Black Friday

The news showed people being trampled. Pushing and shoving until one, then more, land on the floor. The others just rushed over them. For a free case of CDs? To save a few bucks on the new X-Box? Hard on the heels of a quiet Thanksgiving Day comes Black Friday. We give thanks, then we shop with a vengeance. Shoppers shake off the turkey's tryptophan and rise early to get a jump-start on Christmas shopping. Some stores welcomed customers at 3 or 4 in the morning. CompUSA opened at 11:59 Thanksgiving night. It's almost as bad as playing Christmas music after Halloween. Maybe it's worse.

I don't participate in this ritual. But, my family picked it up several years ago, like a bad habit. The first year, my husband had his eye on some deals. He headed out at 6 a.m., alone. I thought he was crazy. Our oldest, a college student at the time, thought he was cool.

The next year Amie wanted to go along. The lines were long, but Amie and Gary double-teamed. One went right for the checkout line. The other shopped. They did three or four stores this way, scarfing up freebies along the way. They were home by 9 a.m. We scored with a new TV, a DVD player (our first), and assorted computer accessories. And, lots of rebates to process. The following year, Amie insisted they go again. She loved the thrill of a good deal. A tradition was born.

By last Thanksgiving, Amie had relocated to California. She wanted to save her plane fare for Christmas. We missed her. But, on Black Friday, we just moved on: The younger one said she'd go. Gary and Sarah headed out before 6 a.m. to get in line. Circuit City offered a Cat in the Hat look-alike and free donuts—definitely the best pre-dawn, pre-store-opening deal. We ended off with more free CDs, $5 DVDs, a flash drive, battery back-up, and so on. I prayed I'd never be drafted.

This year, Gary prepared early. He scanned the newspapers Thanksgiving morning. He consulted Sarah. They came up with a strategy: What to target. Where to hit first. Where to go last. What time to head out. You'd think it was a bank heist. Might as well have been: Grandma ended up with a flat-screen HDTV for her birthday and Christmas. Gary set it up quickly in her family room. We were all in front of it by evening. Of course, the assorted freebies and rebate items appeared, too. But, we were more interested in the TV. Especially the news. The war in Iraq was eclipsed for the day. The big news was people trampling other people at shopping malls on Black Friday.

Parlor Mission Statement

I couldn't see fictionalizing the Parlor mission statement if I didn't have to. So, I got in touch with Mikael Johnson. She's a student, is on the Parlor editorial staff, and works in the Graduate Department office. Here's what she had to say:

"Our purpose is twofold: We want to publish anything and everything that reflects the newer movements in writing (even stories that aren't an attempt at modernism are valid as writing) AND we want to give a chance for our MFA students to engage in the process of becoming working writers (it's mostly about the first one, though). The parameters were literally only in word length (max of 5,000). The genre is everything (for now). [After further inquiry, I learned this means poetry, fiction, and nonfiction.] We didn't want to limit the creative process or do a "theme" lit mag, as we are also trying to validate the lit mag's existence, to hopefully go national in another year or so ( i.e. solicit submissions from outside of the the Rosemont community). Really we just want to give a chance for writers who aren't simply spewing out something remotely resembling modernism (since the New Yorker can't seem to break out of its '70s mentality) to be taken as serious writers."

Hope that helps!

An Update

Catching up: A lot has happened in a week. I've been called to be thankful for all I have. I've also had to deal with what I soon won't have—a job. All forwarded postings gratefully appreciated. I'm working on some leads. It will be interesting to see where this goes...

Hot Text
Chs 11 and 13 were ambitious: Writing for a Genre was a blip in the radar compared to Persuading Niche Markets, Individuals, and the Press. A lot of reading, but all good stuff. I hope I have the opportunity to use it.

For marketing copy, you must recognize a genre, adapt your tone, and pick up that persona. Christopher Locke's RageBoy was an interesting example. Writing for niche markets requires a lot of work. But, writing "honest copy" is a refreshing idea. Bury the mission statement? I see trouble brewing for some corporate webwriters. Then, an about face: Provide more rather than less product information. MySimon provided an interesting example. A lot of good info.

Writing online press releases requires different skills. Answer reporters' questions. Be available. Provide quotes. Capture the gist of the story in the subject line and header. Create standard "about the company" copy that can be lifted and used by others. (I wasn't familiar with the term boilerplate.) Build a full online press center (on a separate subpage?). Include annual reports, white papers, etc. Anything to back you up. Again, solid advice.

Rosemont Online Lit Mag
Moving along. Looked at more online mags. Wrote mission statement. Designed index page. Compiled checklist. Chose colors. We'll get together Thursday and finalize a lot of this.

Blog
Question: I'm trying to show my archived blogs on page 1. I see on the ftp site that they're automatically archiving, which is good. (At first, I thought the earlier ones were being deleted!) But, I don't see how to get them to list in a month/year folder on page 1. I see that Carleen's archived blogs show up on page 1 of her blog, but I don't think anyone else's are. (Their folders are empty or don't exist.) Can anyone advise?

A Funeral

I attended a funeral today. Sara was 51 years old, a kindergarten teacher. She lost a courageous, four-year battle with cancer. She leaves behind Jack, her husband, and three children: a son, and two daughters. The youngest daughter, Meredith, is a freshman at an all-girls high school. Her entire class was there. Sara's oldest daughter, Marissa, a college student, stared ahead as I hugged her. It all was going to take a while to register with her. Sara's own mother, frail and distraught, made her way to the front pew on her son-in-law's arm. The church was packed.

The priest delivered a lovely sermon. About how he didn't know Sara personally, but that we are all connected in a "sea of humanity"—beyond knowing, beyond religion, even. When something is added, that is felt by the whole. And, when something is taken away, that, too, is felt. When kindness is shown, it goes out to all. Sara taught children and old. She showed kindness. Her grown students came to the viewing to pay their respects. Her ripple was felt throughout the whole fabric of humanity. And, now, her passing is felt, as well.

But, I look at Marissa's face, and I think: There should be a law against this. Bad people should die. Good people should live. Nineteen-year-old girls shouldn't lose their mothers. Eighty-year-old mothers shouldn't lose their daughters. Why does this happen?

A baby cries. Her dad grabs her diaper bag and heads toward the door. Noses sniffle. A soloist sings. "All I ask is forever to remember me as loving you..." Jack has a friend read what is essentially a love letter about his life with Sara. They first met when she was 15 and he 18. When they married, they hyphenated their last names. She directed the course of his life, he said. She was his best friend. They prayed for a miracle to end her cancer, but she was the miracle. The miracle in other people's lives.

A mother and daughter hold hands throughout the Mass. They cry softly in each other's arms. They still have one another, and they will make every day count. We stop crying. My daughter Sarah looks at me. I say to her, "We have to adopt Marissa, you know." She nods in agreement...

One Bad Week: A Personal Blog

Okay. I ended up with a job interview this morning. I really needed that, with my website due and many problems to resolve. Preparing for the interview made it almost impossible to concentrate on working out the bugs in my site. The job I was applying for was a stretch. So, for a while I concentrated on brushing up on (aka learning) anything related, to wow them with all my knowledge. It was a lot of work. I stayed up late doing nails, picking out clothes, checking out industry websites, reviewing my script, and bouncing back and forth between that and my website. I hardly slept.

In the end, I decided to be honest. To try to convince them that although my current knowledge in the area was limited, I was enthusiastic and resourceful and could do the job. Because I was already in-house, I was the better bet. By 9:30 this morning, it was all over. I think it went well, but let's just say they didn't offer me the job on the spot.

It was a busy morning. Staff lunch with the association president. She rolled out the new strategic plan. No lunchtime with my website for me. Back to my office about 1:45. At least I'll take a peak at my webpages, to get some ideas. I stopped to ask my boss if I could work at home tomorrow. If I cut out commuting time, I could probably finish up my site. I was going to need every minute. The tables are nesting within tables. The division class isn't working. Neither are my CSS codes, at least not all the time. (Don't ask me. It all made sense when we went over it.)

My boss delivered the coup de grace. The HR person appeared and closed the door. Not a good sign. My job will be gone, come end of December. I had been afraid of this. The new strategic plan reduced work in my department, and I was the last one on board. A lot of what I was doing was being phased out. I had been waiting to see if they came up with new work and hoping for the best. Hey, one can always hope, right?

No such luck. I went into shock, I think, looking at the termination letter in front of me. My daughter's tuition bill is due in January, and I am going to be out of work. And, after two years at DIA, I'm going to have to start all over again somewhere else. I cried a little. I told a few people. Boss said I could leave early. I packed up my things. Gotta get home to my website.

OK. Here I am. My eyes are swollen. My brain is fried. A great condition to be in to work out bugs in html code. Wish me luck...

One More Catholic Rant

When will they realize they are not God?
That Jesus Christ would never treat women, homosexuals, congregations,
The way they treat them?
That Jesus would never have to cover up like they do?
That they are human and should act that way?
Humbly.
Like they don't know everyting.

They talk about forgiveness.
Ha!
They still don't get it. Forgiveness is not the issue.
Trust is the issue.
With a feudal lack of transparency.
Like any other human institution,
They set themselves up for the fall.
Well, you know what they say about pride...

When will they realize that they are not the Church?
That the people are the Church?
That they are just servants?
What will convince them?
That they don't know the answers to everything.
That they don't know their ass from a hole in the ground.
Maybe this is the moment.
Maybe now, Catholics will wake up.

Nah. People will always follow like sheep.
They have to.
They can't (won't) think for themselves.
The Church will live on, for them.
They will just put their blinders back on,
When things simmer down,
And say, "Yes, Father!"

On the other hand, I feel sorry for the good ones.
The ones who are crying now because they themselves were duped.
The ones with true vocations.
They would have never done such things,
Or knowingly protected such monsters.
Are they all bad?
No. Are all people bad?
Is anyone perfect?

The problem is not what they did,
But how they got away with it—the Church covered it up.
Hide everything: Foremost, we must protect the Church's reputation!
(It's the reputation, stupid!)
Well, didn't that backfire?
The Church would have a better reputation today if it had policed its own,
If it had turned the accused over to the authorities,
Like other institutions have to.
The problem is that people follow them blindly,
Believe everything they say.
Blindly.
I feel sorry for all of them, accused and duped. Their fall was steep.

As for me, I've been arguing with them for years.
I'm a black sheep.
I knew they weren't perfect.
But, they called it a Lack of Respect.
That I can't accept Authority.
Definitely.
Respect is earned, and mine is hard earned.
So, I saw it coming.

So, I can forgive them.
Because I know that they,
like me,
are human.

Webzine Review

Review of a Few
The 13th Warrior site is clean,but the links could use some work:
1. Get rid of underlining.
2. Put space between them, so turn lines are clear.
Also, the art worries me. It's skewed vertically. Finally, the links are author's names only—no titles. I found myself wondering about the title of the journal, but there was no explanation.

I hit on 42opus, and had no idea what I was reading. The page was titled "In Toto"—what does that have to do with 42opus? OK. If you click on contributor's notes, you see that In Toto is just one work published in 42opus. They just need to get their index page linked correctly. The TOC for the issue appears on the contributor's page, which is designed simply and easy to read. The newest additions are listed first, which made me think this was just one running issue. Each genre was listed, then the author, then title. Then, the next item. So, genres were repeated. It seemed to be an odd set-up. One perpetual issue...

Amarillo Bay: Good God. Let's talk about verbosity: "Amarillo Bay is the online literary magazine containing the finest modern literature." Is this translated from another language? Read on for "What Is a Literary Magazine?" From the writing, it appears as though they're trying too hard. Mercifully, there are links to the contents and previous issues, in case you want to skip all this. The issue itself? The format is serviceable: it works but it's not exciting. The contents page gives a paragraph of each work; the reader can decide whether to go on. The font and links are clean.

Just one more: Aught.I was turned off by a couple of things on the general site: the color tan, and text aligned flush right. This one made me want to move on. Also, I can see that I'm not thrilled with reading text with too much formatting (quotes, bold, italic). (Which makes me wonder about my project 2, where I may have become too literal with this kind of thing myself.)

I clicked on issue no 14, and what did I hate? The color green and right aligned text. Right aligning might have worked, but not with the italic or the light text on the dark background. It's difficult to read. But, I found that the titles were much easier to read than the actual poetry, which looked like it had been diagrammed, or was part of a chemical formula. I guess I just wasn't geting it. And, it's all on a dark background, which made things worse. I guess I'll stick to prose...

Well, it's good to see what's out there!

Bungle in the Jungle

A Miracle
Well, project 2 is coming along. I feel like I dove into the melee blindfolded and came up, hours later, with more success than I imagined. I knew where to look for html, css, and color info (w3schools, visibone, handouts & printouts, my class notes). Most of what I coded (most line html, the table format) came up as predicted, although much formatting in the css header code did not. (Some text did; colors did not.) All in all, the layout took shape, and the text was clean and readable.

Miracles to Come
Still have to work out: How to get color backgrounds to come up. How to get rid of underlining in links. How to get all css formatting to show up. How to make the header area lay out properly (and text to format as desired). Upload to see if photos are sized right. Search box: how to create one? A few other minor things. It sounds like a lot, but really, things look pretty good. I'm breathing a huge sigh of relief. Similar to taking a Calculus test in college and finding out I didn't flunk it...

Improvements to Be Had
With job and freelance work, I've been pressed for time this semester, but it's nothing unusual. (I've learned that it's almost impossible to send yourself through graduate school while your kids are going to college.) I'm storing the resources available through this course, especially those I never had a chance to explore, for future reference. (Elizabeth's "useful links" section is replete with such resources.) This class is amazing in what it has taught those of us unfamiliar with creating websites. Even if we haven't done everything we could.

Bloggers Unite

Just came across this on the CNN website. It's about Mena Trott, co-founder of the successful web log publishing company Six Apart. Interesting perspective from Trott on the evolution and future of blogging. She calls it a kind of online journal we use to "have our voices heard"...sounds like our class! She also touches on women and blogging. Thought I'd mention that, since our class is 99% female (sorry, Joe!).

Manic-Depressive Class

Weekend: A Life of Its Own
For me, this class has its extreme highs and lows. Some lows came this weekend. I got a slow start and a lot less done than I had planned (see Reunion blog). Then, a complete brain meltdown on Sunday when trying to code Project 2 with table & CSS html. I don't even have it to the point where some of it's working and I have questions. And, there's all that content to prepare for subpages 1-4, plus links! Ack! Good thing the hangover's finally gone...

The Upside
Meeting defeat on the project 2 front, I thought I'd review the literary mags. Good God! The sites were (mostly) so beautiful and the works (mostly) so inviting. What inspiration! What a venue for writers! Maybe I'll submit some of my own pieces. At last, I've found a venue (several, even?) for all the things rattling around in my head. Now I just have to get more of them down "on paper." But, my blogs are helping. I'm writing more regularly than I ever have before. What I need to do is to fix my own writing deadlines. I can do that!

Reality
OK. First I have to get through this class. And that means tables and style sheets and html. Maybe I'll simplify my design some, to make it more manageable for someone of my limited webdesign capabilities. But, I can design. I just can't code. No matter—code, and get through the class!

Blogger on Media

Paul Mirengoff, a conservative blogger, brought to light the fact that the documents CBS News used in covering George W. Bush's National Guard service were forged. (Of course, my husband and I think the forged documents were GOP plants, designed to discredit the press, but no matter. Did you notice that Dan Rather "retired" soon afterward? Throughout his career, he had given the Republicans a run for their money.)

Anyway, Mirengoff spoke to a group of students at NYU recently about the alleged effect that blogging journalists could have on the mainstream media. NYU invited Mirengoff to speak as part of the journalism department's "brown bag" lunch series.

You can read the whole article here.

The Reunion

I'm sure you're wondering how it went. It was Friday night. I was on a crash course with that date all week. School work. Work work. Freelance work. Multiple deadlines converging, culminating with Friday, the date of the reunion.

The Day Of
I arranged with my boss to leave work at 2:00 pm. Two hours to get ready, then a two-hour car ride to the Jersey shore. The event begins at 7:00. Somewhere I read "sharp" after the time. Yeah, right. Errands after work: the cleaners and the car wash. Fax an invoice to a client. Print business cards to take with me. Still need to decide what to wear. What Gary should wear.

Forget the Dress
Bought a dress. Having second thoughts. Recent Reunion Update email said "dressy casual." What in the hell is dressy casual? The dress cost $100. I don't need it—it's going back. I've got plenty of slacks. Casual means slacks, right? Tried the dress on one more time. Damn, it looks good. Normally thrifty hubby says, "Won't you need a dress for the holidays?" Bad influence.

Got out the slacks. A nice Boutique pants outfit: Long vest, loose pants with drawstring waist, in plum and gold. Had it for years. Looks exotic. With raspberry longsleeve poloshirt and gold jewelry, burgundy boots. Great! Definitely dressy casual. And, a different look from last time, for sure. At least they won't be able to tell I ate Halloween candy all week long. (Was a stressful week.) Did my hair. Certainly no longer blonde. Looks good. Hubby's dressed: blazer, sports shirt, black dress pants; new black shoes. Dressy casual, I guess! I tell him he's my trophy husband. I want to show him off (he's not fat and bald). Let's go.

Arrival
So, we're a half-hour late. I called it fashionable. We're accosted at the front door by Nancy and Paul. Marjy meets us just inside. OK, there's our table. What, no dinner? Just a four-hour cocktail party? With a cash bar? Before the first margarita goes to my head, I struggle to figure out what I paid 80 bucks for. Well, the Lobster Shanty is on the Manasquan Inlet in Pt. Pleasant Beach. And, we did get a color booklet with everyone's bio and contact info, plus a CD with "Sounds of the Class of 1975" on the label. No complaining to the committee; they look haggard. I'm sure it was a thankless job. We settled in for the evening.

An Amazing Time
Lots of suits and short black dresses. What happened to dressy casual? I scan the room and scramble to remember names (mostly, I look at the name tags many wear). It's been 30 years. At this point, sometimes I can identify people by their eyes. Vague recollections come to me. Thank God for the tags. Could have done without my high school yearbook picture on mine, though. Gary says, "Gee, the glasses look just like the ones you're wearing now." Why did I bring him, anyway?

Oh, my God, I loved you in high school! Hugs, kisses. Hey, is that you, Joanne? More hugs, kisses. Jerry from grade school. A long talk with his wife, who I just met. Sweet girl! Bob, you lived across the street from me! Harriet, smart and crazy in high school (we loved her), greets us: "So, are you the one who spawned an MIT graduate?" Harriet, all the way from Anchorage. Lisa, so sweet; possibly a new friend? Kim has on the dress I almost wore. Glad I decided against it. Compliments on my outfit. It's very different. (And dressy casual, damn it.)

So many people I didn't know well then. I was too shy. I want to get to talk to them now, though. And,who's to say I can't? They're cops, housewives, artists, social workers, architects, salespeople now. Some are married; some are single. Some started families early; some late. Some live in Pt. Pleasant, some in California. Romances that lasted, those that didn't. High school crushes confessed now. I tell Gary he's a sport for putting up with all this. Then, The Class Picture.

After Party
It's 11:30 and they're throwing us out. The night is young. Where're we going? The Ark, a favorite pub, a couple of miles away along a deserted, ocean-front road. There in 10 minutes. We fill the place. Pitchers of beer. Nacho platters. Calamare. Wings. We're thirsty; the beer tastes good. The food is great. More high school stories. Nancy's cousin, a long-haired "pothead" then, is the life of the party. Now a painting contractor, he looks like Richard Gere. What a riot! I'm falling on the floor, laughing. The football team all together. The class officers. The rest of us. All together, saying how we have to do this more often. So sad to see it all end. Some will go on to breakfast in Allenwood the next morning, others to a benefit for the retired football coach Saturday night. As for Gary and I, we're heading to Gary's mom's, about an hour away. Good thing he wasn't drinking. I was asleep before we got out of Pt. Pleasant.

Saturday Morning
Who the hell hit me in the head? And with what? I need coffee. Gary has to get to a Robotics competition. Mom's voice hurts my head. Everything hurts my head. Margaritas, then beer? What was I thinking? I rarely drink either, never mind both. I have too much to do today to be in this condition. OK, let's just get through the day. Three ibuprofren. Just like old times.

But, thoughts of Nancy, Marjy, Joanne, Lisa, Linda, Bob, Jerry, Frannie, Drew, Harriet, Wendy, Debbie, Mary Lou, and more, and everyone, came into my head. Was it worth it? You bet. We have to do it more often. Maybe I'll send out a group email and invite everyone out to our place next summer. You don't think they'd all come, do you?

Good Night, And Good Luck

Um, does history repeat itself?

Screw Scrabble

I love the game, but I've decided that I don't care about the fucking table. I can live without it or I can buy a new game...

OK, now that I've vented...I wouldn't normally spend a half hour looking for anything on the web, but at the end of it, I was committed only to emailing the manufacturer's customer service department. Despite Elizabeth's explicit instructions. Then, putting myself in a looney bin.

I promise never, never, never to be so illogical in organizing my website and anticipating my viewer's needs...