The Partial Summer To Do List

Schedule Dentist Appointments -- Check.

Clean Lawn Furniture -- Check.

Yoga every morning -- Check.

Twitter & convince everyone to join Twitter -- 1/2 Check.

Why and Later Poetry Reading/ Alicia’s Voice Benefit Yoga Classes Promo -- 1/2 Check.

Two Review review -- 1/2 Check.

Puppy Playdates.

Puppy Classes & Training.

CheeBurger CheeBurger date w/ FD.

Shop for Mother’s Day, Father's Day, and birthday cards.

Why and Later Poetry Reading/ Alicia’s Voice Benefit Yoga Classes.

Revolver din-din with Car, FD, me, and a special guest.

Rilo Kiely w/ Stokey!

CTLT Clicker Training Sessions.

Cedar Point for my bday! Yay!

June 18 Alicia’s Voice Golf Outing – JOIN US!

Harbor Grand meet-up with KA. Yay!

Visit families and friends!

ENG 110 syllabus and lesson plans.

READ (about 150 books / 1 down) & post book reviews.

WRITE (as many essays or poems as possible.)

WATCH TV.

WATCH MOVIES.

Catch Up on Gossip Blogs & FAFA.

Nap.

Do “things” not on any to-do list (i.e. be adventurous and spontaneous!)

OMG, How could I miss all this Britney?

I can't tell yet if I'm happy or sad about not having a clue what BS has been up to...

I really miss my Fafa time...Seriously, why must I work?

But soon enough I'll be back, supporting the paparazzi, while Bleu sleeps at my feet.

Public vs Private

Lately I've been thinking.

And that always gets me into trouble.

Or lands me in my therapist's office.

But I can't stop thinking about blogs, Facebook, and all these other Web 2.0 apps that constantly make it easier and easier (or more and more tempting, I should say) to make private things public. Really, where is the line to be drawn? I say many personal things on this blog, but I hold back what I feel I need to.

Does that make me less honest to my readers?

(I think I'm pretty darn honest...)

And how do I know what I should hold back?

(When I hear an inner voice say, "No..."?)

I'm really cautious about my online life. I mean, think about how "public" the internet is. I could walk outside right now, completely naked, and maybe a few neighbors would see me. Well, definitely the smokers across the street who practically live on their porch. But if I posted naked pictures on the internet BILLIONS of people would see them.

That really freaks me out.

I think it's only fair to myself and my loved ones to be selective about what I post and very thoughtful about how I represent myself in my posts.

Seriously, I've gotten in enough trouble (especially with my father-in-law! LOL!) for being misquoted by Scene magazine who didn't put the word "c-u-next-tuesday" in quotes to show I didn't say it but some girl in a Fafa league I was in did.

I couldn't imagine what would happen if I voiced some things that are really personal and maybe not-so appropriate, in terms of family, work, friends, or society.

And why do we feel this need to make our lives so public now through the internet? Is it for community building? Or is it to show off, to feel like we're special and should be heard? Maybe a little bit of both or something else? What you fellow bloggers and Facebookers think?

I'm still thinking.

My brain kinda hurts.

You Know You've Been Wanting to Do It for Fafa Points!

For Real Sick. Gross. But with a Sunny Disposition.

For the past three days I've been out of commission with the flu. No fun.

I missed out on some really important plans: I love you, Noodles.

I am, however, caught up on The Hills and all my previously recorded shows on Tivo. I also had time to finish one horrible book not worth mentioning and begin one that is worth mentioning but not right now.

I might be sick, but I still have my ability to create suspense.

(The hint, though, is this: FD and I might be getting a very special Christmas present this year, and NO, I'm not pregnant.)

Being that I couldn't take another day of lying around, I got up and decorated our Christmas trees in my PJs as well as strung my Hello Kitty Christmas lights around the windows in my office. I've been rocking out to some Christmas classics as well as new Christmas tunes by Aimee Mann and Sufjan Stevens. If you don't have the Christmas box set of his, it's a MUST BUY.

Decorating and singing along to "We Three Kings," I felt pretty good. But I now, as I write this, I'm feeling tired again.

Dude, I hate being sick.

Two things I've been thinking about. Real quick.

The movie The Fountain sucks. I think it's too hippy-ed out for its own good, so much so that it distracts from its overly contrived message and acid-trip cinematography (that is at times lovely). FD and I watched it last night and had a huge discussion about it right afterwards and when we were trying to go to sleep. I'm too tired to give an in-depth review of it. But I'm totally sick of these movies that end and nothing happens, nothing is resolved or the ending is so indie it's all symbolic. Seriously, what's up with that? I told FD I'd rather watch Superbad or Knocked Up any day over this horrible shit these hipster directors call movies. Someone, please recommend some quality indie movies to me that disprove my skepticism. I like I Heart Huckabees and The Royal Tenenbaums. Wristcutters: A Love Story and The Science of Sleep look good, but am I going to be disappointed again? I guess when you're as smart and skeptical as me and FD, blockbuster movies are best movies for us to watch--we know what we're going to get, and, sometimes, they're even better than expected like Transformers...I guess I just like music more than movies. I might like TV more than movies too...I'm sure I'll revisit this issue again soon.

Second, Christmas shopping has begun. This year I'm ahead of schedule, but I still have a quite a few presents to get. My goal, usually, is to get loved ones what they want from their lists. I don't like to stray too much because when I have I've been broken-hearted by the initial-frown-before-the-faux-smile expressions. However, when I do deviate from the list, I try to go homemade and/or independent. Here are some BOSS sites you might want to check out for your loved ones:

Lemon Cadet: Rockin' the Bean, Bunny, and Yeti goods for kids, ladies, and men since 2006. I can't stop thinking about this Bunny hoodie. Oh my!

One Good Bumblebee: Gnome Jack-in-the-Box!?!? How rad is that?!?!

Redbird: Stokes bought me some of these totally unique concert posters for my birthday, and now I check out this site like every day. I'm waiting the Sufjan poster!!!

Haworth Homemade: Some loved ones might really like that snazzy TV cover...

The Grey Colt: If you're not from the Cleveland/Akron area, you can always call the ladies at the Grey Colt, and they'll help you find the perfect something for your special someone. If you are from the area, head in and support this local business that is so totally rad and unique!

OK, I need another nap.

I'm thinking tonight some soup and Elf with only our Christmas trees lights on...

BEFORE I TOTALLY FORGET: Check out this Scene article about Fafarazzi. Both Stokes and me are quoted. How rad is that?!?! And it's even more rad that the journalist quoted my most foul answer rather than one of my funny ones!

It's Tempting, Isn't It?

I Might Be the Next "I Did It For Fafa Points!"

The 4th (And How I Imagine Our Forefathers Would Want Us to Spend It)

With threats of severe thunderstorms looming over us all morning, the pool became more a dream and less a possibility. And in that fading dream I saw my little friend Mohammad reaffirming FD is not allowed on the slide during adult swim. Oh, the fun that quickly vanished.

In the wake of my vanished dream, I have spent too much time on the internet today obsessively adding books to goodreads, adding pointless applications to Facebook, and constantly checking Fafa to see if I can't get out of my 5th place in 4 out of 6 of my leagues, and stumbling upon whatever stumbleupon stumbles upon. Oy, how my wrists ache with Carpal Tunnel, but for some reason it all feels worth it--I'm smarter, hipper, and maybe a winner.

I did spend a good deal of time reading and listening to Yes with little choice (FD's new summer obsession), so I wasn't completely sucked into the internet vortex...I had a good hour and a half break....

Now at 4:30, of course, the sun is beaming happily. And, of course, the pool that now costs $4.75-a-$1.75-more-than-last-year's-$3 closes in an hour. Totally not worth it. But grilling plans are saved and perhaps an evening fire and nighttime walk can be had. I have on my Juicy swimsuit and Halo bronzer with spf and Season of the Body beside Mimi the Mac, so I'm ready to move outdoors into the sun and away from the screen that could easily be my sun and moon.

Before I leave, though, let me leave you with some of my finds today (StumbleUpon rocks, especially when you're bored during on/off rain):

The Rhetorical Letter Writer
Scrapiteria
Beautiful Vandalism
Sweet Nothings

All are worthwhile blogs you could subscribe to. And I found some things for myself that later I will share. I want to keep them secret for now.

Ta-ta.

Something Nice to Say. (And Some Silence.)

I've been thinking lately, which is also my favorite song right now by Handsome Boy Modeling School featuring Cat Power.

~

I realized that lately you, my readers, have been getting very cute pictures of me and book reviews and that's about it. Though, I love both and I hope you love both, I also think you deserve more. Why haven't I been giving you more?

~

Hons told me in middle school that if I haven't got nice to say, don't say anything at all.

I repeat this saying to myself at least 100 times a day. It's so embedded in my brain now that I'm just silent and sometimes nothing else, even if what I want to say something isn't really that mean.

~

I've been taking notes lately for my non-fiction essays about my sister. I started my sister project in 2002 in an autobiography class in grad school. Yes, I'm that slow of a writer (and/or that avid of a tv-watcher...) For readers who don't know, my sister is brain-damaged, non-verbal, and my non-fiction pieces revolve around my life as her sibling. Besides the freakshow-ness of Riding the Bus with My Sister (some of you may recall Rosie O'Donnell starring in the tv version), there is a lack of understanding about the mentally disabled from a sibling point of view. I've found research from Sweden, Great Britain, and other countries, but barely any in the US.

This kind of disappoints me.

~

Watching CNN, I can't think of anything nice to say besides "Paris, I'm glad you're out of jail."

I hate watching the violence of humans against each other and the environment. I don't get it. WTF is wrong with us? I mean war. I mean landfills. I mean being unnecessarily mean.

And as much as I love Fafa and celebrities, why the f is Paris the #1 news story? What about Iraq? What about these youth uprisings in Russia being compared to the Nazis?

What stock do the Hiltons have in CNN?

~

Recently while scanning the pics from my childhood, I've been noticing that my sister is in them or out of them. Think about your family photos or ones on this blog. There's the edge, right? That half face of a brother, a parent, the wall. In my photos, I realized my sister is never at the edge; she's featured or not included.

Of course, this could mean nothing, but to me as a writer, it means everything.

~

I want Paris free. ~Free bird.~ And I believe she might do some good now. I know there are skeptics, non-believers, but if she can't change, really who can? I want to believe there is good left in all of us, especially when I can't see the good in humanity as much as when I was younger. You're free, Paris, now prove us all wrong; do good.

~

The pictures of my sister are all hair, all arms, all torso, all legs. She was skinny as a kid. Now she's round in the middle. She has a little flab in her arms, a little chunk in her legs. What I love, though, is her face is the same.

FD tells me that he loves my face, that my face is the exact same now as it is in my kid photos. He loves the kid pic of me reading. It's how I look, exactly, he says, when I'm reading today on the couch or on my lawn chair while tanning. He says I look like a bird.

~

To combat my negative feelings toward humanity, I had to do something. Anything that would let me see there is light. There is hope.

~

Flash of bulbs. Paris runs to hug her mom. Paris smiles. She wears little make-up and looks gorgeous. She looks fresh. Hopeful. Anyone ("retarded," alien, or "normal") can see her face reads happy. We've all felt that happy, even if we won't acknowledge it.

~

How could I not be disappointed in humanity every now and then? Think about it: people let you down, the government lets you down, Wilco lets you down by selling out to AMC. Really, I'm just following destiny.

~

Drop an a from my sister's name and you get angel. That's not a coincidence.

She has made me a believer. She has taught me to believe.

~

So disappointed by humanity, I knew I had to counteract it. I had to do something before I became I total hermit. Seriously, some days I can go without talking, I can stay home, I can choose to not communicate, and I would. If not for cell phones, Facebook, email.

I decided I would thank one person a day for his/her goodness. Sometimes all it takes it recognizing it. And then all it takes is saying it. Saying your really appreciate him/her. Or writing or emailing. And then change. In me. In them. I think we feel a little lighter.

I started with FD. Not fair. Before we go to sleep each night we tell each other our favorite part of the day. I wanted to reach more.

I chose to voice my thanks on the spot or a little after. I chose to thank those I thought would know how I feel but maybe don't. I chose to tell them the life I see in them. I chose to say things that some would say are "weird" or "creepy." I took that risk because saying something "weird" or "creepy" is better than thinking humankind is going to pot. And so what? It's clear by my dress and my attitude that I'm "weird," "creepy." There was nothing to lose.

~

My sister. "My Sister."

One of my favorite Juliana Hatfield Three songs.

Long ago, I traded that CD for cash. For a car payment. I regret that right now while working on my essays.

I want that song more than anything else. I want that song like sometimes I want to be around my sister. To the point I could cry because I feel so lonely. You might read that as "weird."

But I imagine having that song a light will beam down on me, and I will be able to write a flawless book in one draft and get a book deal. Like I will make sense not only to myself but others. Like I will get a spot on Oprah.

Does anyone have that CD they could burn for me?

Seriously, I'd like to get on Oprah. I really like her. And I think her book club rocks.

~

Dear Matthea, I love your poetry. I love your website, especially the photographs of the little things. I can't express how happy/sad they make me. Thank you. Amanda -- Amanda Facebook Member since 2007 http://askirtaround.blogspot.com/ http://eng111onlineclass.blogspot.com/

			Matthea Harvey	to me

Dear Amanda,

Thanks so much for your email! I'm so happy that the pictures make you
happy/sad--it's a line I like to try and tiptoe along. I'll try to put up
news ones as the months go by... Thanks again for writing.

Yours,
Matthea

~

Become What You Are, the Juliana Hatfield Three album "My Sister" is on, has been discontinued. That means I can only buy used copies.

That means I have to trust a seller on eBay to send me a copy in "good condition."

~

Patti,

I was ranking things in my head today, and I thought of this ranking:

#1 person I don't see enough of: Patti S!

I LOVE you, doll! You rock!

Big D

--
Amanda

Facebook Member since 2007

http://askirtaround.blogspot.com/
http://eng111onlineclass.blogspot.com/

		"pattis1122@youknowwho.com"	to me

That is the greatest e-mail I have ever received!!! Thank you!!! I love you too!!!

~

In other words, who knew?

~

In other words, there are others I love/adore like sisters.

There are strangers too.

~

In other words, we are all making a difference.

~

My sister. There are times throughout my adolescence I never understood why she was in my life. The sad thing is I can't even tell you why I thought she was in my life then because my main goal was to pretend she wasn't in my life and that I was an indie-rocker writer who was boy-cursed and prep-hating and didn't have the time to think of her "retarded" sister.

It hurts to write that. Even though I don't think that way at age 30.

~

I'm a bird to FD.

To my sister I'm a bear. Friendship Bear to be exact.

Remember those old school sewn together from a pattern bears? Those are the ones my sister's world hinges on. Each family member worth a damn is a bear. Your life, in her eyes, revolves around your bear. They cry in your absence. They come to your birthday celebration. Without a bear, we would be a stranger. She might like us, but we wouldn't play a vital role in her life.

She moans that the bears, our bears, Friendship Bear (me) and Good Luck Bear (FD), cry in our absence. I can tell by her sounds on the phone on Sunday evenings.

Friendship Bear: Truce flowers on her chest. Orange and friendly.

Was I destined to send emails to those I love/adore?

Was I destined to think of them as sisters?

~

The more I think about my sister, the more I think about Nicky Hilton.

I know it's weird. But consider, the one sister who stayed out the limelight. The one sister who tries to be "other" than her parents.

I am the Nicky Hilton in the McGuire family.

I lay low. I try to do good at what I do.

Am I breaking the rule of saying something good or nothing at all when I say I am the McGuire daughter who could try it her own? Who could go after her dreams? Who wanted to teach and write and am doing it because happiness means more than money to me? Am I wrong for saying that?

Why do I feel like I am wrong?

What would my sister do?

~

What if I told you I'm thanking those that I love because of my sister. Because without her I wouldn't fully understand appreciation, humility, or kindness?

Would you be skeptical?

Would you think I have no power to change?

A Little Disgusted with Myself and, of course, Paris Hilton

Paris is going to jail.

I laughed when I found out. Then checked my Fafa points and went to bed satisfied in the fact I might actually win a league for the first time.



This morning I am disgusted. Let me explain.

For Fafa, a player receives points for the various things various celebrities do: hook-up, break-up, go to rehab, beat the paparazzi's car with an umbrella, wear a random girl's bathing suit, defend a friend who has locked up his wife, go on Oprah acting crazy, flip the bird at the wrong (or right) time, and, worst of all, die.

Americans, including myself, are obsessed with celebrities, so why not create a fantasy league based around them. As we all see it, they're plastic, soul-less idiots who want all the attention they can get by acting like lawless barbarians, so give them what they deserve--Fafa.

And so I play and pray for my draft picks to do something stupid so I can rack up the points and beat my co-players. I'm not above friendly competition.

What I feel badly about, though, is that these are real people's lives. They just don't act or look like real people in their Juicy long johns, but I like to think there is some kind of humanity in each person. Just think of Celine Dion crying on Larry King Live for all of the Katrina victims. They have feelings. And perhaps their feelings only seem fake because we think celebrities are fake.

And Paris, I think, is fake to a degree, but she really does look unhappy strutting down the court steps. And I feel kinda sorry for her. Really, an orange jumpsuit really won't becoming on her. She did do wrong and she, like the rest of us, needs to atone for her wrongdoing legally, but should we be happy about it? What it is is what it is. I'm not happy for the poor average joe fool putsing around town with party plates. And I certainly wouldn't want a bunch of people to be happy if I f'ed up legally somehow. Maybe this will be a lesson for Paris; maybe she'll come back to us 45 days after June 5 and be a changed socialite. Maybe she'll act like Mandy Moore or Natalie Portman. Maybe she'll go to Harvard and write an intelligent novel. I've always believed she's acted dumb for the cameras. Really, doesn't the world love a dumb blonde? Isn't that what we want?

I think all these things and feel badly I'm playing fantasy leagues with actual people's lives.

And then I think again and hope I win my league. And wonder what my Fafa points are. And feel the itch to check them. Now. Immediately. Like right now...Yep, I've already hit my max on Fafa points for Paris today and it's only 11:13 a.m. Damn.

And so the cycle of disgust begins all over again.