mollyringle: (Yaquina Head lighthouse)
So my mom dug this up in the grounds of our family beach house recently, buried in a teeny plastic lipstick-tube-like container. It would seem my sister Peg and I made a time capsule, which I do not remember doing at all.

Transcript if you can't read the photo:

Good job! If you liked finding this, write your own note somewhere and bury it. Put the map in the envelope w/ the others.
Molly & Peg Ringle
Aug. '88
P.S. If this is Camille, thanx for the idea

I am left with many questions, such as:

a) Who is Camille?
b) What map? What envelope?
c) 13-year-old self, why didn't you say something actually interesting if you were going to the trouble of a time capsule?
d) No cash or treasure or anything? You cheapskate.

mollyringle: (bradley)

My list goes to 12:

1.     Quitting Facebook, or at least spending waaaaay less time on it

2.     Finishing a trilogy!

3.     Starting a new novel that is not going to be a trilogy and is way simpler and smaller in scope but still paranormal and romantic and quirky in my usual ways

4.     Getting into the habit of daily meditation - I like the app Calm to help guide the practice, but there are lots and lots of others that do similar things and look good too

5.     Stepping up my exercising. In addition to making sure I take walks on an almost-daily basis, I've started doing some high-intensity-ish exercises a few times a week. (Try this one if you dare. Calling it "beginner" may be a stretch! But it'll give you a workout for sure, and I'm getting better at it with practice.)

6.     Also tai chi. I've been doing various YouTube sessions of that on occasion, and find it really does make my joints all feel happier.

7.     Recognizing anxiety for what it is; i.e., my imagination working overtime; and redirecting that imagination into creativity, such as writing stories, or thinking up ways to improve my surroundings

8.     Probiotics for all in the household. Or at least, definitely for me, in the form of things like kombucha, yogurt, kefir, and fermented pickles, and for my kids in the form of chewable probiotics when they won't eat those other things, which is usually. It has correlated to a notable decrease in number of viruses and other infections we've caught. I won't claim it has caused the decrease, but it has at least correlated, and I wouldn't be surprised if there's a cause and effect here.

9.     Earlier bedtimes for kids, better enforced. More sleep for me too. The meditation and similar breathing exercises help relax insomnia's grip on me. And more sleep surely helps our health too.

10.  Being a lot gentler in how I think of myself, and getting a lot better at not giving a damn what other people think of me. Self-care feels real good, and ends up making me more patient with everyone else, so hey, win-win.

11.  Leasing my soul, for a time anyway, to the Merlin (BBC) fandom, and in particular the Merthur ship. Yay, slash daydreams and fanfics! I've missed your siren song.

(It's pretty much canon, anyway.)
Also, maybe I just haven't dug deep enough yet, but so far the Merlin fandom is one of the sweetest-natured I've ever encountered. Everyone has been wonderfully nice.

12.  Trying doing things in new ways, or doing new things. I'm starting small, no bungee jumping yet, but practicing flexibility in daily life is like yoga for the brain.

So my resolutions for 2016 are pretty much to keep all of those up, and do even better at them. Happy New Year, everyone!

mollyringle: (Avatar)

My stress and anxiety levels in recent months have been so much lower than last year's. I could yet stand to improve my overall happiness, but "equanimity" does now describe me far more often than it used to. As a result of being calmer, I sleep better, which means I have more energy and don't get sick as often, so my physical health's much improved too.

There are lots of changes I've made, large and small, that I would say have contributed to this improvement. But here are a nice tidy three:

1. Ditching Facebook (and not replacing it with some equally time-devouring online activity). I've discussed this in previous posts. But just in case you wanted an update, I still think this was a fabulous, wondrous move, on par with breaking up with a toxic friend. (In fact, it basically WAS breaking up with a toxic friend. Or at least, a conglomerate of mostly non-toxic people who, together, somehow added up to one gigantic toxic friend.) I miss it less and less with each passing month. I'm stronger in my solitude; I have wise thoughts and am happy to keep them to myself or tell them to someone I know in real life rather than feeling any need to rush online and share.

[Edited to clarify: I'm not calling any individuals "toxic friends." I'm fond of everyone I was friends with on FB, and am happy that I'm still in touch with many of them via the *several* other ways available to us these days. It's the Facebook environment as a whole that I'm calling toxic. Too many posts, too much snark, too much drama, too much getting messaged and tagged for unnecessary reasons, too much intrusion on my work and thoughts. It felt like being trapped at a loud party I wasn't allowed to leave. Not everyone has that experience on FB, clearly, but that's what mine was like. So I post this because if anyone else is suspecting FB is detrimental to their peace of mind, I want them to know it's quite possibly so. And I want them to feel healthier too, so I do recommend reconsidering one's relationship with the site. Not with the people, necessarily--that's not the same issue.]

2. Meditating every day, or almost every day.

(I have yet to achieve the Avatar state, however.)

Yeah, meditation's all trendy and stuff these days. In fact, I hesitate to even mention that I do it, because it's so ridiculously trendy, except I must recommend it because the results are marvelous. I really do feel calmer and more compassionate on average, even with just 5 or 10 minutes a day of sitting with my eyes closed and somewhat half-assedly telling my thoughts, "Shush, come back and focus on the breath, and stop replaying that hilarious YouTube video from earlier." The practice of noticing what my thoughts are doing in the first place is the valuable part, it would seem. And though noticeable progress did take months in my case, it was so worth it. I would sooner go back to Facebook than stop meditating now. (Yes, even that!)

3. Cool tip I heard somewhere that works: when feeling stressed in a rushing-around, not-enough-time kind of way, I intentionally slow down, to the degree of doing something fully three times slower than I have to. It wouldn't make sense to take your whole day that slow, of course, but doing one minor task that slow, as a token gesture, shows your brain that it's okay; taking 45 seconds instead of 15 seconds to put away the bread isn't going to make the world collapse. Also it buys you a little time to think, breathe, get your next move figured out. It works. I like it.

Calm down, world. Calm down.

mollyringle: (sepia)
Things I've given up in recent years that I don't particularly miss:

Most of my hair products
Getting into arguments online (yes, email counts)
Cute but uncomfortable shoes
Seeing movies in the cinema
Watching violent or depressing movies
Keeping up with the news

I could also make a list of things I've given up that I do miss and hope to have again someday, but I'm focusing on the positive here. Comfort and simplicity are of the good.

Humor, meanwhile, is always good. So enjoy this inspired blend of Weird Al and Doctor Who, in which it is proven that David Tennant's Doctor is, indeed, white and nerdy. No wonder I loved him!
mollyringle: (MST3LOTR-dance - arwen_elvenfair)
Seattle mom honored as a really bad writer

A West Seattle woman won the 2010 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest — the foremost national contest dedicated to bad writing.

By Maureen O'Hagan
Seattle Times staff reporter

Without the gerbil, she'd be nothing.

Well, not nothing exactly. But Molly Ringle would likely not have won the 2010 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest — the foremost national contest dedicated to bad writing. And not just any old bad writing. The contest requires a single sentence, so bad it's ... well, really, really bad.

Her winning entry, written in her West Seattle home:

For the first month of Ricardo and Felicity's affair, they greeted one another at every stolen rendezvous with a kiss — a lengthy, ravenous kiss, Ricardo lapping and sucking at Felicity's mouth as if she were a giant cage-mounted water bottle and he were the world's thirstiest gerbil.

See? The gerbil is the key.

"Some liked her outlandishly inappropriate comparison," said contest judge San Jose State University professor Scott Rice. "It is a sendup of writers who try too hard to be original, and it is a sendup of those revolting couples whose public displays of affection make them poster children for celibacy."

"The wonderfully poor choice of metaphor is what makes the sentence especially funny," said another judge, Sharon Brown.

Ringle learned of her success Saturday. She celebrated with a feast.

"I probably continued making macaroni and cheese or something," she recalled.

Droll, yes. Thrilled, too.

A 34-year-old mother of two, she owes the idea to her infant son, whom she was nursing when she came up with it.

"Something about his attitude and posture ... It reminded me of those guinea pigs we used to have as kids," she recalled.

But dash something off she would not. She pondered and she mused and she reached for the stars, until, by the end of the day, she had pounded out something so perfectly bad, it was gold.

Well, not gold, exactly.

"The contest rules say I get a pittance," she explained. "I'm not sure yet what that is.

"I'm not expecting much but the glory."

The contest, founded by Rice in 1982, is named for the 19th-century writer Edward George Earl Bulwer-Lytton, who penned the notorious line: "It was a dark and stormy night."

Ringle is no novice writer. She is the author of a published novel in the hot-selling "paranormal romance" category.

"The Ghost Downstairs," however, has not sold quite as briskly as "True Blood." She has two more novels that are set to be published, as well, one a romance, the other young-adult fiction.

Which can't help but lead to a question: Is winning a bad-writing contest the best move for an aspiring author?

Ringle sighed.

"I've asked myself, probably belatedly, is that what I want to be famous for?" she said. "But hopefully people in the publishing world know it's all in the name of comedy."

Besides, she said, "You kind of have to have a certain amount of skill to write a sentence so bad it would win. You have to work at it."

* * *

But really, it wasn't that much work. It was fun. And all the entries are at least as good as mine, so go read 'em:

I also liked Seattle Weekly's post about it, since they used my silly Aplets and Cotlets remark. (You'll have to read it and see.)

And yep, I've seen the AP release version too--that seems to be the default article.

I feel quite ridiculous. But there are definitely worse ways to get 15 minutes of fame. Now I'm off to get 15 minutes of eating a snack and reading a book before going to bed. Night!

Edit: Due to a lot of spam comments on this entry, I'm locking out anonymous comments, or trying to. Please email me if you want to say "Yay for the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest!" See my page for the address. Thanks!
mollyringle: (laughing - hates life)
I wrote this shortly after getting my braces removed last year. It will be of interest only to those who have once had braces or are considering getting them. To the former I say, "Keep wearing your retainers"; to the latter, merely, "Godspeed."


Brace-face. Metalmouth. Train-tracks. Chances are, if you had braces in middle school, you got called those things. One plus about getting braces as an adult is you probably won't be. At least, I wasn't. But I thought them every day when I looked in the mirror.

Ordinarily I'm not that vain a person. I don't go into hiding if I have a zit or a bad hair day. I wear sunscreen and don't usually bother with fake tans, so my legs are pasty Northwest white, and I don't care who notices. I often forget to bleach or trim the rather thick hair on my otherwise feminine arms. My physical flaws are part of me; love me, love my chipped toenail polish. I didn't even mind letting people see me lumbering around nine months pregnant.

But I did not like being seen in braces. I smiled with my lips closed for photos. I would consider going to visit old coworkers if I was in the neighborhood, then reconsider--"I have braces. Maybe I'll wait till after I get them off." Metal brackets and wires lining my teeth, top and bottom, back to front, at age 33, made me feel far more uncool than I'd felt since, well, middle school. And I didn't even *have* braces then.

Part of the trouble was that I didn't get braces for aesthetic improvement reasons. My smile garnered compliments before. People, even dentists, sometimes asked if I'd already had braces. But I did have one crossbite--a spot where, when I bit down, an upper tooth ducked behind a lower tooth instead of settling in front of it like it's meant to--and that was wearing down the teeth in question, and throwing off my whole bite to a degree. It was worth it, said my perfectionist dentist, to look into braces, and get that fixed before I broke the crossbitten tooth in half.

I consulted two orthodontists. What I hoped for going in was the Invisalign option: clear plastic trays designed for your own teeth, which you wear all the time but take out for meals and toothbrushing, and which no one can tell you're wearing unless they look really close. The first orthodontist flatly told me, after I'd waited 45 minutes to talk to her, "No." Invisalign wasn't an option for my case. Titanium was required to haul those teeth into place. And by the way, it was going to take four hours to put the braces on, it had to be from 7:30 a.m. to noon some weekday because that's just how they did it, and I'd have to wear them for about fifteen months.

Maybe I'm not in middle school anymore, but I did want to cry.

The second orthodontist looked around my jaw and said, "There's not much wrong here." I liked him already. "Could I do Invisalign?" I asked him. He shrugged and said I could. But it would cost more because of the lab fees involved in designing tray after tray for each stage, and would also take longer overall. Patients often start with Invisalign, he said, but get frustrated at how long it's taking and how little progress is being made, and switch to metal braces. For adults who want it done fast and economically, he said, metal is the way to go. And by the way, in *his* office they'd put the braces on in about an hour and a half, and I'd wear them, say, ten months.

He was definitely my guy.

So, despite my initial preference, I went with metal. It was just ten months, right? Sure, they'd look stupid and feel scratchy, but I could cope. How bad could it be?

Those who say the first few days of wearing braces feel akin to having been hit in the mouth with a baseball are not exaggerating much. The office staff was friendly and efficient throughout, but there was nothing they could do about that "sensitivity," as they euphemistically called it, except hand me a box of wax to stick on the sharpest spots, and advise me not to chew anything tough this week. My mouth hurt everywhere, on all levels. The metal brackets ripped up the inside of my cheeks when I chewed, spoke, smiled, or slept. Tiny ball-tipped hooks protruded from the rings encircling my molars, and those hooks dug especially deep holes in my flesh. (Months after having my braces removed, when I thought of those wounds, my tongue still dove back to those spots defensively and tried to soothe them.) The roots of all my teeth, suddenly finding themselves under permanent tension and being pulled in new directions, throbbed in protest. Chewing anything was an exercise in pain. Room-temperature chocolate was way too hard to manage--which would have been a matter for heavy grief, except fortunately chocolate melts if you suck on it.

The wax I was supposed to stick on the sharp parts was only of marginal help. I couldn't wear it while eating, as it would come off and get swallowed, so the most painful part of the day--chewing--still had to be done without protection. I learned to take a dose of Advil half an hour before meals, but at breakfast that was tricky. I wake up hungry, as a rule, and want my breakfast ASAP.

Also, eating solid foods was disgusting. Seemingly one-quarter of what I tried to eat ended up lodged in my braces until I was wearing a packed layer of rice, lettuce, meat, and bread all across the front of my teeth. Even on the non-painful days, that drove me into fits of disgust and paranoia.

So for that first week or so, and for a few days every time they adjusted my braces, I relied on a mostly-liquid diet. It's what I still recommend to anyone getting braces. Why torture yourself?

Every time I thought my mouth could not get more full of stuff, they would add another facet. One was "crosswires"--those tiny round rubber bands that middle-school kids learn to snap out of their mouths and send flying across the room. I never mastered that skill, but got all too accustomed to the feel of the things, stretching from one upper canine tooth to the bottom canine on the opposite side. This phase lasted a few months and was intended to haul the teeth in my lower jaw over to the left, to center them properly. (While the orthodontist was fixing my crossbite, he figured he might as well straighten every last tooth in my head too.) At other phases, they added a super-tight rubber band that they laid along the wires, splashing a bright color of my choice onto my smile; and, another time, a new set of molar-encircling rings to my farthest-back molars, which previously had gone untouched.

That made flossing even more of a task than usual, and it was a huge task already. Imagine having a wire fixed across all your teeth, and try to imagine how you're supposed to work a string of floss *under* it to clean between your teeth. The answer is, you get a special tool, a little floss-threader that works like a needle to your thread of dental floss. It does the trick, but only once you get the hang of it--and that alone takes a while. I spent half an hour trying to get all my teeth flossed the first night, and wound up throwing the box of floss across the room. Even once I mastered the floss threader, flossing took five minutes every night. Without braces it takes perhaps thirty seconds. And anyone with a toddler knows how valuable five minutes can be.

Professional dental cleaning was no easier, logistically. I had to schedule three back-to-back appointments on the same day: first the orthodontist, to remove the wires; then the dentist, to clean as best as they could around the glued-on brackets; then the orthodontist again, to put the wires back on. After a few unsuccessful phone calls trying to schedule those ("Oh, sorry, we're not in the office on Thursdays"), I made the orthodontist's receptionist call the dentist's receptionist and work out the times between themselves, and tell me afterward what they decided.

My final sentence with braces stretched a little beyond ten months--it was one year almost exactly. When the nice lady at the orthodontist pried off the last rings and brackets, and took a metal pick to my teeth to scrape away the bits of glue, I welcomed the unpleasant sensation. Gone! The damn things were gone! A good flossing (ah, so quick!) and brushing and mouthwashing rinsed away the stale taste in my mouth. My teeth were slick and clean and straight. The orthodontist set me up with Invisalign-style retainers, which I wear only during sleep, and sent me on my way.

A year and a few months later, I still love the results. I didn't expect to notice any difference besides the absence of the crossbite, but actually my teeth are giving me less trouble all around. Less sensitivity than before, temperature-based or otherwise. Less accidental biting of my cheeks. Almost zero random whacking together of teeth that shouldn't whack together at quite that angle. Yes, I do wear my retainers, and yes, I'd rather not. But if it means keeping braces at bay the rest of my life--hell yes, I'll keep wearing them.

I'm still ambivalent on how I'd answer if someone asked, "Should I get braces?", or "Should I go with metal or Invisalign?" As I just said, I love the results, so yes, it was worth it...but just barely. I imagine if you had truly misaligned teeth before, the "worth it?" question will get a more obvious "yes." As for the second question: well, Invisalign will hurt too, make no mistake of that. But it will hurt less, since you have no sharp metal edges to rip up your soft tissues, and at least you can eat and floss normally. Take that under consideration before you decide. And always get a second opinion.

And keep smiling--even if your orthodontia scrapes a groove in your lip every time you do so.
mollyringle: (girl reading with moon)
Woohoo! At, my short memoir piece "I Ought to Send That Bitch a Thank-You Note" was chosen as one of the ten to go into the My Writing Life book project, which the site is putting together. I don't know much about the book yet, but it sounds like the kind of thing that wouldn't look too bad on the CV.

Some of you got to read the piece here on my LJ, but I've had to lock the entry, since I'll be signing a contract giving the online publishing rights to TNBW. If you didn't see it, it basically said, "I started writing novels as 12-year-old in a jealous snit, and my early works were laughably bad, but in the intervening two decades I've learned a few useful tips on the craft, such as 'Don't quit your day job.'"

In any case, it was a lovely surprise and a nice birthday present to boot. (I'm about to turn 33. Give me virtual chocolate and picspam!)
mollyringle: (Elvgren girlie)
All right, fess up. Who put me up on a big long list of sexy geeks of 2007? (Scroll down a bit.) With a photo from over five years ago, I might add.

It's likely someone asked if they could nominate me, and I said, "Sure, go ahead!" and then promptly forgot about it. So just jog my memory.

Regardless, it was a pleasant surprise. Dude, I'm listed on the same page as Captain Jack!
mollyringle: (iPod)
"There's nothing about this haircut that suggests the name 'Bob' to me." - Steve

photos! )
mollyringle: (Minas Tirith - John Howe)
Here's an mp3 of me reading aloud Tolkien's poem "Errantry, which was all [ profile] kalquessa's idea.

Text of "Errantry" here.

So that's where the name "Dumbledore" came from, eh?

By the way, does Spike call Wesley "Percy" after Percy Weasley? Both Wes and Percy were pretty proud of being "head boy".

Happy weekend!
mollyringle: (golden egg)
...and the one that finally gets you, that's death.

Which is all by way of saying, happy birthday to me! Give me eye candy!

My dodged bullet? I have had this new freckle thing on the side of my nose for a few weeks now. It's tiny, almost black but isn't a blackhead, and hasn't gone away or changed. I usually don't get freckles at all, so I finally called the doctor this morning and got an appointment for an hour ago. Well, everything is fine, of course; he patted my arm and said "It's not cancer," and all. But really, for a bit there, I was having a thoroughly morbid mood. I started thinking of all the stories I'd heard--"My friend's dad found this little mole on his arm. Three weeks later? He's DEAD." And so forth. I planned a few deathbed speeches. It was very dorky and G0th of me.

Anyway, I'm fine, although Zach is NOT going to forgive me anytime soon for taking him with me into that horrible, horrible place (the doctor's office, where he usually gets shots) even though nobody touched him this time.

So. Eye candy! Bring it on!
mollyringle: (Willow - Hi - by aom_leiconz)
Tagged by [ profile] new_iconoclast...

1) Players start with 8 random facts about themselves.
2) Those who are tagged should post these rules and their 8 random facts.
3) Players should tag 8 other people and notify them they have been tagged.

So, my 8 random facts:

1. As proof that I'm behind the times, I have never sent or received a text message on a cell phone.

2. As further proof of the same thing, up until about a year ago I thought "MySpace" was a file storage type of site. Which I guess it is, if you count skanky photos and long emo posts as files.

3. After reading about noctilucent clouds on, and seeing photos of them, I thought, "Oh, sure, I've seen those plenty of times." I verified this the other night by looking out the window at twilight and spotting some. Sure, there they are; we get 'em all the time here, I figured. Then I found out I was just lucky, for these are fairly rare at this latitude. So what was I seeing before? Not-so-lucent clouds, evidently.

4. I think I have a bunion on one foot. I'm not sure what to do about that, but my mother-in-law has them and they've nearly crippled her on bad days. Greeeat.

5. I tend to like fantasy but not sci-fi; love stories but not romance novels; true crime but not mysteries. With exceptions for each, of course.

6. I like purple flowers best of all. Then blue. Then white. Then red or yellow. But fragrance is really more important than color.

7. I eat peanut butter with chocolate chips off a spoon (or a table knife) quite a lot. I maintain that this is a healthy snack.

8. I disapprove of most bumper stickers. They're a bad policy. Sooner or later, everyone, even you, does something annoying in traffic. At that point, those who agree with your bumper sticker will be dismayed because you're making their side look bad; and those who disagree with your bumper sticker will just hate you even more for it.

And now...I disobey the rules by not tagging anyone, but inviting anyone to take part who wants to. I have a cold; I get to bow out early.
mollyringle: (laughing - hates life)
Just in case you ever wondered, it costs $45 for a locksmith to come let you back into your house when you've locked yourself out. Or maybe I was robbed blind and it really should cost less. I don't know. I've honestly never done it until today. Go me!

Yes, we do indeed need to start keeping a spare key somewhere outside the house. Like maybe under the mat or under a flowerpot next to the door, because no one would ever think of looking there.

Grumble. So, now, a meme from [ profile] modmerseygirl.

1. YOUR NAME: Molly
2. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?: My middle name is the same as my mom's best friend's name. "Molly" just sounded nice and American, which my folks wanted after six months in France.
3. WHEN DID YOU LAST CRY?: Hmm...really cry? Hard to recall. Tears in the eyes? The Buffy episode "The Body," watched a few days ago. Yes, I'm a sappy fan sometimes. But that was a *sad* episode--anyone who has seen it can back me up.
4. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?: Not my cursive. My non-cursive, which I use far more often, is OK.
5. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?: Chicken. Or maybe roast beef.
6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?: Sure, if I ever met me, which would be hard because I don't get out much.
7. DO YOU HAVE A JOURNAL?: Far too many.
8. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT?: Definitely! (That was [ profile] modmerseygirl's answer, which amuses me because she's so ridiculously sweet, and I associate sarcasm with harsher people, like me.)
10. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP?: Probably not, though oddly I think I could skydive.
13. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG?: I think I'm stronger than I think I am. If that makes any sense.
14. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM?: Any kind with chocolate cookie or brownie pieces in it.
15. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?: Probably hair; it's easier to assess from a distance.
16. RED OR PINK?: Red! I actually eschew pink.
17. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF?: What a very odd question. eyes...?
18. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST?: I suppose grandparents, and not just mine.
19. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO SEND THIS BACK TO YOU?: No; they should post it on their own journals. ;)
20. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES YOU ARE WEARING?: Faded blue jeans; no shoes.
21. THE LAST THING YOU ATE?: Cookie dough, molasses/chocolate.
22. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?: The cold wind outside and my own typing.
24. FAVORITE SMELL: Rain in a warm season.
27. FAVORITE DRINK?: Water, or English/Scottish/Irish Breakfast Tea with milk and sugar.
28. FAVORITE SPORT TO WATCH?: I don't, really. I zone out within seconds.
29. HAIR COLOR?: Blondish reddish brown.
30. EYE COLOR?: Greenish brown (hazel)
32. FAVORITE FOOD?: There's never just one food I could eat forever. But chocolate is an obvious contender. Cheese is up there too.
33. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDING?: I prefer a happy ending, but a really great story would have it all.
34. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED?: 'Free Enterprise,' via Netflix
36. SUMMER OR WINTER?: I prefer fall and spring...but winter is less hateful to me than summer. If it's too hot to wear jeans, then I find it too hot.
37. HUGS OR KISSES?: Well, who we talking about caressin' here, sweet thang?
38. FAVORITE DESSERT?: Something with dark chocolate integrally involved in it
39. MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND?: Whoever wins the "most bored today" award.
40. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING?: 'Three Junes' by Julia Glass. I can't quite decide if I like it or not.
41. WHAT'S ON YOUR MOUSE PAD?: Grayness.
42. WHAT DID YOU WATCH LAST ON TV?: Probably a Buffy episode.
43. FAVORITE SOUNDS?: The soothing voices of familiar radio personalities
44. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES?: Definitely Beatles, though I like a few Stones songs pretty well.
45. FURTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME?: If I calculate correctly...Inverness, Scotland
46. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT?: I can actually finish writing novels instead of just saying I would like to write one someday. Sorry. Make that: "Snarkiness at all the wrong moments."
49. NEW YEARS RESOLUTION?: To be a more considerate driver, and try to view other drivers as human beings and not demons.
mollyringle: (Monkeemen)
Quotes from conversation lately, recorded mostly for my own amusement...

MOLLY: I'd rather go to Disneyland than Vegas.

STEVE: There's a race to the bottom.

MOLLY: At least Disneyland's motives are purer.

STEVE: Are they, really?

MOLLY: Okay, then at least there's less prostitution in Disneyland.

BOTH: (after a pause) Is there, really?


STEVE takes off wedding ring in preparation for washing dishes, and makes dramatic point of putting it down on counter, as if renouncing entire marriage.

STEVE: I've had it with this crap. I ain't your baby-daddy, and I'm going on Maury Povich to prove it!
mollyringle: (Grace)
I am 31 today. Sweet, another prime number. I've been missing that since 29.

A couple years ago I had you all make virtual gifts for me from stuff you found online. Let's do that again. Find a picture of something on the internet you're giving to me. For instance, the Taj Mahal. Post it in the comments for everyone to admire.

Whoever called up the cloudy, almost foggy, weather with the 57-degree temperature: THANK you!

BNF issue

Jun. 29th, 2006 01:13 pm
mollyringle: (Legolas - do I please you?)
Posted here because I said I would on the Ringwraith journal...

[Poll #758886]
mollyringle: (Default)
No, it's not an automotive rebate program. It is, according to those who dabble in astrology, what I'm going through right now:

Astrologers call the period between ages twenty-eight and thirty "Saturn Return." That's because it's the first time the planet Saturn completes its cycle through your birth chart and returns to the spot it occupied when you were born. ... While undergoing your Saturn Return you may find yourself turning inward ... You may feel lonely and alienated from those around you, while family and friends think you are shutting them out. ...Even if your external world seems to be in order, your internal structure may feel as though it's being assaulted with a battering ram. Nervous conditions, irritability, depression, insomnia, and feelings of insecurity are common.

Considering this is astrology - which is, to say the least, a complete crock - the assessment of the 28-30 age range is dead-on. I don't believe it has one damned thing to do with the planet Saturn, but "Saturn Return" is an attractive name for it, so I shall call it that. ("Dude, this is my band, Saturn Return.")

Apologies to everyone who has experienced my excessive weirdness recently. I hate to tell you it isn't over yet. But I'm doing my best to get that planet spinning away from me once again, and someday I hope to be able to approach you with serenity, generosity, and good humor. In the meantime, I must remember the cardinal rule of LJ:

"If you don't have anything nice to say... don't enable comments."
mollyringle: (narnia)
(Isn't that what LJ is all about, really?)

I've been reading a book about sleep lately, and it has verified what I already suspected: I should try to get more of it, and the health consequences of not getting enough are hugely serious, not just a mild inconvenience. Mood is the first thing to plummet when you don't have enough sleep. Reaction time and sharpness of thinking suffer too—basically, you get stupid when you're sleep-deprived. And your immune system takes a grievous hit as well, opening you up to all kinds of problems.

But let's just look at mood for now.

I found myself wondering this morning, as I stumbled around getting ready for work when I wasn't quite awake, "Does everything seem so stressful in my daily life lately because I'm not getting enough sleep? Or am I not getting enough sleep because everything is so stressful?" The book hasn't said yet whether we actually need more sleep when we have stressful situations going on, but it has said that we feel stress a lot more acutely when we're sleep-deprived. So, I suppose it follows that more sleep would ease stress.

Or maybe it's all in my head. I'm a firm believer in the notion that the brain can screw you up any which way. Question is, how much can you actually do about it, even if you know it's just in your head?

I've wondered a similar thing before, years ago, when lying in bed with an upset stomach: "Does the world seem so nightmarish because I'm sick? Or am I sick because the world is so nightmarish?" Some days, probably just the former. Other days, it's got to be the latter. Most of the time, though, it's hard to tell.

Lately, with the changes at work, my stress has led me into my usual dichotomy: low self-esteem and the certainty that I suck on the one hand, countered by narcissism and the belief that everyone is being unfair to me on the other. Which is truer? How can I tell in any given situation?

Recently, I've decided most of what I write is stupid, my intelligence is severely overrated, my attempts at humor are pathetic, and my social skills are appalling. I've also decided I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to do, am being unjustly condescended to, and am perfectly normal in being quiet and introspective to the point of isolation. No, I don't think I'm bipolar. I just think I'm full of conflicts and am always questioning whether my actions are "right". Perhaps I over-question and simply need to relax.

I have no point to this, except to hope it explains my personality a little better to those who don't quite get me. Several times in my life I've been told I'm mysterious. I'm not trying to be; I'm just not sure what I think of myself, so I'm standing over here quietly musing over the subject, when I probably should be doing something productive.

Maybe the constant conflict is good for me, as a writer. No story without conflict, right? Then, hey, I'm your gal!

But I know there are two things I must keep at the top of my list of priorities: one is sleep. The other is humor. It's life-threatening to skimp on the former, and a cardinal sin (in my book) to skimp on the latter. That goes for all the rest of you, too.

No, make that three things. Chocolate. Yes.
mollyringle: (starwars)
I am inspired, by [ profile] jedmiller's mention of theatre involvement last week, and by [ profile] impetuousnote's mention of tedious ex-boyfriends, to reminisce today about an incredibly dumb incident in my youth.

But first, the opening act: found by [ profile] pegkerr: Remarkably well-done filk on "I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major General", from Aragorn's point of view. Some favorite couplets:
I'm Estel and I'm Aragorn, and Elessar and Strider, too
I've hunted orcs and trolls and wargs, and sometimes a Black Rider, too.
My sword is old and busted but I wield it with impunity
And draw it out and flourish it at every opportunity.

Hee hee. OK, anyway...

When I was fifteen, my boyfriend (who will we fictionally continue to call Aaron) convinced me to try out for the school play with him. The play was called Blue Denim and was a sentimental drama set in the '50s about a teenage girl who falls in love, gets pregnant, and gets an abortion. Aaron thought it would be pretty rad if he got the part of the boy and I got the part of the girl. I, for one, thought it would be weird and unpleasant, and would have preferred getting the chance to kiss some other guy on stage instead, but I kept that thought to myself.

Well, to everyone's total shock, I got the part of the girl. And the drama ensues. )
mollyringle: (Frolijah)
Thanks, all, for the civilized discussion. I still wish I hadn't even brought up the topic, since I don't enjoy debates, but there hasn't been any actual flaming yet, and that's about as much as I could hope for.

It also made it clear that I have a broad spectrum of types reading this journal, so here's a little poll on demographics that I've been meaning to do for a while anyway. Check all that apply, and I'll start putting up banner ads accordingly to match my target audience. (Kidding.)

[Poll #166795]


mollyringle: (Default)

September 2017

34 56789


RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 21st, 2017 05:39 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios