the local Walgreens yesterday, and thrilled to be reunited with my beloved crack, I purchased them. The packaging was different, but they were definitely my Baked Cheetos.

I had a few handfuls. Then caught sight of myself in the mirror and nearly shrieked.

My tongue is green. BRIGHT GREEN.

I grabbed the bag to see what on earth might've caused this. It turns out it's some promotion for Shrek 3 - perfectly normally looking Cheetos with God-knows-what on them that turns your tongue green upon eating them.

*sob*

Baking soda + BPAL + sprinkled on the carpet + vacuuming it up is love. *waltzes around her nice-smelling apartment*

So I've been downright domestic lately. I think part of it has been I'm doing an independent study, and I want to avoid it for as LONG AS POSSIBLE, so I'm finding every excuse on the planet to do so. But in the past few days, I've cleaned the apartment thoroughly, I've started packing to move to Orlando, I've made a tomato sauce from scratch using homegrown tomatoes and homegrown basil, and I've made a chocolate cake from scratch (and ohhhh it's good).

In addition to all these projects, I've become addicted to Carnivale (cancelled before its time!) and Skins (AHHH WHEN'S THE SECOND SEASON STARTING!?!?!). Carnivale is this epic, moody, slow-paced show that's intricate and detailed and oh my god, how refreshing is it to have women that are considered sexy that have FAT ROLLS in a tv show? VERY REFRESHING. Skins is this show about a fucked up group of 17 year olds; each episode focuses on a specific kid. I adore all the kids; it's rare to see a group of young-uns so skilled in acting, and while the episodes may initially present themselves as being light-weight "look at the kids having sex/doing drugs", they don't flinch away from the consequences of those actions. Cassie's episode about anorexia is extremely touching. And any show that ends its action-packed season with a musical number deserves my love.

In fact, I may have to make some Skins and Carnival icons. To show my wuv.

I feel better about what happened today. Not great, but better.

I did learn one thing about myself: I turn into a virtual bitch shouting orders at people during a crisis. I was as cold as ice yelling at one person to get some water, yelling at three others to help me move him, yelling at yet another to move his car so the ambulance could pull in...

It wasn't until after the police spoke with me that I even started to shake. So. At least I know I keep my head in a bad situation.

Go team me?

I just got back from Rose administration building, turning in some papers. Right before I walked inside, an old guy on a bike suddenly keeled over and screamed for help. He couldn't breathe very well. I yelled at the people inside Rose to call 911. I told them he was having a heart attack but I didn't know.

I tried to pull him out of the sunlight because it's 96 here, today, and he was sweating and laying flat against ths concrete. He didn't understand me, and he was about 6'1 and dead weight. Picture me wearing my new dress and pulling this guy toward the shade with all my might, which is very little.

And people just stopped and stared. I yelled at them to help me. They just stood there. It wasn't until I started saying "You in the RED SHIRT" that they came forward to help.

I think I kept him from swallowing his tongue. I don't know. He looked dead by the time the paramedics arrived, and they took me and the two guys that helped away (one of the guys who helped - it was his first day working at Rose. Poor bastard).

I'm just really shaken up, right now. I keep thinking of what I might've done to help him better. I don't know. I heard the paramedics say something about sudden cardiovascular collapse.

The irony is that earlier I was complaining about how much things sucked because I had my 8 hour comps today. Thanks for putting things into perspective so violently, God.

I really, really, am so sick of being talked to like I'm a delusional three-year-old when I happen to reply (when asked) that yes, I believe in a God.

I love grad school for many things. The smug condescension of academics is not one of them. It's lovely being free to believe whatever I like - so please stop persecuting me for it, mkay? It's mighty 16th century of you otherwise.

Okay, I realize that I'm in the so-called 'target market' for the Knocked Up movie, but I'm seeing advertisements everywhere for it. And you know what? The more I see of this movie, the more offended I am by it.

Yeah, yeah, Whit's on a feminist rant. I have never liked the title - if there was a pun there, I wouldn't care as much - but the only reason the title is "knocked up" is to illustrate how base and dismissive the humor of the flick is toward the female.

Secondly (and here's my real beef with what appears to be the concept behind the film): so this is going to be some sort of heartwarming romantic comedy where the lazy layabout and the ambitious career woman hook up and she gets pregnant, right? Let me guess - he's lazy, unemployed, and disgusting, but he has a Heart of Gold, and while she's really successful and all, she's also hollow inside, and all her friends think she needs to chill out, and this sweet precious baybee will be just the thing for her! In fact, through a series of funny and life-affirming (and undoubtedly college humor) adventures, she'll learn that the really gross guy who "knocked her up" (ha ha! So funny!) is actually a Really Great Guy underneath it all, and she'll learn that her career isn't as important as other things in life, things that really count!!

Fuck you, movie. I realize that I'm judging this flick by its marketing, but it's a romantic comedy. They're pretty damn easy to judge. You know a movie in which an ambitious high-climbing male and a lazy, ugly, layabout female have a baby together and Fall in Redeeming Love would never get greenlit. And you know why?

Because it's okay - and expected - for a woman to give up her career in a movie because her baby needs a father figure, no matter what a layabout loser he is.

The whole thing just leaves a disgusting taste in my mouth. If the flick is nothing like what I predict, than I take it all back. But really? I doubt it.

So I was bitten by a mosquito just under my right eye. This is pretty minor, really... only I'm very allergic to mosquitos, so I now have no right eye for all the swelling, and for some reason, I now have a black eye too.

I'm just going to tell people that I was in a bar fight. That, and test the strength of my Bare Minerals foundation tomorrow.

Yes, I know tonight is the first half of the season finale. But please, please, please don't IM me or try to talk to me about it because I'm at home, and we don't get the CW here (woe!). I'm going to try to download it tomorrow, but I doubt that'll happen because the internet is so slow here, sooooo I may not get to see it until Sunday.

Spoil cut stuff, is all I ask. Thanks!

(this is crossposted to my GJ).

I've got one friend
laying across from me.
I did not choose him;
he did not choose me.
We've got no chance of recovery,
Joy and hospital,
Joy and misery.

Today I spilled a bottle of magenta nailpolish on my white carpet. How did I get it out, you ask? I did some My Big Fat Greek Wedding style research and discovered that WINDEX got it out the best. Who'd have thunk?

Tomorrow I get to proctor an examination at 8 am for a proff. The proff who gave me the media plan assignment that's been driving me wild in a bad way. Thank goodness this is all over soon.

I miss my cats.

Sam Winchester birthday meme

In honor of the birthday boy, when you see this on your flist, post one of your favorite Sam Winchester quotes in your LJ:

"Wait, there's no such thing as unicorns?"

This is why I'm a bitch who should never have children.

I look at that above-linked community and have to suppress the mocking instinct. WTF are these people thinking?!!? "I'm going to name my son Riven Arthur!!" "I'm going to name my daughter Capulet Montague!" "I'm going to name my son Vlad Livingstone!" "I'm going to name my daughter Joyful FaerieWings Desert Storm Assface!"

Puh-lease. IF I ever have a kid - and that's a big if - I like the names 'Samuel', 'Anne', and 'Mallory' 'Sophie', maybe. 'Hunter', sure. Does that make me a boring person? OR JUST A SANE ONE.

Also, the baby picture at the top makes me want to cringe. BABIES DO NOT = FLOWERS. KTHNX.

RESIST, FUTURE PARENTS! RESIST FRIVOLITY! DON'T BE AN ASS! DON'T MAKE YOUR KIDS LOATHE YOU FOR ALL ETERNITY!

I was of poor folk, but my mama had a rabbit fur coat...
Jenny Lewis

I was thinking about writing something personal the other day. I can write fiction upon fiction of characters that don't exist, but sometimes coming up with a subject matter for something that has no basis in another world is difficult.

( And then I remembered Easter egg hunting at Mary Helen's home every spring. )

I spilled pesto on my blouse and now have a big green spot on my boobs.

I ROCK.

On a complicately unrelated topic, people are stupid. Like, seriously stupid. I no longer believe that people evolved from monkeys.

I think we're still monkeys.