If you’re having a problem meeting suitably politically aligned dating prospects, there are services that can help!

The Democratic Singles Network is a spot for more liberal minded folk. For the conservative among you (though I can’t imagine I have a large number of conservatives in the list of visitors to this site) there’s Conservadate.

I found the concept interesting, so I took a short break from finalizing the holiday schedule for work (oh the fun of scheduling!) to investigate and signed up for both. Don’t read anything in to this - I am still happily hooked up with my man (who, if you’ll recall, I met via Yahoo! Personals). I’m not trying to meet anyone, I’m just curious about these services.

There’s nothing really different about either of them in comparison to other online personals sites, and they’re not too different from each other in the general sense. The most notable difference I saw upon first logging in is the the DSN shows you a page with headlines from the news - with a liberal emphasis of course - while the Conservadate site focuses mainly on the dating bit on the home page by featuring profiles and links to dating advice.

Well, mostly. They take a slight potshot at us liberals with a poll on the side, the question being “Ladies, if you HAD to pick one from the following, which would it be?” and the choices being a date with Michael Moore, a root canal, an IRS audit, or a date with a walrus. I have to admit I found that mildly amusing. But I also have to tell you, I’m a pretty far left-leaning liberal, and I’m thinking that the walrus would make for a better date than Michael Moore. (Aside from the shallow considerations, really, I just don’t think he’d be all that fun.) Now, a date with George Stephanopoulos I might go for. (And not just for the nicer eye candy either. He’s long been a favorite of mine… I once named a cat after him even.) They also have a little sidebar that lists a few “facts” about Republicans.

Um… experience more happiness? Ahh, it’s too easy. There are so many snide comments I could make about that “fact”… I’ll just leave it alone. (And just in case you dispute that “fact”, they provide “proof”. Fun with statistics!)

Anyway.

The most interesting moment came when I searched for matches in my area. DSN produced 22 men between the ages of 18 and 97 within 10 miles of my zip code. Conservadate only had 1 match for that same criteria. I don’t know if that shows that there are just more people registered with DSN overall, or if it’s just proof that I live in a rather liberal area. (Not that I don’t already know that.)

I looked at the profile for the one match on Conservadate just for fun. In the section of his profile where he was to choose what musical genres he was partial to, he chose “I don’t listen to music.” Without even considering the differences in political ideology, I think I can safely rule him out as a potential candidate should I ever find myself on the market again. I think I could deal with a Bush supporter quicker than I could deal with someone who doesn’t listen to music. (And believe me, it would be really hard for me to deal with a Bush supporter.)

In the two weeks since my 31st birthday I have:

• Gotten carded for cigarettes twice.
• Eaten dinner at a quasi-fancy restaurant that I adore but only get to eat in once a year or so because we’re brokety-broke-broke.
• Gone 4 days without my primary email because my host tanked, and I survived. It was touch and go there for the first day or two.
• Researched and signed up for a new hosting service.
• Migrated 8 different websites (with 7 different databases) that I manage into said new host.
• Picked up and started wearing my new contact lenses.
• Attempted to procure new backup glasses with less than $150 to spend from two different sources, to no avail. (Having a really strong prescription limits your lens material choices really.)
• Had my hair cut and colored, the result being a very cool looking plum color. (Pictures coming soon.)
• Worked 80 or so hours in the store, plus about 5 - 10 from home.
• Driven around the other side of Cleveland for an hour and a half in the attempt to find John Carroll University, alone, at night, while wearing my 3 year-old prescription glasses.
• Watched Jeffrey Gaines in concert when I located the University after finally figuring out where to turn off of the traffic circle (on the 4th attempt).
• Driven to Columbus, OH and back in one night in order to see The Dresden Dolls.
• Slept far less than my body feels is necessary to function.
• Almost caught up with the current season of Alias. (Only 3 episodes left to be current!)
• Administered twice daily doses of a liquid antibiotic to a less than pleased cat for a little over a week.
• Marveled at the beauty of Corpse Bride. (Though I do think Nightmare Before Christmas is much better story wise, Corpse Bride is simply gorgeous to look at.)
• Completely violated every tenet of low-carb eating, multiple times. (Though it did mean I got to taste the Key Lime Almond Joy [yum!] and the Orange Cream Kit-Kat [super yum!])
• Discovered that I actually kind of like coffee when it is diluted with steamed half and half and pumpkin pie spice flavored syrup. (See above item about violating tenets.)
• Managed to maintain what little sanity I have left among all this.

I honestly don’t remember what it is like to be able to see clearly without the aid of some sort of lens. I don’t even know when exactly my vision started going, as there had been a problem for years before it was ever actually diagnosed. I thought everyone saw things the way I did (I thought trees were supposed to look like green blobs), and no, the fact that I had awful headaches every day when I was in 8th grade didn’t arouse suspicions.

I got my first pair of glasses at age 15, which I refused to wear unless it was absolutely necessary, lest I appear to be a nerd. (As though the glasses were the only thing that might point someone to that conclusion.) I had to wear them when I drove, but damned if I was going to wear them to a social event of any sort, even if it meant I couldn’t actually see whatever band was playing, or even the hot guy at the end of the bar. I finally gave in when I was about 17 and admitted that I really needed to wear them all of the time, since even walking straight had become hard without them. Though really, seeing the picture below, can you blame me for not wanting to wear them?

I eventually developed some sense of taste when selecting frames (or at least I think I look a lot better in what everyone seems to refer to as the “Lisa Loeb” style frames) and for the past 14 years, I’ve worn glasses all the time.

About 7 years ago I decided to try contacts, but at the time technology wasn’t quite keeping up with the decline in my eyesight, and contacts didn’t correct my sight enough to be functional. Plus, I couldn’t quite get the hang of putting those suckers in. It’s not the touching the eye part that a lot of people seem to think is freaky - I can stick my fingers in my eyes and barely flinch. (I guess that’s sort of a talent?) Those little things are slippery and all foldy though… and after the fourth day of 20 minute (per eye!) sessions of trying and failing to get them to stick to my eyeballs, I decided that it wasn’t worth all the trouble. Especially seeing as how trees were back to being green blobs even with them in. I went back to wearing glasses full time.

Technology seems to have advanced some though, and the decline in my sight slowed a little (though it’s still declining… I have many more years of that to look forward to if family history is any indication), and my eye doctor was confident that I would be able to wear contacts. Well, as long as I could learn how to put them in anyway. So what the hell, I’m giving contacts a try again.

When I picked them up, I had to go through a little learning session with the lady there as she taught me to put them in. I remembered a little from my trial run years ago, so it wasn’t a foreign concept really, but um, yeah. That woman had the patience of an angel. Each time I’d screw it up (those bastards fold too easily!) she’d offer up some encouragement and explain it one more time… finally, ta-da! Contact in the right eye. The left eye seemed to cooperate better, and I was all happy and stuff, until she said I had to take one out, just so she could teach me how to take them out. Ugh. The second time with the left eye didn’t go quite as well, but eventually it stuck, and suddenly, I could see. I could really see… up, down, and oh my god - peripheral vision! (Seriously, those of you who don’t wear glasses take this for granted, but I can’t see anything to the side without turning my head. You could totally sneak up on my when I’m wearing the glasses.) I looked like I’d just watched Terms of Endearment when I left, but dammit, I could see!

I wore them for a few hours that day, and aside from that fact that I could feel them the whole time, it was a plesantly odd experience. It’s a hard thing to describe… but it’s really a whole different thing to see with contacts. I’ve been wearing them for a week now (save for yesterday, when I woke up late) and though it’s still a bit of a struggle to get them in (which is why I didn’t wear them yesterday… I still need a 20 minute window at least) I’m getting better at it, and this time it’s worth all the trouble. The trees still have leaves!

A few things that are nice about wearing contacts:

• I can see while taking a shower and shaving my legs. This is completely new territory for me.
• Peripheral vision.
• Being able to walk in the rain and still see… and no fog when leaving a warm climate for a cold one. (Something that’s come in handy given the crappy and cold weather we’ve had here the last couple of days.)
• Having people comment on my eyes, which they can see for the first time ever.
• Being able to lie down on the couch to watch TV without having to continually readjust my glasses so that I can be comfortable and see at the same time.
• Kissing my boyfriend without causing blurry vision. My vision doesn’t go blurry from the smudges on my glasses anyway.
• Really people, PERIPHERAL VISION!! Yes, I am *that* damn excited about having peripheral vision!

There are a few disavantages here and there (and I think I need to adjust the prescription in one eye a little, though it’s still better than the 3 year old glasses I have), but I’m trying to see past those (um, no pun intended) and adjust to the new way of seeing. The only problem I really have is that I think I look very weird without my glasses on, despite the reassurances of my friends (and the fact that David has been looking at me a little differently, in a good way). I feel somewhat naked without them, and damn, I have really got to keep up with the eyebrow plucking now. I don’t have the distraction of the purple frames to hide behind if I let the unibrow go too long.

And so, part one of my annual re-invention is explained. (And eventually, I might even fully explain the whole annual re-invention bit.)

For part two, I want to have visual aids, and for that Katrinka and Natasha will have to have another glamorous photo shoot as my self portraits have not been working out so well. I cannot seem to find the right lighting that will accurately reflect the color of my hair at the moment. So you’ll just have to wait.

I’ve always been a bit obsessive about the music I love, and I really do mean *always*. I can clearly remember being heartbroken at age 4 when my favorite 8-track tape broke while it was playing. (One of the major downfalls of the 8-track technology… along with many other things.) I don’t remember if my parents ever replaced it, but I can tell you what that tape was.

If that doesn’t look familiar to you at all, you’re not alone. There are very few people that I’ve come across in my life (save for searches on the Internet) who actually remember this rather obscure 1975 television special, despite the fact that it’s written by Maurice Sendak (better known for Where the Wild Things Are). I’m sure that I saw the actual television special at some point or another during my childhood (because when my dad sent me a copy of the video I recognized it all), but it’s Carole King’s music that sticks with me the most. I can well remember singing along with “Chicken Soup with Rice” over and over and OVER.

I’ve got the soundtrack now on vinyl, something I found at a little record store in LA a few years ago. It’s been a while since I’ve listened to it, since my record player is in semi-permanent storage at Marshall’s currently, as I have nowhere to put it in our too small apartment.

Still, it only took one verse for me to recognize the song “Pierre” when The Dresden Dolls played it live in Columbus Friday night. And that caused much jumping up and down and screeching in Dan’s ear “This is from Really Rosie!!! It’s a song from Really Rosie!!!”

Due to the screeching, I feel sure that wasn’t Dan’s high point of the evening, but it sure was a bright spot in mine.

Which brings me to my real point here… if you ever get a chance to see The Dresden Dolls live, take it. No really, take it. I don’t care if you’ve never heard their music, or if you have and didn’t really get into it. Seeing them live is a completely different experience, and one I can highly recommend. There’s a reason that specifically seeing them live again scored a mention in my list of seven things I wanted to do before I die.

When I saw them the first time, it was in a tiny little club (The Grog Shop for those of you familiar with the Cleveland area) as an opening act for Sleepytime Gorilla Museum. There were only about 15 people there to see The Dresden Dolls, yet it was one of the most enthralling and electrically charged shows I’ve ever seen. (Which is even more amazing when you consider that they’re a duo with just drums & piano.)

On Friday, they played The Newport Music Hall, which is about 5 times the size of the Grog Shop, and to a nearly full house. The electricity was pulsing through the crowd before they even took the stage, as they were following an opening act that wowed the crowd (DeVotchKa) and between set entertainment that was like watching a mini-Cirque Du Soleil performance. This just added to the whole experience… which was simply phenomenal.

I’ve tried before to describe the live show, but I can’t seem to capture it in words. (I wasn’t able to convince Dan of the brilliance before he saw the show - he wasn’t digging the CD so much and later confessed to semi-dreading the show - but he left a converted man.) So I’ll cop out completely and just say it’s something you have to see to understand. If you can’t make it to any of the tour dates, there is a DVD coming. I can’t testify to whether or not it will be the same as being there… but it’s better than never seeing them I suppose. (And “Pierre” will be on the DVD!!)

The show (and the accompanying road trip) was a great way to deplete the birthday money fund. If I’d gotten more money, I’d probably be on my way home from Buffalo at the moment, seeing as how they played there earlier this evening.

Anyone wanna fund a trip to NYC for me? I already have Fridays off…

Ok. I’m nearly back up to full strength here. A few bumps in the road, but it’s getting better, and I have my email (with about 4 days missing) back.

Between hosting nightmares, birthday celebrations (thank you all for your warm birthday wishes and stuff!), and the coordination of my yearly re-invention (more about that in a day or two), I feel like I’ve been running around like the proverbial chicken with its head cut off.

I’m tired.

And because I have to be up early in the morning, I can’t really expand on all that in a quite satisfactory manner at the moment, so I’ll just go with this short bit:

Friday will mark 2 years since the truly horrible death of Elliott Smith. I can’t even begin to describe how much his music has meant to me since I discovered him. I saw him live so many times I honestly lost count, and meeting him was one of the few times that I was truly struck speechless. I was shaken by his death - I even thought my own reaction was a bit strange - and now two long years later it still makes me sad to even think about it. When From A Basement on The Hill was released in 2004, I thought that would pretty much be it. I mean, I know that posthumous releases are all the rage these days (Jeff Buckley and 2Pac have had more material released after their deaths than while they were still alive I think.), but I also knew that Smith’s family was reticent (at least by all accounts I’d ever heard) to dig up and release a lot of old stuff.

But the wonders of the Internet bring us more. A collection of unreleased material has surfaced in some places for download. It would appear that some of these songs are left over from FABOTH recording sessions, but a few of them are probably much older than that. While it’s bittersweet in a couple ways (that this really is the the last new stuff I’ll hear, and that these are likely rough, unfinished mixes that he never intended to be released), I have to say that I’m quite thankful to have more to remember him by, and I would like to extend my heartfelt appreciation to whoever was responsible for leaking this. I feel sure that some would criticize the move, but I am just grateful to have more Elliott Smith to listen to.

And after listening to this, and going back and playing a few other Elliott albums recently, I still stand by what I’ve said before about this man: the only thing he ever did that really disappointed me was die.

For those unfamiliar with his work, the title of this post is a lyric from “A Distorted Reality is Now a Necessity to Be Free”, one of the best song titles I think I’ve ever heard.

Ahh, the joys of hosting services going dead. And on my BIRTHDAY no less. The thousands of people looking to wish me a happy birthday were thwarted! (Ha.)

Yeah, so that pretty much sucked… and my email is still missing in action. I haven’t had access to my primary email address since Wednesday afternoon. I cannot even tell you how much that disrupts my life.

Once I get this all settled (I NEED my email back!), I’ll be back with more on the goings on of the last few days.

Meanwhile, you should go and check out the Protocol’s “She Waits For Me”. I’ve been obsessing over this song since I first heard it, and I can only hope that the rest of their music is as good.

In lieu of real content today, the day before my birthday (hey at least the shamelessness will end after tomorrow, right?), I thought I’d just direct your attention to other projects that I’ve been a part of over the last few weeks. This is all the stuff that I work on in the small bits of spare time I have after working in the store, working on the store’s website, watching Alias and Lost, and maintaining some semblance of a social life.

(Though the social life bit really only consists of MADDOF™, which is basically me and Dan spending every other Saturday [or so] together and acting really silly and shallow with a few serious discussions and stories of our past thrown in for good measure. It’s really a lot more fun that my lame little description makes it sound. Just ask the good people at the Lakewood IHOP. They’ll tell you… well, on second thought, they might not be the best people to ask.)

At any rate, Dan got bit by the blog bug. (I’m rather fond of alliteration these days, it would seem.) He and I worked together to get something set up on my little domain here, and so without further unncessary ado, I present…

[uber•auteur]

Go read, enjoy, comment. I do.

Also, on the work front, I’ve had a few little projects going that I will now direct your attention to. First, if you live in the Cleveland area, or more importantly, the Lakewood area, take a gander at LakewoodPride.com. We’re just starting to get ramped up, and who knows when we’ll actually get the time and energy we need to pour into the project, so the pickings are a little slim at the moment. If you know anyone who should be listed, or you want to be listed (and you represent a business based in Lakewood, OH), by all means, fill out that little form.

Then there’s the fun stuff. If you’re a Margaret Cho fan, you might just appreciate the gift her record company is sharing with us: Margaret Cho MP3 ringtones for free. I don’t really get some of the quips there, but much like “Hi my name is Gwen, I’m here to warsh your vagina,” I’m guessing you just kind of need to hear the context to get it.

Enjoy all the goodies, and I’ll leave you with an image that is probably much more amusing to those who can identify at least 3 of the people featured, though I’ll bet it’s worth at least a snicker to just about anyone.

Over time I’ve talked quite a bit about my boyfriend in this space. I haven’t referred to him by name here because at first he didn’t really know I was doing this whole blogging thing and I decided it wouldn’t be prudent to identify him without him knowing this was out here. (Though I’ll even admit my logic here is a little flawed, seeing as how it is extremely easy to identify me from this blog, and thus if you know me you probably know him. I don’t know; it made sense in January.) Once I finally fessed up to doing this, I asked him about the use of his name in my blog, and he said he really didn’t have a problem with it. I didn’t change the habit even then though, for one reason: I’m in the habit of referring to him as “my boyfriend” when speaking about him in any context. This is because his name is David, and there are far too many David’s in my sphere of acquaintance, making it a necessity to maintain clarity in conversation.

This is something that has bothered me a little in the last couple of years though. Not because I have to refer to him by something other than his name, but because “boyfriend” sounds so junior high to me. I feel like I should be scribbling “I ♥ My Boyfriend” over and over on the front of a Mead sprial notebook every time I use that word. As I approach my 31st birthday (yes, I will manage to work that fact into every topic until Wednesday), it feels even sillier. I mean, yeah, I’m not really the most mature person on earth anyway, and I do like to maintain my youth in many ways, but come on. There has to be a better way to say it… I feel like I’m doomed to relive a little bit of junior high every time I talk about him.

You see, it’s not likely that he will ever be my fiancé or my husband, though I’m pretty sure at this point I’ll be with him for at least the next 20 years. This is something we established at the outset of our relationship, something that *I* insisted on. It has nothing to do with a commitment phobia, or some weird fear of intimacy or anything so emotional. It’s simply that I have issues with the concept of marriage.

I used to say that I was anti-marriage, and I might still be heard quipping that from time to time (mainly for the dramatic effect), but I’m really not against marriage. For other people anyway. It’s just not something I want to do, at least not as marriage is defined in American society today.

Though this is not my only gripe about it, marriage has become inextricably linked with religion (which is, of course, the root of all the hubbub over gay marriage). Seeing as how I’m simply not a religious person, I really don’t feel the need to partake in a religious ritual. Yes, I know that I could simply accept the justice of the peace thing and get a marriage license, but even that carries strong undertones of religious ceremony to me. I would happily sign a contract of civil union or domestic partnership that was designed as a legal joining only (and then I would graciously accept all the presents that newlywed couples enjoy, along with the rights they are given) if such a thing were widely recognized in our society to be totally apart from the church.

But I digress.

I’m not really in the mood to debate religious matters, or even gay marriage (though believe me, I’ve got some strong opinions on that). What I really want to talk about here is terminology. I really don’t want to call David my boyfriend for all eternity due to the 15-year-old-ish-ness of the word, but to claim his as my husband would be to imply an untruth. Significant other sounds so cold and unfeeling I’ve never been able to use that unless I’m going for comedy. And whenever anyone uses the term partner, I instantly picture the happy couple inhabiting an office space and wearing suits and signing documents rather than a comfy family home.

I’m relatively sure I’m not the only one who feels this way. Many people have simply adopted the husband or wife label to avoid the inevitable questions that follow any other designation, or they use partner, significant other, or boyfriend despite the fact that they don’t like it, for lack of a better word to use. I feel that those of us - gay, straight, or otherwise - who remain unmarried but attached and don’t like the options, face a quandary. (And while I can do some strange things for strange reasons, I’m not looking to get married simply for the easier conversation. Though I would like the presents…)

I don’t usually do the interactive entry bit… but in this case I’d like to open the comments here to suggestions if anyone has any. Can we find a term that conveys love, affection and attachment without the unintended coldness or childishness? Is it possible to create a new word that says what we mean? Can we start a movement?

Or am I the only one?

I expect things will start looking a bit sparse around here. NaNoWriMo is open for business, and I’m working toward being ready. I’m starting to think that I’m just a wee bit insane (Save your snarky comments, thank you.) for even thinking about doing this. The fact that I’m still up at nearly 5:30 AM writing about writing seems to put me toward the far end of the crazy meter really.

But then again, all the best writers are just a wee bit insane, aren’t they?

I’ve kind of decided that I don’t want to clutter up the space here with my anguish as I work through the 50,000 words that I need to write in November, so I’ve set up another blog just for that. I’m telling you this in case you care (though I don’t expect anyone to really).

Yeah, I just went off the crazy meter charts. Like I’m going to have time to blog here and there and write a novel? Ha!

To be fair to myself, I don’t plan on writing long-form on that one. It will likely be a lot of bitching more than anything else, though hopefully I’ll get to sprinkle it with a few accomplishments.

Now… to figure out where sleep fits into the schedule I’m laying out. I’m thinking 7 - 9 AM is a good slot. Two hours ought to be enough for anyone, don’t you think?

I’ve had boobies on the brain a bit. (Alliteration, boys and girls!)

Boobie-Thon is partly to blame. Though the last entry here was also about this, let me just take this moment to remind you all to visit Boobie-Thon and give if you can. In fact, if you were looking for that perfect birthday present for me (ahem… October 12), but you just weren’t sure where to send it, give a donation for me. Happy Birthday to me, and save some boobies! I’ll probably bring it up a few more times before this is over. I did mention that this is a really, really, really important issue for me, right?

The other factor keeping me in the boobie mindset was that I had to go bra shopping this weekend. This is not, as many of the straight men of the world might imagine, a sexy sort of outing. No, it is more akin to torture when you are as, um, amply endowed as I am. It is something I always put off until it is absolutely necessary (meaning that the ones I own are falling to pieces), as it requires trying on nearly every bra in the store and test driving it a bit. You have to make sure it doesn’t do weird things when you sit down or lean over. You have to make sure the wire isn’t too poky. You have to put a shirt on over each bra to make sure it works under the shirt. Or, at least that’s what I have to do. It ain’t a pretty sight.

Really, this is not the way I would choose to spend my Friday evening, now that the Friday SciFi channel shows are on break and I have my boyfriend back (he cannot miss his “Must Geek TV”), but it was sadly something I had to do.

Between the bra shopping and the photo snapping, I’ve been thinking about these things a lot. It reminded me of when I was but a second grader, already showing signs of the things that were to come. I developed boobs much earlier than all the other girls in my class, which led to much embarrassment and taunting. One little boy in particular used to tease me relentlessly about them, doing things like asking me if he could have some milk. (Though I doubt it, I wonder if remembers doing that now and thinks, “Wow! What a dumbass I was!”) I had many tearful moments thanks to my early bloomers.

I remember crying to my mother (from whom I inherited the endowment) one day and saying that I hated boobies and I didn’t want to have them. She said to me, “You may hate them now, but one day you will come to appreciate them, a lot, and the boys will too.” I couldn’t even imagine this - boys were still completely icky to me at the time, so I thought that was a really weird thing to say - and I chalked it up to one of those lies that parents told you to make you feel better.

Of course, she was so totally right. Despite the fact that I really shouldn’t acknowledge this, there have been times when having big uns has been a blessing, and maybe just a bit of an advantage. I do appreciate them now, as long as I’m not shopping for the double slingshot to hold ‘em.

And just to bring this back around to a worthy cause, I did take a couple of new snapshots that I submitted to Boobie-Thon featuring one of the new purchases, as well as carefully cropping some other photos I had that showed a little cleavage. (Now that there’s one shot floating around out there, there might as well be more, right?) Go give for the boobies!