Torn.

Every now and again, I get a little tweet happy and I feel the need to pull in the reigns. I mean, sometimes I'm funny, witty and sarcastic. Other times I'm boring. Sometimes I feel like I've got something to contribute, others I feel like I'm tweeting just to people don't start to un-follow me (it does help me with my Etsy to tweet).

I feel empowered to have a voice and multiple platforms on which to express it. I have mentioned it before here, but I went to school for writing, and when I want, I can make a point. I love writing, after all, I am a grammar nerd. Dan caught me once distracting myself from cleaning by reading the illustrated Elements of Style, and I (99% of the time) like cleaning!

This, I feel is probably where my writing background comes in and I realize, that I have no point. What I say has no purpose or direction. Essentially, I'd edit myself out if I had the ability because it isn't clear and concise. Thankfully, only in a rare time, do I get what I'll call "Erin-pression" I'm not depressed, but I'm certainly not myself. It falls usually when there's a big event, be it for better or for worse, but I start analyzing the words I use.

Words are so powerful and moving, but they can also be rather useless in a world that's so saturated with media and technology. Words help, but a picture can be just as poignant. I found myself last week complaining with coworkers about how hot it was in our office (no AC) when I happened to glance at a calendar realizing there was a date coming up that struck a cord with me. I realized in that instant that who cares? Really, if I could change the reasons for that dates sensitivity and be stuck in a sticky, sickly gross office for the rest of my professional career, I'd do it.

I tweet/blog/email about random crap that bothers me like traffic. Well here's something brilliant, I accepted a job in the city 19 miles from where I live. I knew taking this job that there would be a commute with hundreds of others every day that would muck up my mornings and evenings. And more importantly, I was not the only one that had to deal with it. Really, I don't get too bothered, I get temporarily annoyed, no sooner do I arrive at a job I really love, or my apartment that houses a husband whom I really love, that a slight inconvenience is nothing compared to how thankful I am for both.

Do I think my words will change the world? Absolutely not. However, as of recent events in my life, I will begin to look at the big picture. Sure, it's hot in my office, but I don't live in this office. There are homeless people on the city streets who would love to be able to call my office theirs, who would drive miles for a job at a pay less than mine just to have health insurance and food on the table.

In a few more words than I'd like to with this rambling, I'm going to continue to use my voice, but the whiny bitch is being muted.

fin.

Things I don't get

Okay, so there's a lot of things I don't quite get. But, I think this will be a regular thing I do in order to express my confusion, frustration, shock, whatever it is.

Today's topic: Cat-calling.

So this morning, I'm walking to Dunkin' Donuts to get my morning coffee and as I'm walking I pass a group of 5 or so guys. They immediately start up, and I ignore them. From the group I get "oooh sexy walk" because obviously I'm working the street like I'm working a McQueen runway, a kissy sound, and god only knows what in some language I don't know.

So really, what was I supposed to do? Rip off my clothes right there and say "let's go"? And honestly, had I stopped and said something, what would they follow it up with? "Hi, I'm Jeremy..."? Oh man, you're such a dreamboat! How'd you know I've been waiting to hear those words all my life!

Seriously, it was just too much before my morning coffee. Don't these people know that while I'm awake, I'm not functioning (and sometimes rather grumpy) until I have that coffee? I just don't get it. What is it that makes guys feel the need to call out to women in that kind of way. Do I look like the kind of person that wants to feel like a piece of meat? Was it because I was wearing open-toe shoes? Maybe these guys have a foot thing, and really enjoyed my blue painted toenails? Either way fella's, you just amuse me...and then I belittle you and mock you later. Don't say I didn't warn you.

...And if it was the feet, you've got the wrong girl.

Why hello there!

What have we here? A sad and lonely, extremely neglected blog? Yes, I thought it was familiar. Last post was welcoming Spring, and here we are now...July 1.

I've been doing a whole lot of workin', and workin' out. I've been looking at beads, but not doing much with them. I did, however, make my cousin a gorgeous prom necklace:



And it got me thinking. Really long and hard thinking. The kind of thinking where I just have words and thoughts running through my head and I get reeeal quiet. That kind of thinking. Dan would catch me deep in thought while he was talking. No, husband, I was not thinking deeply about the Pawn Stars episode we just watched, sorry. But I've essentially come to a conclusion...

STOP THE CRAP, ERIN

This applies to much I have had going on in my life. Writing is what calls to me. You have no idea how many little thoughts I've had where I was then followed with "I should write about that" and not just for this little bloggity-blog...but in all areas. I have a writing degree, I've always been a writer...ever since I could write...and before then, I drew out my stories and thoughts (you should see my "stories" from when I was 4 in which our heroine, yours truly, goes to get jelly beans with her Finny...if you know my Nana, she'll proudly show them.) So, here I am....writing.

Much like what I like to do with my jewelry, my writing (and thus, the direction of this blog) will be everywhere. Fashion? Yup! Food? Oh you betcha! Etsy and jewelry? Oh yes! Trashy Real Housewives gossip? omg. gimme! Random thoughts and stream of conscious flow? Yes, and I apologize in advance.

Also, along with the cutting of the crap, my etsy will be undergoing similar reconstructive procedures again. But don't worry, it's still going to be way more pretty than Joan Rivers. (Oh...she's not pretty, her reconstructions have kind of gone bad, haven't they?) well I guess gettin' pretty will be easy then! Huzzah!

In conclusion, I've always had my voice, but now I'm going to vocalize it. If for no other reason than to make sure Dan doesn't think that I'm really that interested in what Chumlee does when he's allowed to ride a tiny vintage motorbike.