persephone33

So.

Everyone seems to have an opinion about social networks. Some people have a unbridled love affair with them, and cannot have lunch without tweeting what they ate, and some people think that blogs are the downfall of western civilization.

For my part, I'm somewhere in the middle. I've had my Livejournal nearly six years, and though I started with only other site users (and my mom) as readers, thanks to sites like Facebook and twitter, the entries I leave public can be read by anyone, including the guy I sat next to at my high school graduation (I honestly hadn't ever met him - it was a big school), my friends or even the unabomber.
( Rambly, wordy, opinions herein... )

As a writer, an actress, an artist and a fellow human being, I receive at least a rudimentary form of criticism for everything I do. Whether it's a review for one of my stories, someone who doesn't buy one of my bags, a raised eyebrow at one of my watercolors, or not getting cast when I audition, being criticized is tough.

I'm going to tell you a secret. I don't handle criticism well.

At all. Even a little.

What I do normally is call my mom and bitch about it, or throw a hissy fit, or vent for a while, and then I feel better, but there may be healthier ways to deal. (Not that those don't have their place, because they do. Certainly.

As an adult, a grown woman, and a recovering bitch, I've learned a few things about accepting criticism graciously. Or at least with a minimum of bloodshed.

( 6 ways to deal... )

Now I just have to practice what I preach. Harder said than done. :)

Some rhetorical, some Socratic, all valid.

Why do the workers finishing the road near my home insist on starting their Earth movers at 6:30 in the morning?

Why can I sleep through anything but that noise?

Why do my children find a way to argue over even things that they AGREE on?

Why do I spend time thinking about people who have hurt me?

Why do I still care about said folks?

Why is it 35 degrees during Spring Break?

Why is it when I can't turn my head, the Chiropractor has taken the week off?

Why is it that some of my dearest friends live so very far away?

What does the color blue taste like?

Why, when I need to hang on for dear life to the barely tangible threads of plot, that my characters want to chatter on about nothing in particular?

Why is Penny dating Leonard when Sheldon is the clear choice? COME ON!

Why won't Bones and Booth JUST ADMIT THAT THEY lurrrrrrve each other?

Why do mushrooms taste so good in everything?

Why, when I KNOW I need a good wine opener, do I CONTINUALLY forget to buy one?

***

I think I'll soldier through with the wine opener I have, have a few glasses, and maybe I won't care about these questions quite so much. ;)

Good day to you all.

As I now live in my sedate, homely little burgh of one hundred-eighty thousand people, I sometimes forget that I grew up in Irving, Texas; that's a suburb of Dallas, for those of you not well-versed in the geography of the Lone Star State. The city, if you include Ft. Worth and count the surrounding cities, comes to a staggering one point something kagillion people; no lie. Anyhow, I grew up there, traveled all over the metroplex, learned to drive on the highways and byways in the nebulous group of towns where one bleeds right into another and the only way you know you're somewhere else is the tiny green sign you blow by at eighty miles per hour.

I say eighty miles per hour, not because it's the posted speed limit, but because if you choose not to go that fast and say... obey the law, you and your car run the risk of being flattened into a greasy spot on Interstate 635.

I wasn't even driving when we were visiting this past weekend, but Nolan did a great job of maneuvering us through the mess. And he didn't even seek retribution of the other drivers - regular readers of this journal know that my husband has to sometimes be convinced that he is, in fact, NOT the right hand of God, distributing justice to those who've wronged him or others on the road - especially with the people that change lanes giving a hairsbreadth of space between cars. It's an adrenaline pumping, heart-racing thrill ride that you simply forget about when you live in Amarillo. That is, until you come to a screeching halt and you're just STUCK in a line of traffic that you think stretches perhaps as far as Indianapolis, making me absolutely PINE for the annoying series of stoplights on Bell street surrounding I-40, and the fifteen minutes that gets you absolutely anywhere you want to go in town.

I miss the shopping in Dallas, the nightlife, my family and friends, but driving fifty minutes to work for a fifteen mile trip is not something that I ever want to go back to. Amarillo's breezes may not be the best perfumed if they come from the general direction of Hereford, but there's wide open spaces y'all, more sky than you can shake a stick at, and some of the most awesome sunsets that you'll ever see. Come visit and see for yourself, only behave yourself on the roads. I can't watch Nolan ALL the time.

I've done this in the past and some of these are mildly amusing, so I thought I'd do it again. I took the first sentence, or sometimes the title, from the first post of each month of 2009. I liked 2009. I think I'll miss it.

( Year In Review )
I've been up for two hours and have been watching it snow the entire time. It shows absolutely no signs of stopping, which is fun. We have nowhere to go for New Year's Eve, So I really don't mind a bit of weather. It's pretty, too; the white has blanketed everything the winter has turned ugly and dormant.

Tomorrow begins a new year, a clean slate, and empty canvas on which I can start all over again. The orderly part of me, the small, tiny part of me that is left-brained, really enjoys the idea of starting over and making lists that i can cross things off of. I even have some resolutions. So. *bounces on toes* All you kids have a safe New Years Eve, and I'll see you in 2010!

I like to think I have a rather easygoing disposition. Maybe too much so - I'm profoundly uncomfortable with disagreement. I don't argue. I don't fight. I don't like debate. Though, I feel like normally I can see both sides of an issue pretty well. It's not as if I have an opinion and am too scared or choose not to share it, I'm simply ambivalent most of the time. Honestly? I don't care. Either that or I'm crippled by the decision making process. (But only in things like what restaurant to go to or what I'm going to write. Nothing truly important.)

When I do have an opinion, and I think the person I'm talking to can handle it, I share it. If not, I just keep quiet.

However, there are people in my life who seem to have a pathological need to share an opinion. Who adore debate. Who think that a down and dirty, scrappy, no-holds-barred, fight to the finish sounds like a great way to spend an afternoon.

So how do I meet those needs since I'm the complete opposite of that personality? How do I meet them in the middle? Because honestly? It's becoming a bit of an issue for me.

And I think we can all agree I certainly don't need any more issues. :P

I went to a funeral today.

And if you can say such a thing, it was the best funeral I've ever been to.

It was truly a celebration of a life, not a mourning of someone's passing.  My across the street neighbor from when we lived on Sunset Terrace passed away on Sunday.  He was a sweet, sweet man, who always had a grin and wave, even in passing.  He was a huge supporter of the theatre, and he was always sitting front row center at all of my shows (as well as everyone else's, I'm sure) and he always had a kind word to go along with that infectious smile.  He made special treats for the boys on every Halloween, and baked an endless supply of Christmas treats each December.  Everyone loved Dennis.  And isn't that how you want to be remembered?  As someone who made a positive impact on people's lives?  I do.  And so I will try to take a leaf out of Dennis' book.

The family had a couple of our theatre friends play and sing Love Song by Elton John, and Let It Be, by the Beatles.  It was awesome.

Dennis will be missed.  Sorely missed, but I'd bet that he's in a much, much better place than here.