Tag: LiveJournal

Tweet tweet: Lisa 2.0 or something very similar.

I’ve been writing online since the mid ’90s. Sometime in 2001, when LiveJournal was still accessible only by invite codes, I snagged a code from someone (unintentionally stealing it from the person it was meant for — not my fault that the originator posted it PUBLICLY!) and started using LiveJournal. For a long time, up until 2004 or 2005, I would cross reference entries between my own domain over to LiveJournal. The writing on my own domain slowly petered out and I started using LiveJournal for all of my “blogging” needs.
But I’m a voracious blogger, as it were, known for indepth analysis of the human condition (that sounded totally Pretentious Fucktwattedness, henceforth known as PFT, but I’m okay with that) and short non-sequitors that were mostly one or two lines of text. Stream of consciousness thinking, as it were, are my calling cards. I could start out a post about the joys of doing laundry only to end up discussing the rituals 006 and I used to share. There was never any “thought” process to my writing, it is what it is.
I’ve owned my own domain since the mid-’90s when one could buy them ONLY from Network Solutions (then Internic) and pay exorbitant amount of cold hard cash for the said privileged. I knew friends who ran their own servers, never paid for my own web hosting up until recently and for the most part, maintained (in the blogosphere) at least some sense of anonymity.
For the last couple of years, I’ve felt disjointed on how to combine my “internets” life with my public and personal ones. I’ve had exes who attempted to sue me for libel and slander, ex-employers who found my website and kept tabs on me after I left the company (even after I’ve left on my own accord and I was not dooced) and a local (in-state) family farm who claimed that my using their family name in the title of a piece was ruining their business. I’m everywhere and nowhere and the projects that I started, always seem to fall to pieces while modgirl.net languishes in disarray from terrible lack of upkeep. So thus began the great “re-organizational plan.”

  • Finish the archives for modgirl.net and never touch that website again.
  • Start updating She’s Got Plans and cross-reference to LiveJournal.
  • Keep small non-sequitor stuff to Twitter.
  • I’ve been asked about the Podcasting plugin that is showcasing on the bottom of this page, here is the scoop: I have over 700 CDs and close to 70 gigs of music, most of which I’ll probably never listen to. I thought it would be great to create a podcast, called AutoMusicBiographically. Each episode, starting with the beginning of the alphabet, I’ll showcase a particular band and discuss how they are relevant to me and to music in general while showcasing a few of their hits. I’m pretty excited about this new project, just need to get other stuff done before I get going on that one. I do, however, have a friend who does audio production work so this should far easier to get accomplished.

And so, what can you expect on She’s Got Plans?

  • Music, book, television, and general pop culture reviews.
  • Library school (and grad school) bru-haha.
  • General commentary on the absurdity of the human populace.
  • Project updates, including but not limited to: Knitting, cooking (because I’m relatively new to this whole “cooking” thing), writing (I’m working on flash fiction pieces to be compiled for an anthology), exercise and diet shit (gluten intolerance, like everyone else on the planet). The usual project and entertainment crap.
  • Team Sassy updates. Steph and I are walking 50 miles in October to help combat MS. Cross-referencing both websites with updates.
  • AutoMusicBiographically. I’m so excited for this project to begin!
  • Photos. There will be lots of photos.
  • And whatever else I can think of.

I’ll be tweaking the front end for a bit while I discover new plugins and widgets and of course, start driving users to the website, etc. That’s it for me, for now. I need to get to bed. Good night internets, sleep well and don’t hog the bed.

Addendum

In regards to this entry, I need to give you guys closure.
As AQ Paul and I had agreed to meet up for lunch this week, we were to meet Tuesday after French to plan. Due to my own procrastination, I knew that everyday this week was going to be bad, so we agreed to go to lunch that day to Hunan on Leonard (the one that wenchie is always raving about to me).
Lunch was short and very strained. Our usual playfulness was gone and tension was high. We sat in a booth, facing each other, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I couldn’t look at him in the eyes. Too much was left unsaid that day last week and I wanted it to remain buried. I kept bringing up wifey-poo at every opportunity that presented itself. Since he took the initiative to cut the lunch short (less than an hour, including driving time), I was heavily relieved.
I dropped him off at his car and we talked and I watched his hesitation as he got out — as if he was waiting for me to inquire about having lunch again or something of the sort. I kept my mouth shut. He is leaving AQ next spring, so there will be opportunity to see him again in academic setting and I think it’s best for all parties involved to keep it like that.
x0x0x

Patrick Update

If you read the last post, which is quite lengthy, I do want to stress that I do not condone cheating. I’ve done it, but, shit has changed and it’s not my bag. Married/in a relationship, unless you are scot free, don’t call me.
With that being said, still no idea on what is going on. As I related to Kate and Jen the other night, he’s probably waiting to get me to Denver to dump me so that he can say he has a clean track record (he’s broken up with all of his girlfriends). I twirled my finger when I said it.
I could postulate on this forever and you’re probably wondering why do I even bother, and to be honest, since I get no emotional or physical satisfaction from it, I have no idea. Maybe I’m holding out on the idea that somehow we will work this out. Well, honestly, I don’t know WHY. I’m just an idiot.
More later.

Changing of the Guard and Why women and men cannot really, be friends.

[What’s behind the cut is fairly lengthy. There is a lot of backstory in it as well and anyone who has been around here longer than a year can probably skim quit a bit of it.]
I’ve decided to start shedding this “good girl” image and while many of you are probably choking on a drink as I type that, those who know me best know that I’ve been living a hermit like existence. I don’t go out, I didn’t actively date save for a few brief intense meetings and this has been my life for the last year and some change. Prior to that I was in a dead-end relationship in which save for a few people, I was a hermit fighting to survive living with an asshole for three years. It irritates me I go on about just living life and rocking out when I’m doing nothing to actually promote it. Most of my “bad girl” behavior is from my early 20s.
So There.

Can you keep a secret?

I bought this book tonight when I was at the mall and just finished it. It was MUCH more entertaining then the Shopaholic series, but I like my trash along with my ficiton. I’ve read half a dozen books or so since I’ve back from Denver in March and have yet to finish Quicksilver by Neal Stephenson that Patrick lent me when I was leaving. He’s greatly upset by this, of course, as he feels that it’s one of best books in ages that he’s read. He made this big to do when he gave it and I almost feel guilty for getting chocolate on one of the pages one night.
Maybe not.

Surrealistic Cookie Munching

Should mark down today as first in history as I’m working a paper and it’s not due till next week! I’ve been baking cookies all this early evening and thankfully this batch came out better than the last batch. I’m divvying up the cookies as I’m going to ship some to Patrick, as promised.
The boys are home tonight with their friends, sucking down microbeers while watching the fight on HBO. Because we have vaulted ceilings, everything is amplified. The land line rings and Jeremy (roommate #3) yells t (though I”m about 15′ away in the dining room working on said paper) that it’s for me. I can’t hear due to the echoing and when I ask who it is, I get: “Your boyfriend!”
Oh. My boyfriend. Forgot I had one of those.
Conversation was light and fluffy as I talked about making cookies, writing a paper and the boys drinking while watching the fight. As if I’m in a dream, Patrick starts chatting and there is no tension. In many ways I feel incredulous about whether or not it is simply just me being insane and I’m imagining things. I don’t know. I still believe the bloom to be off, but I find the irony that the more I pull away emotionally and interactively, the more he starts to pursue me.
I will never, ever, figure out relationships.
Ever.

Get Thee to [a] nunnery!

Hamlet is interesting if only for all the nifty quotes that were pulled and used in topical conversation these days. Also found it interesting that Hamlet’s phrase, “Get these to a nunnery” has double meaning: one referring to a convent and another to house of ill repute.
The house is quiet today, as both boys are upstairs taking a nap. Jeff and his friends were up till 3am making “breakfast” and I just cleaned the kitchen of all remains. When I’m done writing this entry, I’m taking a shower and heading to a grocery store to get food stuffs for tomorrow. I’m also going to be baking cookies tonight and hopefully I can make them more cookie like rather than scone like.
I also need to stop flirting with the cute boy who works at my local coffee shop. Megan and I were dancing to “Georgia On My Mind” in the shop one day when I had dipped her and she almost fell into a table containing condiments. He’s been looking at me weirdly ever since.
With FAFSA filed, I checked my credit report the other day to discover that I’m losing points for my student loans. Even though my credit is damn near stellar, points are dropping like flies with the more money added on. No word on when my mother’s SSDI major check will kick in, though her actual SSDI kicks in May 15. She told me over the phone a few days ago that she had hoped it arrived before my trip to Europe so that I could have a “good time” — which is thoughtful of her but considering flight, hotel, transportation and food is taking care of, I’m not sure what I’ll be spending money *on.* Oh, I’m sure I’ll find things, but with the USD dropping like flies, the USD is only worth .82 cents Euro. .54 cents UKP, I’m currently deathly afraid to part with my savings on anything “extra” right now.
My relationship with Patrick, the bloom has fallen off faster than a flan in a cupboard. It’s slowly lingering in purgatory, and it just needs a final “chop” to kill it. While he’s resolved to quit drinking, and I believe he has [too much at stake professionally for him to continue with his meandering ways], the relationship that seemed so promising is off. I don’t think it’s that we were not compatible, rather, it goes back to timing. For once I’m not going to berate myself for walking around with my heart on a sleeve and thrusting it to the first person who has shown real interest. I’m not afraid of being alone. One of these days I’ll change my status from “quirky together” to “quirky alone” and leave it at that. No pomp or circumstance behind it. I already cried my tears and my heart has already been broken. No need to relive it all over again.
I’ve been thinking of doing something drastic, such as chopping all my hair off. My bangs, which were Bettie page length when I moved, are down below my chin. I’ve been playing with my hair a lot recently and liked the way it looked, with the front long and angled up. It would mean 12-14″ cut off and as much as I adore the hair cut I want, I can’t part with cutting my hair yet. I decided to give myself another 6 months and if I still desire the major change, I’ll rethink it again.
I just want it to be known, I’ve never been afraid to be alone.

que tu t’amuses!

I decided to write something for Patrick. Prose maybe or a poem. It seems really tacky to me considering that I just got emailed by an ex who sent me back the poem I gave him nine years ago, but, on the other hand I haven’t written a poem for someone in those nine years and to my knowledge (and I could be wrong, as I have been before), that was my one and only poem written for a boyfriend.
I keep going back to my 23rd? 24th? birthday when Patrick gave me notebooks to write in. It’s funny, because he is probably one of the only people in my life who has ever really encouraged my writing. It’s not that others have said “Well you suck ass Lisa, bite me.” more like, there is no encouragement at all. Which, to me is just as bad as discouragement. Should I say, he’s been more of a constant encouragement. I told him the outline of the book I’m working on and he laughed because he thought it was about him even it was started before that infamous kiss of November 28, 2003.
I don’t do well with fiction or poetry or prose. I mean, the earlier works are testament to that. Some of it is just pure crap and even I am embarrassed to read it.
So this is really important to me.
I just wish I could explain how much.

Another one for the the “WTF?” file

katishna had said to me recently that it’s clear that I do not go and seek drama, it comes to me. Which, is true. Not only did Miguel call today (I dumped his VM after hearing him going “hello? hello?” and the part about me needing to “grow up.” He left one other message after that one, which got dumped immediately). But I come home, stuffed from movie popcorn to receive an email from HGFH (houseguestfromhell), to inform me that her dad is dead. Now, we have not spoken since October and I recently found out she’s keeping tabs on me via my brother (whom she also sent a $50 dollar gift cert from Amazon for Xmas) and she’s asking about me.
She wrote to inform me that her dad is dead, but here is the parts I like best:
“I’m not sure what I am expecting to happen from this email, but again, I did feel the urge to tell you of this event in my life.”
“As you know, my relationship with my dad was far more distant and strained than yours with your dad… so this news for me is actually good.”
I wrote about this back when it happened. LIke with Miguel, I bear her no ill will and I certainly don’t hate her. She’s just not a positive influence in my life and to be honest, I don’t miss her. I wish her well, but, apparently she doesn’t get “it” either.
I must be missing something. I mean, I really must.

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