Political Candid-

Adam is in Ohio, setting up internet access for the media coverage of President Bush today. He'll be home tomorrow (if his shoulder doesn't dislocate again because his boss kinda lied about the job difficulty and now I'm mad at the boss; because my husband will be doing work that he shouldn't).
Usually when the president gives a speech, or when presidental candidates give certain conferences, Adam's company is hired to set up some of the equipment.
(Dear Bush haters: This does not mean we are fans of GW Bush. Just because we don't ever spout grotesque* vitriol about the man doesn't mean we like him.)
I will be voting for Barack Omaba. I have my reasons. The fact that I am a registered Democrat means nothing. The fact that my husband is a registered Republican means nothing. The fact that we call ourselves Libertarians (who, by the way, are certainly not abominations, thank you) means nothing.

And people wonder why I don't discuss politics here on LJ. I feel sick every time I do, because people can become very ugly very quickly.

*(When used in conversation, grotesque commonly means strange, fantastic, ugly or bizarre, and thus is often used to describe weird shapes and distorted forms)

second gmail

I've created another email address for myself, specifically for non-personal purposes, like when a business or company needs my email address. When Adam and I did our taxes at H&R Block, I only had my personal email to give them and I realized I wanted something else. It's probably best to have a personal email and then a business email, anyway.

Swearing and generation gaps

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=89127830

I didn't utter a single "bad" swear word until I was a senior in high school. I never found any reason to, having no real friends outside of a scant few acquaintances. Some of my classmates actually started daring me to give them the middle finger, to say "fuck" or "shit." I think they found me to be a fascinating puzzle.
When I was little, my parents said "shit" and "fuck" around the house, and explained to me that most people didn't like when children said those words, so I just didn't say them, although I knew exactly what they meant in every context. My parents educated me well about that. My father, however, having been a Navy sailor in the late 1950's and early 1960's, made it a point to never swear even as his shipmates threw curse words around like confetti. He had instilled in me the understanding that those words were so offensive to most people that they were often forbidden, especially around kids. Even today, my dad gets easily shocked when he hears me curse. A couple of years ago when Adam and I were home for Thanksgiving, we were all watching Spiderman 2. There was a scene where Mary Jane was on a floor, about to be crushed by falling debris, and I just blurted out at the screen, "Oh would you just move, you stupid fucking cunt!" My father actually jumped a few inches out of his chair and his eyes got really wide. Adam and my mother burst out laughing. It really was funny. My dad finally saw the humor in it; he was just thoroughly stunned that his "baby girl" could curse that powerfully.
When I was a teenager, I was endlessly amused when friends of my parents told me to put my hands over my ears because they were "going to say a bad word" or that they'd say, "Oh, sorry, Joanna, I shouldn't have used that language in front of you." Even when I hit my twenties. I still looked like a teenager. Older adults didn't seem to realize that I was cursing like a sailor under my breath more than they knew.

Word By Word

"As you learn who your characters are, compassion for them will grow. There shouldn't be just a single important character in your work for whom you have compassion. You need to feel it even for the villain—-in fact, especially for the villain. Life is not like formula fiction. The villain has a heart, and the hero has great flaws. You’ve go to pay attention to what each character says, so you can get to know each of their hearts."

--Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life, p. 69

http://wrecking.org/write/index.php?title=Bird_by_Bird

Sometimes I feel way too much compassion for my villian. Sometimes I want to defend him until my writermind starts crying. And then I remember what he has done, what he is doing, what he will do. And that he was broken a long time ago. And why he is the villian. Still, it's sad. Poor Jeremy. I'm sorry.