Arrgh. Blogger just ate my post. OK, quick recap -- My cable/cable modem hates me, and my internet access is spotty at best (TV nonexistant, but I'm not as bothered by that.)

So, the weekend thus far/week to come:

Laura and Jorge visited on their way back form Montana and Canada (Glacier National Park and Banff, which, by the way, is one of my favorite place names ever) -- liked the house, Jorge was impressed by the neighborhood and the food (both just like home), and I kicked their asses at Trival pursuit, even though it was two against one. Hah.

Now cleaning, baking/marinating for a bbq tomorrow at Kristin and Maneesh's, getting ready to catch up on movies (The Cup, Miss Congeniality, High Fidelity, Monkeybone, Pyscho Beach Party -- heh, it's a holiday weekend, you expected deep thought?) and engaging in a lot of sloth. Bliss.

Monday, Megan, en route from Minneapolis to Atlanta, will be crashing with me for the night, and I'll probably drag her to Ravinia for the 1812 Overture with real cannons aimed at Wisconsin. Huzzah.

I've just checked out Mary's blog, and must admit that I am deeply distrubed by her Jonathan Frakes comments, to wit: I don’t care what anyone says, for some reason that guy turns me on. Fat or thin. Bearded or unbearded. Number One can board my shuttlecraft any time. Um, ewww. If you're going to go for anyone on TNG, it's gotta be Picard, followed by Data (he is, after all, "fully functional") and Worf. Riker is just too sleazy and pleased with himself. Hell, I'd do Wesley before I did Riker. Actually, strike that. I feel ill just thinking about it.

No update yesterday. I apologize. I picked Laura and Jorge (my sister and brother-in-law) at the airport, as they have a stopover here on their way back from Montana, where they were camping and hiking and avoiding being eaten by bears. Wendy stopped by for a little while to share some of the scarier eaten-by-bear/menaced-by-buffalo/etc. stories from Yellowstone. A pleasant time was had by all. Glacier sounds pretty incredible. It's one the list, although I don't know if I really want to do a lot of back-country hiking, what with them telling me the story of the last known bear fatality in the park (apparently the poor guy was relieving himself, and was caught with his pants down, quite literally).

Then Wendy and I were talking about a book project that a friend of hers is working on, and I got to read the first 10 chapters. Good chapters. Now I want to know what happens next. What happens next hasn't actually been written yet. I find this unacceptable, and as an instant-gratification sort of girl, I protested vigorously. Apparently he thought he needed a goad to make sure he got his writing done on schedule. That would be me. He has no idea what he has gotten into.

I got a slightly disturbing e-mail from a friend yesterday, saying that he/she/it occasionally censored his/her/its mail to me, as he/she/it didn't want comments from the e-mail to end up on my blog. Understandable. I won't ever quote anything that looks to be sensitive without permission, and hell, you can always make me fall back on my journalism training by marking something as off the record or not for public consumption. I don't want to make anyone feel uncomfortable. Your secrets are safe with me. So, Newton, you don't need to worry about me telling anything about that sheep-shagging phase you went through. The rash has cleared up, right?

Went home before lunch with a migraine, slept for five hours, then went out to see Ghosts of Mars for Lotti's birthday. Very bad movie, but very fun to mock.

Mary's response to Newton's comments: You should tell Newton to fuck off. I assured her that I did, often and with great vigor.

So I'm open and honest about my reasons for not wanting to be open and honest in my blog, and what happens? I get yelled at.

What a load of old guff Jersild. Either you're up for public exposure or you're not. If you are, go for it. If you're not, put that thing away. Otherwise you're in that meaningless middle-ground of family-picture Christmas greetings and wish-you-were-here holiday postcards. Respect the power of this medium, goddammit. I could be using your bandwidth for political subversion.

Newton

PS: Oh yes, how's the old self-worth this morning then?

Oh, I'm just fine, thanks. Thanks for asking. This, I might emphasize, is someone who refuses to reveal his name on his site. So there. (Granted, his site is something that could get him firebombed, but still, I feel vindicated.)

Despite that fact, I've decided to try to let it all hang out, reveal all about myself. And what better way to do that than with silly-ass tests from thespark.com and emode.com?

Here are the results from thespark:



Untelligence test:
You are: 47% Un-telligent! which is significantly lower than the current average of 60% Here is the custom report of your personality that led our team of geeks to conclude (with confidence) that you are a sad and hopeless excuse for a woman:

The subject shows an astounding level of intelligence, and her sense of observation is one of her best qualities. Considering this, she shows a lot of potential, but that's only part of the equation.

Also, as much as we hate violence, an occasional mauling is one way to solve day-to-day problems like unpleasant coworkers or pesky door-to-door salesmen; she just isn't tough enough, sir, and she avoids any solution that involves violence.

Finally, the subject displayed a poor (and a little bit boring) sense of humor, a decent and respectable sense of morality, and a hot shot self-confidence. The balance of these three traits is important; high levels of confidence, medium levels of morality, and a good level of humor make for the strongest individuals.

I was educated by Quakers. Blame them for the violence thing. And just because I don't think you're funny doesn't mean I don't have a sense of humor.

Death test:
Mark your calendar or Palm V. You can expect to die on: June 2, 2040 at the age of 69 years old. On that date you will most likely die from:

• Cancer (26%)


• Heart Attack (11%)


• Suicide (10%)


• Third Degree Burns (8%)


• Alien Abduction (7%)


• Alcoholism (6%)


• Homicide (5%)


• Confusion (5%)


• Drowning (5%)

I would have thought confusion would have been much higher on the list.

Plus, I'm

• 38% gay


• 56% pure


• destined to sleep with seven people in my lifetime


• pegged as having the personality of a mastermind (submissive introvert abstract thinker).

As for Emode, it says that

• my celebrity match is Sting
  Since you're a sucker for aware, artistic Renaissance men, that makes [Sting] exactly your cup of tea.
  


• If I were a dog I would be a St. Bernard
  Loyal and goodhearted ... [y]our naturally protective personality is reflected in the way you treat people close to you. Sheltering your nearest and dearest from harm (or bad news, for that matter) is high on your priority list. ... People admire your strong morals — and how well you stick to them.See? See? I'm just trying to protect you all from bad news and such. I was bred that way. As for the high morals, I don't know how that meshes with 42% bitch and 35% slut
  


• My celebrity look is casual (like Meg Ryan, but hopefully with better hair)
  For you, a freewheeling, low-maintenance lifestyle is a simple virtue. Or laziness. Whichever.
  


• My inner rock star is Macy Gray (see above)
  You are an intriguing, glamorous, groovy girl—free and fabulous as they come. ... One minute sophisticated urban diva, next minute keeping it true to the street, you are style, sass, and cool without even trying.Does that "street" vibe come in just because I live in a "changing neighborhood"?



• I am midway between Good and Evil in matters existential, sexual, black-hearted and passive-agressive
  We all have evil thoughts, and you may have acted on a few of yours, but you're probably okay traveling through Buffy's turf. Or maybe you're an aspiring evil person and you've never given yourself a real chance. I vote for the latter.
  


• I will be married by Saturday, June 25, 2005
  On the social front, you are not looking at an immediate marriage prospect. ... Emotionally, you seem to be fairly ready for marriage. ... You have very few sexually motivated reasons for avoiding marriage. I'm sure my mother is thrilled.
  


• I'm a "silly flirt"
  You know that laughter is often the quickest way to someone's heart. Your conversations with "potentials" are always peppered with the latest jokes and catchphrases, and you'll do anything — including humiliating yourself — to get the object of your affection to crack a smile. Hmmm. I never realized I was trying to humiliate myself as a flirting stratagem. I figured it just happened.



• My aura has a Crystal vibe
  That shimmering, iridescent aura reveals your sensitive, introspective nature. A soft-spoken romantic at heart. ... when you occasionally misplace your rose-colored glasses, your idealism can take a pounding. That's when you retreat inward, spending meditative time by yourself to restore your sometimes-too-fragile outlook on the world. And I always thought that was basic misanthropy. I am a sensitive flower! So stop screwing with me, Newton, or I'll try to up my evil score by working on my "acts of malice against ex-boyfriends" and "placing houseguests in potentially horifying circumstances" catagories.
  

Now you know.

All right, both phone and modem seem to be working now. Huzzah.

Got a message from Zeke (whose real name is Mike, but who was introduced to me, against his will I think, as Zeke and it took me forever to realize that that wasn't his name, and now he's stuck with it in my mind -- sorry, Zeke) saying he had Googled me and found this site. Very cool. I'm glad that something associated with me is starting to show up on Google, rather than just the minutes of one Chicago Headline Club meeting that I crashed and a pathetic time on a 5K walk I did several years ago. I would hate to think that was my only legacy.

Anyway, Zeke asked me this: Do you treat it like a public diary? Keep a private one too or is the public one enough? Which bring up an interesting conundrum, one that Newton was complaining about too: All the interesting stuff going on in your life and you write about the weather! Are you sure you're not British? But this is the thing: It is a public site. My parents read this site. My workmates read this site. My ex-boyfriends read this site. My friends read this site. And sometimes, I don't want to share what’s going on with me with all these people. If I could present customized (i.e., self-censored) versions to each person, then I'd be talking about a lot more stuff. But I can't so I don't. For example, I'm not going to give you my innermost thoughts on what's going on at work, because (1) they change, and (2) I still work there, and going on about my private feelings could possibly screw up my public function there.

The other thing that makes me uncomfortable about this puppy is that I don't want to worry anyone/burden anyone/insert your stodgy-Northern-European-justification for not sharing feelings here with my problems/foibles/whatever. And I know this can happen -- Sam stopped writing in one of his blogs, as it was where he dealt with a lot of the crappy stuff going on, he was being honest, not funny/perky, and people thought that he was way too depressed. They worried about him. He didn't want that to happen, so he stopped writing. Are things any less tough/scary/whatever in L.A.? Probably not. But we have no evidence of it, so it's all good now.

So why have a blog at all, if you're not going to share everything? Good question. In part, because it gets me writing daily (barring communications breakdowns, really late nights, etc.) and I need something like that. I went to school for journalism, I can write, I want to write, and I don't do enough of it. As Wendy remarked, I have an internal editor that will not shut up. (Except she swore! I made Wendy swear! She never swears! For some reason, I find this significant -- complimentary, even.) This at least gets the juices flowing again, in a low-pressure kind of way. Note: Low pressure, not no-pressure. No pressure means I don't do it. I know people are checking this out, so I make sure I post something every day (keeping in mind the above disclaimers). So it's good for me.

But, see, I have what I suspect is a pretty common writer's disease -- I'm a really private person about a lot of things, but I really like the sound of my own voice. I tend to think I'm funny, when I'm not thinking I'm pathetic. Or sometimes when I am thinking I'm pathetic. That, and I'm crap about writing letters to people. (I know, I know, I call myself a writer, but I can't even write e-mails to my friends. Yes, I am evil and must be destroyed. get over it.) This site at least lets folks know that I am, in fact, still alive. And I like to think that it makes the nightmare scenario of being dead for several days without anyone noticing a little less likely. (Don't laugh. There was a story in the Trib a few weeks ago about two guys who lived alone in little bungalows in nice neighborhoods next door to each other who had died and not been found for months, in one case, and years -- 4 years! -- in another because they were loners and no one really kept in touch with them. The neighbors just thought they'd let their yards go, or gone out of town for a long trip, or something like that, and they didn't want to pry. Yipe.)

So anyway, a long, long, answer to your question, Zeke -- and not, I might add, one that I wrote you back with ... see? I'm crap at writing people! -- this is like a public diary, but it's a self-censored one. So instead of writing about impending traumas or job fears or getting depressed or whatever, I cover.... house traumas. The weather. The weird infestation of fruit flies or mayflies or something that are hanging out in my kitchen and bathroom -- on my toothbrush! Ewwwww.... -- and the like. (If anyone knows how to get rid of said insects -- and no, I don't know what they are, they're tiny, they fly, I think they came in on some flowers or fresh herbs or something that I brought into the house -- please let me know.)

Also, I'm going to try in the next few days to post some stuff I've written that I can't tell whether is funny or pathetic (including the internal editor bit that made Wendy swear!). They're a bit more personal than house trauma and such, so we'll see how it goes.

Oh, and hi, Zeke. Boston is definitely on the list of places to visit, but I'm burning all my vacation in one go later on this year (Australia, mate!), and therefore won't be going anywhere else ‘til next year.