In Someone Else's (Deck-Swabbing) Shoes

What's a pirate's favorite place to shop?

TARRRRRRGET!

Get it?

I went to New Orleans a few weekends ago for a bachelorette party. It was standard fare for a bachelorette party—pretty girls, trolling for free drinks, getting quite a few, and buying their own as well, special shirts for the bride-to-be and her cronies announcing their partying existence in the city, too much food, and stories that can only be partially shared due to their R-rated nature.
All in all, a great time.

We arrived late in the evening (well, okay, late for a Midwesterner, not really late for Bourbon Street) and checked in to the hotel, giving ourselves a few minutes of primping before we hit the Quarter. As the elevator slid slowly from floor to lower floor, three silly girls chattering in the car, we thought we were prepared for anything. Then the floor stopped on floor 8.

As the door opened, we shifted around to make room for new passengers, then looked up to see who might be joining us. And….pirates.

That's right, I said PIRATES. Dressed to the nines, looking like they were ready for an elaborate costume ball—makeup, props such as swords and eye patches and hats. We must have looked stunned, standing there in the elevator dressed in our best "going out" attire, staring back at the pirates.

"Oh, we're waiting for the rest of our party…you go ahead," one pirate said politely. The door closed and my good friend Aimee muttered "wait for it….wait for it…." The rest of us looked at her with wide eyes. Finally she determined we were a sufficient distance from the pirates' floor to blurt out with an ecstatically excited look on her face, "Pirate Convention!"
That's right my friends, PyrateCon 2009 was happening in New Orleans that weekend, and it made the city even more colorful (is that possible?) on our weekend trip. Maybe you're wondering (like I was) what one might do at a Pirate Convention. I've been to work conferences, where the days were filled with sessions about (in my case) technical writing, editing, advances in software, and showing off completed projects to your peers. I've got friends who attend the Star Wars convention every year, and seen both documentaries and parodies about ComicCon—I can imagine that there is plenty to do at those types of conventions.

Well, here's the PyrateCon 2009 schedule, but I kind of got the feeling that the main point of the Pirate Convention was to dress and act as a pirate. We saw pirates with live birds riding on their shoulders, pirates decked out like the Pirates of the Caribbean cast (seriously, you can't get any more creative than Johnny Depp?) and pirates that looked like the undead (I bet you've never heard of a vampirate).

I've told this story way too many times already since I've returned from my trip (you know how I love an audience). The typical response so far has been, "but why would anyone want to dress like a pirate?" This is what I have been thinking about this week.

Well, not why would a person dress as a pirate, but rather, why WOULDN'T one?

My hairdresser would probably assume I was starting a new hobby if I told her this story—she is constantly amused at the variation in my activities from day to day. But really, what's wrong with wanting to dress like a pirate? Why should that be considered weird? When I run down the list of my hobbies, I sometimes feel a little sheepish, because, as I often preface the list, they are sort of a list of the activities of a retired Midwestern woman…knitting, dog showing, fiddle-playing. Recently to that list I have added both indoor and outdoor volleyball. I also consider my obsessive reading and contributing to Facebook, Blogger, and Twitter a hobby.

People laugh when I give them this list—and some people poke fun. Not in a mean way, and I do love the attention, so I'm ready to handle it. When talking about my Twittering last week, a few of my workmates said things like "Twittering? What is that?" and "That's a lame hobby." I laugh, but I also ask them why they would say such a thing? Then I remind them of their own hobbies (fishing in competitions at 5:00 a.m. on Lake of the Ozarks--in a special fishing jersey, with sponsors, no less--or talking incessantly about fantasy sports, or traveling to Tool concerts all over the nation). Why is my hobby (or the pirates!) any weirder, or less acceptable, than any of these other things?

It isn't. We're all weird. My best friend from 4th grade and I used to pride ourselves on our weirdness—embracing the strange and the interesting things that made us different.

I've been thinking quite a bit this week about how hard it is for most of us to step outside of our own experiences and look at life from a new perspective—from someone else's viewpoint. To stand in someone else's shoes for a minute, and understand what the world looks like from a different vantage point. I like to think that I can do that, at least passably well. I'd like to do better.

So, with that, I'll leave you with a few photos of me with some pirates…who you can tell worked tirelessly and for many hours to prepare themselves for their week in New Orleans this year. Oh, and if you need to hire some undead pirates for a party, check out the Dark Dwellers on MySpace. That'd be a conversation topic for your event, for sure.

Vampirate! (Watch out Karen!)

The Dark Dwellers

Celebrity

I bought a new cell phone about a year and a half ago solely based on the fact that I can text from it—like a teenager. I mean, in the middle of dinner, while I wait at stoplights, during real life conversations with people, in the middle of phone calls…I love texting.

Before I bought this phone, I had to use the regular numerical keypad, which is not conducive to fast-paced typing, albeit abbreviated and punctuated with text slang. Some of those new phones, like the iPhone, or the new Google phone, or the Blackberry Storm with it’s clicking touch screen don’t really provide me with the functionality I [think I] need in a mobile device—I like my phone with its wide flip-open QWERTY keyboard.

The problem with loving to text is simply this: I am almost 30. Many people I converse with daily are NOT into texting. It seems like a waste to send text messages to people who don’t answer—it is MUCH more fun when it is a two-sided conversation. When I joined Facebook (I almost typed “the Facebook Revolution” here, because I really feel like it is something monumental I am involved in—is that weird?), I added Facebook Mobile to my phone.

On my text-based phone (I don’t have an internet browser or any cool applications that can run a real-looking version of Facebook), I can get text messages when people send me messages, or comments, and I can comment back on status updates and photos other people post. Facebook sends me text messages all the time, and I love it.

Well, over the past few weeks I have found something even better—TWITTER!!! If you aren’t on Twitter, I won’t try and convince you to join. If you don’t have the right mindset (for example, you hate knowing what other people are doing all the time), you won’t like it. I don’t really care if you don’t like it—or if you think I’m silly for using it. I will point out, however, that not only are all the cool kids doing it, but so are businesses, politicians, and…wait for it…celebrities!!!

I follow quite a few celebrities on Twitter. Some are stupid—their managers or “people” post things for them (that’s what Britney Spears and Ryan Seacrest do) and I am just not interested in the business side of it. However, I LOVE knowing what random things someone else is doing at a given moment, especially if they are charismatic and interesting. Maybe I’m a bit of a stalker…I don’t mind. You know they like it, these celebrities…don’t put it out there if you don’t want me to read it.

I have some followers on Twitter as well—it makes ME feel a little like a celebrity. I know I’m not all that interesting or glamorous, but sometimes I have something witty to say, or something funny, and I can put it out there in the universe. You can read it or not—that part doesn’t really matter to me all that much. A few people care a little about what I have to say, and I like knowing we can communicate in such a cool way.

Someone at work called me “sad” today for “caring about what celebrities are doing.” I thought about that for a little while—is it sad? I don’t think so…it’s something that entertains me. (By the way, I told him that if that’s how he was going to be, we could talk about his love of fantasy baseball or comic books….)

Some of the more interesting people I am currently following on Twitter are Soleil Moon Frye (you may know her as “the actress who played Punky Brewster”), John Mayer (singer-songwriter), Diablo Cody (author of the screenplay for the movie Juno), and Rainn Wilson (Dwight from The Office). They have interesting things to say, in a world that is outside my realm, and I like peering in from the other side of an SMS text message.

You can say what you want—but if you want me to read it you should probably say it on Twitter.

The "New" One

Because you're all dying of suspense...

So, less than 24 hours after my last post, I purchased a car. Seemed almost impulsive after the weeks and weeks I spent agonizing about this decision, but I think it just means that I finally did all the research I was going to do and there wasn’t anything else to consider. (Or, rather, if there was, I was going to consider my brains out for weeks turning into months and NEVER have my own car again.)

I ended up with the Infiniti. It’s a purple-blue color (the girls at work have decided it is “Midnight Blue”), has leather (heated!) seats, a great sound system, a sunroof, and a roof rack. These are pretty much the things I need to be happy in a vehicle. It also rates extremely highly with Consumer Reports and actual owners on Edmunds.com. I feel confident that it was a great choice.

One of the best parts about my shopping experience was Carl. The Infiniti was at a very small dealership in Edwardsville, KS, called JB Motors; it has 4 employees and is out in the middle of nowhere. I found a Honda CR-V on their lot using Cars.com, and was there checking it out when I noticed the Infiniti.

Carl is about 5’3” and has bright blue eyes. He also has a loud booming voice. He referred to every car we discussed as a “nice little unit” and called me “ma’am” every time he spoke to me. He explained in detail the features of each vehicle, along with a demonstration of each lever, button, and switch in the car. He gave great descriptions of the finer points of each vehicle, such as, “This Bose stereo, ma’am, I tell you what, you crank up the volume and it’s like you’re actually at the concert,” or “We got that Honda up and running for you just like new, sparkling like it’s just come off the lot. Really nice little unit, that one.”

He was very polite and accommodating, if a tiny bit overzealous in the way he contacted me (he called me quite often while we were discussing the vehicles on their lot). The key fob was missing for the car, so he told me that I could “go on the computer, you know, and order one, from that place, you know, where everybody goes to buy stuff? You know, on the computer?” I’m still not sure if he meant eBay, but that’s the first thing that came to my mind. (I ended up buying a new key fob from RemotesandKeys.com.)

So I’m happy with my purchase. There is a 90 day warranty, so I’m going to get the car checked out for everything that they cover and make sure I don’t need any work done.

Let me know if you’d like a ride in the “new” car (it’s actually older than my last one).

The (Current) Bane of My Existence

This week, I've been car shopping. Well, really, I've been shopping for a few weeks now, and even longer I've been shopping in my head and online.

Last week the insurance company paid off the loan on the ol' Highlander (may she rest in peace), so I'm ready to dive in to yet another loan and get something to drive myself around.

Thankfully, my friend Chris loaned me one of his (5) cars for about three weeks, so I haven't had to rent, and my generous roommate has waited around for me to be ready for work in the morning on the days I'm not driving Chris's car. As nice as it is to not have a car payment, and to be driven around, it probably is time for me to get my own ride.

I hate car shopping. When I was a teenager, my first car was a Pontiac Grand Am, 1988. I didn't really have a choice--that was the car my parents had, and my dad was driving a company van to work at the time, so it was mine by default. They told me I could drive it as long as I had a job and paid for my own gas. (One time I ran out of gas about a block from the house because I had run on empty for about three days, but I digress. Usually I bought my own gas.)

When I went to college, my sister got to drive the Grand Am (which by that time I had nicknamed the Pontiac P.O.S.). It drove all right, except for those few times it died in the middle of busy intersections, but the fabric header was loose and tended to rest on the heads of the passengers, and due to an unfortunate incident involving myself and a boy, the radio was broken and Alannis Morisette's Jagged Little Pill album was stuck in the tape player for over a year, playing in a loop.

My sister (she's a tricky one) wrecked the Grand Am by smashing into the rear end of a deer, and my parents bought her a newer car, while I was off at college bumming rides (including one where I almost drove a Mazda known as Lucy off the highway after picking someone up at the airport--Lucy perished in hurricane Katrina so I feel it is now safe to mention that I almost killed her in 1998).

When I was a senior in college, I took over the payments of my mom's car, another Pontiac Grand Am, this one a newer model (1995--I got it in 2000). Despite accidentally crashing into the garage door opening, that Grand Am lasted until just last year.

In the meantime, I got the Highlander (may she rest in peace). I bought the car at CarMax, which I highly recommend to anyone who hates car shopping. Pick out your car online, go to the store, pay the asking price. No haggling, no "let me check with my manager" business. It was a good experience, and I planned on driving the Highlander (may she rest in peace) until she died on me (have I mentioned I loved that car?). Little did I know that would be this year.

Anyway, the search for a car is overwhelming me. I am trying to be financially responsible but also buy a reliable car. There are a MILLION choices out there, and just when I think I've found something, it turns out to have a problem.

I don't even really care about cars that much--I've never really had a favorite car (unless you count when I was 14 and wished for a red Miata convertible, or when I was in high school and thought about how cool I would be if I had a Jeep wrangler). Now I wish I lived somewhere I didn't need a car, and could take public transportation, or that the weather was nice enough and I lived close enough to work to ride a bike. Purchasing something as large as a vehicle is daunting, and maybe this means that I'm becoming an old, boring adult, but I find this shopping experience excruciating.

I'm still looking, and reading reviews on Consumer Reports and Edmunds and checking Carfax reports and asking for advice. My most recent find is a 1999 Infiniti QX4 (I know, not exciting, and old--but it's reliable, gets good reviews, and is cheap!). We'll see how it pans out...I don't have much hope that it will be a painless process, but who knows. I needs me some WHEELS.

Focus (or Lack Thereof)

The last few weeks have filled my head so chock full that I haven't been able to focus.

I wrecked my car a few weeks ago, as you may have seen on this blog and elsewhere, and when the officer on the scene asked me what happened (and he actually said, "No seriously. WHAT HAPPENED?") I couldn't really answer. I know that I wasn't paying attention--I was thinking about anything BUT driving.

That morning, I read an email from a friend that consumed my thoughts for most of the day. Before I got in the car to take that last drive (R.I.P. Highlander!), my mom had me watch an episode of Oprah that got me thinking about myself, my free time, and my relationships with others. I planned to run a race the next day. I saw a play the night before and the songs were stuck in my head.

None of these things are reasons to drive my car off the road, I know. It's a horrible excuse, if you can even call it that. And my ability to focus has just gotten worse since then.

Dealing with the insurance to get a new car has been harrowing. I testified in court last Tuesday. Work has been insane the last few weeks; today I couldn't get anything done because I was working on too many things at once.

Tonight I played in a volleyball game and I had to keep reminding myself to pay attention to the ball--I caught myself staring into space more than once (not that I'm really any good at volleyball, internet, but I was worse than EVER tonight).

Even this post is disjointed. My thoughts feel jumbled.

I think I need to get back to yoga--it was definitely something that helped me focus. When I'm not focused, I tend to do things like fall down stairs or sprain my ankle. I miss deadlines and projects are harder to complete.

I'm trying to slow down my brain. The rain tonight helps a little--it's calming and relaxing, and I'm breathing a little deeper. If you have any advice for getting my mind back into a lower gear, I'd love to hear it.

A New Start

For those of you who peruse my blog, whether it's a habit (I'm in your list of daily blogs), or a compulsion (you know who you are), or you've just seen my Facebook updates and are curious, today is the one of those days where I start anew.

I have these days occasionally, and I'm sure you do, too. A lot of times, it's January 1st--you know the feeling: you've got your New Year's resolution phrased just so, and you have a plan of action you're ready to set in motion. Sometimes it's a birthday--yours or someone else's--and you feel the need to make a change for the better. Occasionally, it's after some other sort of momentous occasion--a birth, a death, a moving or tragic or frightening or hope-inspiring instance; one that makes you realize all there is out there in the universe, and you draft a mental note to yourself to modify your existence in some way.

I can't pinpoint the exact moment that sparked me towards change...it has been a long time coming. But I do feel like today marks a shift in my being--one that I know will take me along my journey in a new and very positive direction.

My marriage of six years ended today, legally and officially. The actual experience of finalizing all the paperwork and speaking in front of a judge was less than monumental--quiet, quick, and strangely sanitary. I sat for a while in a courtroom full of people at a crossroads in their lives, observing. Some of them made me feel sad, and some of them made me feel irritated, these people and their lawyers in a room where none of us knew each other and would never meet again, most likely. There were some people there that were hurting, and some that were full of anger, and some that looked frightened. I wasn't quite sure what to feel--I made a decision, based on what I believed best for me, and I was satisfied while I sat and waited that it was the right decision. Five minutes or less on the witness stand, a small, stapled stack of papers, and I was out the door--less than an hour after I arrived.

I ate a Nutella cupcake (incidentally, from my new favorite place in Kansas City, Cupcake A La Mode) and chatted with my friend Amy about love and life, and hugged her adorable baby for a while.

I write a lot about my personal experiences on this blog, and I tend to keep them about how I'm feeling, and how I think it relates to the rest of the world, attempting to keep from calling anyone out or making a virtual scene. This is a little more personal detail than usual--it just felt like something I needed to write down (or rather, type out).

I'm almost 30--and I'm not afraid of that number. I feel like the world is awash with endless possibilities--some of them challenging and scary, some of them gorgeous and amazing, and some of them clearly places in the journey where I'll have to make absolute decisions and go one way or another.

I feel very much like myself today--confident in who I am and what I believe in, secure in knowing that my friends and family love me no matter what, and hopeful for whatever is next to come. Thanks for checking on me here--I hope that whomever and wherever you are, you can find what it is that pushes you towards that place where you can be fully yourself and ready for whatever the universe throws at you.

The Highlander (Or, How I Spent Saturday Evening)

You know, I've always thought of my self as a good driver. I am currently questioning that assessment, and maybe you will too after you read this post (or maybe the picture is enough and you've already made up your mind). I was in a wreck yesterday, or, maybe more precisely, I wrecked my car yesterday.

I was driving in Springfield, Missouri, on my way to visit a friend. I didn't have the radio on, I wasn't talking on the phone, and I wasn't doing anything else that should have distracted me this much from the road. For whatever reason, I was too far over to the right side of the road, and was surprised by a road sign that seemed to be very close to the edge of the street, and so I jerked the wheel to the left (a.k.a., mistake number 1).

I was cresting a hill, and thought to myself, this is dangerous, I shouldn't be over on this side, so I jerked the wheel back to the right (a.k.a., mistake number 2). At that point, the car started wobbling, and I lost all of my good sense about driving (because really, my dad taught me how to drive quite well, almost 16 years ago). At that point, I hit the right edge of the road and next thing I knew, my car was resting on the passenger side and I wasn't sure which way was up.

There were some good samaritans along the road that helped me climb out of the driver's side door, and I stood there for a while waving at passing motorists who all had looks of horror on their faces, assuring them I was all right.

The police officer who came to the scene questioned me for a while about what happened, and I still am not really able to tell you what made me swerve all over the road. I was definitely distracted, and not thinking about driving in the slightest, but not by something in the car--just the things going on in my head.

The car was towed, and my dad drove me to Clinton, where we met Aaron, who drove me back to KC. I'm not sure if it's totaled yet, but the officer, the tow truck driver, and my insurance agent are all fairly sure that it will be. I guess I'll hear from the State Farm claims team on Monday about what to do next.

It was a surreal experience--I am mostly unharmed (there are bruises on the tops of my knees, a bump on the left side of my head, my right shoulder is a little bruised, and my neck is pretty stiff today). Thankfully, I was wearing my seatbelt, which is surely what saved my life--if I hadn't had my seatbelt on, I would have been thrown all over the vehicle, but as it was, I felt like I was riding on a roller coaster. I wasn't really afraid that I would be hurt as I was toppling over in the car, but I knew this couldn't be good. I think the pictures are pretty darn scary, and it's very strange to think that I was in the vehicle when it got thrown into this position.

Thanks for all the well-wishes, everyone, and please be careful. Wear your seatbelts, and make sure your loved ones do, too. It doesn't take much at all to send your car into such a dangerous tumble, so if I can at least tell you what I learned, it's not to get complacent about driving these giant scary machines we call our cars.