splitter says

I'm turning 30...list about regrets, i have a few...

Sun, 22 Nov 2009 19:54:33 -0500

Actually, I really don’t feel any regrets. But in order to feel some, I started thinking about my dreams from when I was a little girl to compare them to what I have achieved so far. This will be fun!

Move to NYC and become a singer/dancer/actor/director/short stop/president: The entire dream is ludicrous. But for a girl growing up in California it was a bit odd to want to move to NYC. It took me awhile (what was that detour to upstate?) but I did that. I consider not being an actor/director/short stop/president to be an accomplishment. But I do feel bad about singing. Not cause I’m a great singer, but because I could be a Carol King type person. Good songs for better singers? Oh well.
Be Pretty: Well the improvements on the hair and the mole removal certainly have helped. I feel, well the best I can be. And fine. I’m over it at this point!
Get Brendon _______________-____________ to like me: Meh. 7th/8th grade were really hard on me.
Get boobs: check.
Do something, anything, that will make me live on in history - you don’t have to be famous or rich - just do something that will last…:ugg, it depends on how you look at it. Working at the museum was really cool, and one could argue that those shows will be written about forever. But what did I do? Take names at the door? Push memberships? Working at what I do now…I don’t know. Still trying to figure that out.

Things that my little girl self would not give a shit about:

2 months, 2 whole months living in Paris Mofos!: That will never be taken away. That was amazing. That was the first time in my life I felt pretty. I would give everything to be living there again.
Getting into Business School: My 12 year old self would probably ask what that has to do with singing and dancing in Annie, but eff her because that was hard as shit and that was a big accomplishment and good for me. I think that counts as an accomplishment of my 20s.
I think I had like 5 months where I used to go out and be interesting and fun…and good for me: Oh man remember that um, quarter, or whatever when I went out late and would sleep under my desk? That was fun.
A cute boy asked me out. He did. He’s marrying me now. That was the first time I was asked out by a cute boy (OK I was before a few times when I had a boyfriend, but that doesn’t count cause boys always like you when they can smell boyfriend on you), and he liked me and stuff and it was right after the mole removal so it all comes together.

Regrets?

None. Fuck you.

I’m glad for the drama to be over.

3 weeks and counting.

I welcome you, 30s.

Obligatory wedding post - sorry in advance

Sun, 22 Nov 2009 19:22:58 -0500

Yes, we are getting married. Yes there was a relapse in the middle of this courtship. I don’t think that issue is gone forever. But, our vows will be really simple:

We have already been in sickness and in health, in rich and in poor, in good times and in bad - and you are the best man I have ever known.

Yes that’s true.

Enough, on with the wedding stuff.

I made the save the dates! And I have to say, all I really care about in these festivities are the cards and stuff.

We made the cheapest cutest things this weekend for both the wedding and the (one week later) party.

The party ones are a close-up of a scrabble board with “Save the Date” spelled out.

Yeah. That shit is awesome.

John doesn’t even play scrabble (which makes me insane), but he um, “knew what was cool when he heard it.”

Well it’s a lot better than what the rest of America thinks is cool according to the options of zazzle.

The small wedding save-the-dates for the family is another postcard with a vintage “Greetings from (our state)” image on the front.

Once I have these here I will send out…only a month late from protocol.

My biggest fear is that people will be upset that it’s just a party. But I hope they understand that this is all I can afford.

But I will reach out to those people to try to explain, and if you’re out of town - hey, don’t worry about it, it’s one night and I don’t want you to kill yourself.

Though my dress will be awesome.

I’m looking for blue shoes. Think 60s blue everyone. 60s blue.

Anyway…I don’t want to give anything away…except…I’m gonna go ahead and give everything away:

"Baby, I know something’s cool when I hear it."

Sun, 22 Nov 2009 19:05:41 -0500

“Baby, I know something’s cool when I hear it.”

- My future husband. Really? I mean, I have no idea what’s cool.

So what? We don't have a generation?

Sun, 22 Nov 2009 19:04:00 -0500

In marketing you spend a lot of time analyzing trends and populations and how they would behave, say in front of a dog food made from wild salmon (seriously I made that up, if I were working for pet food I would announce it.)

Recently I’ve spent a lot of time listening all about some assholes called “the millenials.”

I’ve heard a few definitions of this generation - sometimes my age is included in it…some times I’m included in Gen X.

Here are some basics about millenials:

Grew up using the internet
Not bothered by advertising, etc. on the internet
Communicate mostly in facebook - email is extinct.
Expect to get everything because their parent’s gave them everything
What’s a book?

This is how you learn about generations in marketing: the babyboomers used to have all the spending power, now the millenials do.

There was no one in between it seems.

Look, when I was 14 watching Reality Bites, I don’t believe I thought - “yeah these people are me” because I was 14. I had no context for the 70s references, though because of syndication I do know Good Times, and School House Rock and I experienced a period in which everyone, and I mean everyone, had a vintage lunchbox as their “purse” in adolescense.

But I am not a millenial.

When I see an ad for a millenial, I say out loud, “that hurts my head, why are they cutting so fast, and why is it so loud.”

When I think about boomers, I don’t think they’re old or lame, I think my dad was an activist in the 60s and remains an activist and that’s great.

Gen X was known for a sad indifference because nothing mattered - not very good for marketers. So they don’t count.

Who am I?

In the latest definition I heard, Gen X was anyone above 30 - Millenials were 18 to 29.

I turn 30 in a month. I ask the generation gods above to grant me into Gen X because even though I don’t truly identify with Gen X, I cannot stomache being a millenial.

Is it because my sister was firmly Gen X? My fiance? My friends? Everyone?

Is it because I didn’t use email until we got it in college, and even then it wasn’t used until after we graduated because if we needed to talk to one another we would call each other.

I think about those I know that are truly the friends I’ve gathered, all are one year older than me or above because I was put in school a little early. So it counts right? It counts?

It has to. Because marketing to them is one thing. Being them is another.

And I’d rather be lumped into a stereotype of angst than a sterotype of frivolity.

Or put me in the lost generation of the 30s. That’s fine. I guess that’s me. The lost generation - not X, not millenial, no definition, just a vauge time period where we liked Nirvana and grew up in the 80s and the internet was for rich kids with AOL.

That’s fine by me.

Notes from a failed song writer...

Sun, 22 Nov 2009 18:43:35 -0500

Look I’m not saying I was everyone’s cup of tea, but I think I used to have a pretty nice talent for lyrics back in the day.

I used to think the reason I stopped being able to write songs was because I stopped having drama in my life - without angst what’s a song really? (Unless you’re John Mayer. What a douche that guy is. Right? Who says I can’t call you a douche? Who says?)

But then I had so much drama come back - breaking up with my long term boyfriend - changing my life upside down - meeting the love of my life - then he relapses - but he gets better! Who doesn’t want to hear that in three-to-four chord melody?

I can’t do it!

I tried. What little creativity I have is apparently left to brainstorming sessions in my office.

My father always encourages me to never lose my art (he has a high opinion of me…that’s why he says that…), but what can I do when it loses me?

I convinced myself that it’s not the lyrics (they were sorta there, just ummm…a bit different:

I’m in a meeting I don’t belong in

But I still listen and join the call

I clear my throat and then I chime in

They knod their heads and then move on)

It’s so now!

Until I finally started screaming over an E-A-G chord progression “You’re funny, You’re funny, what are you doing here?”

It’s just plain awful.

Maybe it’s just changed…maybe I can no longer pretend to sing because the fact is that my guitar will never be good enough to actually express what’s in my head.

Unless one of you buys me a capo. I lost mine. I’m turning 30. You could just buy it for me for like $3.00. And then maybe this sad sad sad song writer could rise up again, with horrible lyrics about office meetings.

XOXO

I’m not sure why there is such a thing as “fan...

Sat, 14 Nov 2009 14:30:06 -0500

I’m not sure why there is such a thing as “fan videos” because I had to search for like half an hour to find something without a pop song behind it.

I can’t believe I ever had feelings for another man in my...

Sat, 14 Nov 2009 14:23:37 -0500

I can’t believe I ever had feelings for another man in my entire life.

Television I watch these days because it's on...and others

Sat, 14 Nov 2009 13:59:17 -0500

It’s that time again - winter. Or, as more commonly known at chez Splitter (soon to be Harmon!), “the time when my paleness looks pretty and I don’t have to shave my legs and one does not feel guilty for not leaving the house during the weekend.”

Now, Harmon and I usually end up watching TV around 8 pm, and we don’t have DVR - whch means we are choiceful of the incredible entree that is the modern TV space.

Well, you already know, Criminal Minds has completely replaced repeats of Scrubs, or documentaries on serial killers as THE show of winter. More about Dr. Reid in a minute.
Look I didn’t make Mad Men beloved by every snooty person on the planet, I just happen to also be a snooty person. Besides, if you find it snooty to watch John Hamm, a silver fox, and the hottest red head on film this side of Jessica Rabbit then you need to re-evaluate what is really important to you in this world. Also Pete and Trudy rule.
Dancing with the Stars. My fiance is an exceptional judge of the dances and has really taught me a lot. Now get out of my way as I celebrate the recent elimination of that terrible Aaron Carter.
Sex Rehab with Dr. Drew. I asked my fiance about real rehab and whether or not they would have male and female sex addicts in the same location and he said no. Then he said they wouldn’t be allowed to dress like that either. Then I said it seemed a little bit easier than heroin. But, maybe that’s a bit insensitive. Also insensitive? My hope that Amber and the guy with black hair fall in love. Spiritually I mean.
Chelsea Lately has replaced Jon Stewart lately. A sign of my inability to handle news? Slightly.
V. THE CREEPY VISITORS WILL KILL US ALL! We watched the original series the other day. Both are tops.

With no DVR, I usually end up watching Dancing with the Stars and then passing out on the couch.

So all in all, it’s good to be back in winter.

"Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels."

Sat, 14 Nov 2009 13:36:52 -0500

“Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.”

- Kate Moss. Is that not the worst (but secretly most true) quote you have ever heard? If only free brownies at work didn’t feel much better than skinny - ALWAYS.

Video

Sun, 25 Oct 2009 10:22:28 -0400

Things that made me cry this weekend...

Sun, 25 Oct 2009 10:22:15 -0400

Well everyone! It was the last of my early Fridays this Friday, and though I could’ve worked well into the night in what I like to call “my cell” (some say “cubicle), I figured, I better leave early while I still can and work on the weekend instead.

(By the way, this is me “working on the weekend” - I swear once I get to the Borders that’s exactly what I’ll do.)

In the meantime, I kept to the Splitter tradition of not leaving the house for 48 hours, which led to the Splitter tradition of falling into an unnecessary depression which led to moments of crying that one cannot explain.

An episode of Criminal Minds really set me off. You don’t know Criminal Minds? Of course not, it’s on CBS - which we don’t watch. But A&E started playing it and the fiance and I are obsessed. It’s really good and the nerds are the ones who win. I love this one nerd the best. I was sad that he was addicted to drugs now. So I cried.
Annie was on yesterday. No not the early 80s movie featuring Carol Burnett, but some sort of new Hallmark Channel version. Thankfully the same songs were featured and I lost it after, “You’ll come and find your baby, may—-beeeee.” I started bawling. Fiance is like “Why are you crying?” - “It’s Annie!” I blubbered. “Annie!” Then I muttered how I wish I had played Annie when I was young. But that was seperate.
Lastly, 90210 repeats are on right now. They just played the episode where Brenda finds a diary from the 60s and imagines all the cast members in late 60-fied stereotypes. First of all, that’s a great episode. But I was crying because that episode is really the first foreshadow of the break up of Dylan and Kelly to come and that slutty Brenda’s last words, “Give me something to come back to.” Shut up! Kelly and Dylan get married in the end. And according to latest reports from the new show, they have a kid.

Now I’m going to cry for another reason. Going back to work. I asked for 3 days off next week so I can get myself together. I need a plan. I’ve never not had a plan in my life. The plan right now seems to be: do this forever, then die.

Fiance’s yoga certification is coming soon and I will be so happy to have that zen all over the house.

Here’s Brenda in all her 60s glory. EFF YOU.

Thinking that passing on my future husband's genes (and my own) may lead to trouble.

Sat, 03 Oct 2009 23:09:51 -0400

Um, what the fuck?

I don’t know how, but tomorrow morning will be the scene of an alcoholism intervention (AT MY APARTMENT) for my future cousin-in-law.

She’s sleeping over at my house because everyone is against her right now, apparently.

As a current expert on addiction, this is old hat.

But um, really?

Considering abandoning this kid thing due to my mental issues and this current trend from my husband to be.

But, and I know this sounds horrible, it is nice to have him experience the other side.

I think the pain, hurt and anxiety is something he needs to feel and see.

But I feel awful for feeling that given how close I’ve become to her.

However, I hope I sleep through all of this.

New Snuggie commercial confusing, more appealing than one could imagine.

Sat, 03 Oct 2009 23:01:39 -0400

New Snuggie commercial confusing, more appealing than one could imagine.:

Now that the new snuggie commercial is out I know it’s fall. It’s Autumn’s ground Hog.

Nothing has changed. BUT they are now raising the roof.

Did they focus group? Did people say that this commercial is great, but would be so much better if only they were raising the roof.

Also - there is now a dog snuggie.

The dog looks like he’s high.

I’m confused. But supremely happy that it’s Autumn in New England again.

Is there an award for most creative corporate stooge? Can I get it? Does it involve money?

Sun, 27 Sep 2009 20:57:17 -0400

Let me tell you something about corporations. They love it when you are fucking creative. LOVE IT! And stuff you and I might not even think is creative - like humming a song and making a sassy rhyme with it - that’s creative! Or doodling a face at a meeting on your notes - CREATIVE!

Even listening to music that neither exists on VH1’s jumpstart nor your children’s hannah montana CD, is creative.

Of course they only love it if you’ve proven you can do everything else…but that doesn’t matter. That stuff comes - it’s the magical moments that mean NOTHING, absolutely nothing when someone says

“Hey Splitter? Can you draw a picture?”

That you realize just what a strange world you’ve enterred.

For instance, things like writing songs, or writing something funny, or putting together something silly, etc. That stuff is really easy. I mean really easy. But it’s super impressive to people.

You know what else is considered creative? That I read. Yup. That’s it. I didn’t even have to do anything for that. I just moved my eyes from left to right.

Other creative things?

Paying attention to the news - verrrrrrryyyyy impressive. Shows I’m well rounded, etc.

What people call well-rounded in my “almost-30s” used to be my personality. But you know, that’s all changed with the career.

When I was in business school I discovered so many creative people - it was always awesome to work with them.

There’s something just a little bit different about work. In work it feels like I get points for being interesting. Which, you know, I guess helps to even out the points I may not get for crying in public, or incorrectly doing excel.

Doesn’t matter though - the best regular work I do is nothing without this alternative creative work I do.

But where do I belong? I hate “creatives” - those who are paid to be creative and I hate being a person who works in a corporation who’s personality gives me extra points in the grand chess game they play with our pictures behind closed doors.

At this point there is so much work, I feel so strained, so exhausted, so beat that when I’m asked to plan something creative and I pound it out in 20 minutes to get it out of the way to do my 20 analytical things and THAT’s the thing everyone loves I think.

What am I doing? If only someone could help me. But the only person who could possibly understand is long long gone.

Oh Angela Chase, only you could point the way.

OMG, when you're actually at the point I was at at Wal-Mart today - maybe you shouldn't have children?

Sun, 27 Sep 2009 20:44:14 -0400

I had to go to Wal-Mart today. Wal-Mart is a necessary evil if you live on an extreme budget and you have to do something like buy a kid a present. It’s so odd how you wouldn’t even think about where you would shop in New York. Or at least I didn’t - I just knew where the most adorable vintage wood children’s toys and $8 hand letter pressed cards were sold, so of course I went there.

New York! What a town!

Well I’m just saying, it’s no suburban Sunday trip to the local W-M.

I’m evaluating just how badly my products look on shelf next to competition when the sound of children screeches into my ear. Sadly, I did not have any klonopin on me. Though this didn’t stop my hand from instinctively searching in my purse. I’m like pavlov’s dogs with children. If I hear one scream, I reach for the meds.

We moved into the kids section to take a look at what to get little K. Like every occasion in which I purchase something for a child, I am filled with a jealous rage that is truly unnatural for a woman my age. But it’s immediate and uncontrollable.

“You know I would’ve liked to have had some awesome dress up clothes that look like a flapper girl outfit and a cool fake old fashioney phone and a tiara, but whatever, not like it matters now.”

In the meantime, three boys are pressing the same button on a pocket stopwatch game which keeps repeating:

“Oh! No! YOU LOOOOOOOOSSSEEE.”

They keep pressing it.

I say out loud to John:

“God Shut the F UP.”

John looks at me and says, “Me?”

“No not you. Those KIDS. SHUT UP. YOU ARE MAKING ME CRAZY.”

“Shhh, they might hear you.”

“I hope so - I can hear them, but they don’t seem to care. Maybe if they hear me now we can have an honest conversation with one another.”

John moved me to the craft section.

The craft section? Yes. Here’s why I’m at the craft section. I have to pick up items to be used as prizes for the end of a half day of activities that me and four other people have organizes for around 90 marketers to participate in. It’s supposed to promote bonding.

It’s promoted me right into bonding my head to the floor.

In the end as I searched the kiddie favor bin for cheap giveaway stuff I was again forced to (very maturely) shove two fingers in either ear as three young girs dicussed the best stuff to give away at their party.

I was angry when they took the beaded necklaces before I had a chance to grab them.

And they kept staring at me.

Look I get it. I look strange, and I’m quite oddly hanging around the kid’s favor section - but stop looking at me, let me grab my pretty princess rings, and let me get out of here with my dignity.

And with that I swear off Wal-Mart for the next three months or so. Until I need something for a ridiclous cheap price that makes me shudder in horror at it’s manufacturing process.

Oh well. If you just shut those kids up, I bet I’d be back a hell of a lot.

Now I could explain this picture - but that would take the fun...

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 22:06:21 -0400

Now I could explain this picture - but that would take the fun out of it. I’ll just add that this was the end of a day that started with my fiance’s introduction to the EXTREME FUN of greeting a sweet New Year with a bunch of strangers in a CT temple. Nothing says love though, than seeing your sports jacket laden main squeeze reading along with the english sections and leaning over every two seconds to point out the similarities to church.

5 hours later and we were in another city…doing….

this….

Why I turning 30 is the new dying young...

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 21:55:52 -0400

In three months I turn 30.

I am ecstatic. And I am not writing that to be read in sarcasm.

As far as I’m concerned I did a hell of a lot in my 20s and it was all either dreadfully angsty or wonderfully exciting. Either way, it was fun - but exhausting. I hear that your 30s are nice and calming - like lavendar essential oil reeds (which are sprinkled about my almost 30-something suburban house.)

The only thing I regret is not being on stage since high school. But that’s the beauty of becoming 30 and living in the suburbs…I can totally go try and moonlight in some bar right? Right? A cabaret act, at my age? You ask?

Yes. I’ll be 30 soon. It’s perfect.

This post in honor of post-rehab drug addicts everywhere

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 21:49:10 -0400

Aww, you are so perfect and cute and sweet and funny and smart. How did I get so lucky to get someone with everything in one package who cleans and cooks for me and loves my baby kitty and takes care of me?

You are so wonderful.

You are just…perfect…

Oh wait….

That’s harsh but there’s more.

Day by day things have slowly gotten back to normal. Of course normal is the precarious perch I sit upon as I wait for everything to fall apart. I tenuously try to be PERFECT at work, then take John to group, keep to the budget to support us both until John gets back on his feet enough to re-get a job.

Everyday gets better as his personality re-emerges - I especially loved the banana pancakes on Rosh Hashana morning (what?).

But I take it one day at a time, trying to remember how important his program is, how important our life is, how important I want him to succeed because I’m spoiled by him - until I’m cursed by him.

Awkward moment of the, um, last 10 years?

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 21:39:45 -0400

Is anyone watching Dancing with the Stars? In protest of the horrid situation that WAS the insipid gyrations of one hideous head of the right wing conspiracy - e.g. Tom Delay on DWTS - I vow to never dance again.

I know, a hush has come over the gay bars and weddings of this world that will never again see my awesome jump up and down dancing. BUT! I must protest!

Oh whatever…so what if he is an evil evil representative of all that is horrible in the NEW right…let’s put him on TV and dance damnit dance!

Now you listen to me horrible reality television (sit down TLC, this isn’t about you for once), I’ve been waiting for televised executions to really be the sign that we’ve hit rock bottom - but No!

Bottom has come - in the form of Tom Delay’s gay ass cha cha cha receiving a 5 from Bruno.

Really makes a girl question what she’s going with her Tuesday nights.

In any case, it was really awkward.

(Do not expect a picture of Delay here.)

Photo

Mon, 24 Aug 2009 22:01:42 -0400