Archive | May, 2008

Chicklets are Good, Yes? They Give You Fresh Breath!

29 May

The afore-mentioned title has nothing to do, really, with today’s diatribe, but I couldn’t resist. Chicklet rhymes with chick lit, which is today’s topic of discussion. What is chick lit? It’s a genre someone came up with to describe novels written by women, where the women seem to share various similiar characteristics. Some long-running chicky themes: the women are usually fabulous and fashionista (or have aspirations to be as such); early to mid-30’s; in search of love and job acceptance/contentedness; and usually end up in some sort of Lucy Ricardo type of hilarity with a sidekick in tow. Of course, Bridget Jones was in a class all of her own, I would say, but still. For the most part, at the risk of generalizing, that’s chick lit. Nevertheless, let’s provide a few established definitions. See the following:

“Chick lit” is a term used to denote genre fiction written for and marketed to young women, especially single, working women in their twenties and thirties.”

“Chick lit features hip, stylish female protagonists, usually in their twenties and thirties, in urban settings (usually London or Manhattan), and follows their love lives and struggles for professional success (often in the publishing, advertising, public relations or fashion industry). The books usually feature an airy, irreverent tone…”

Anyway, if I ever become a published writer (please, please), I just…I don’t want to be pigeonholed! Don’t call me a chick lit author, or a this author, or a that author. If my book features a female protagonist, which it likely will, and she happens to be in her 30s (which I am, so life imitating art, imagine that), and so on and so forth, just let it be fiction. Let it be a novel and a story and leave it at that. Somebody?

I don’t know – something about that term puts me off. It makes me think of silly girls with lots of money and problems that aren’t really problems. I’m generalizing, yes (and there are plenty of talented female novelists who surpass the above-mentioned definitions in their books), but that’s how it makes me feel. And that’s the 2 cents.

Oh, Archie.

28 May

Well, Archuleta came in second place in the contest. And that’s all right. Because he’ll put out a compact disc and I’ll pluck down the money for it. He’s the best. And I care not for all the words against him, either. Sticks and stones.

I wrote a new poem, which may inspire a new short story. Rather than express any kind of excitement, we’ll see if it happens.

It’s cloudy…and I’m, um, ok with it.

I haven’t had a diet soda in 2 weeks! I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. But I do miss you, Diet Mountain Dew.

Thoughts may be coming like this: weird and choppy and pithy. What can I say? I’m trying to be the poor man’s Dorothy Parker.

Poppy Cultcha

21 May

I hate to go there. This JournaBlog is mostly comprised of my thoughts and ruminations about life and things and events. Once in a while, I may riff on Lohan or Ledger or music or whatever, but I think I can rightfully say that I keeps it real. So, what I’m about to say is totally pop culture-y and biased. Nevertheless.


Never have I been more eager for someone to win a contest, despite the mounting evidence that it doesn’t matter who wins (Ruben Studdard, Taylor Hicks, Chris Daughtry). Never have I believed in a voice so beautiful, really, despite the fact that most believe that he’s totally faking that wide-eyed earnestness and innocence. (And, for the record, I don’t think he’s faking). Never have I been more determined to purchase a CD by an American Idol to be, or an American Idol runner-up. Either way, I will purchase anything with Archuleta’s voice on it. I’m serious. I just think he’s terrific. So, again.


In other news, some “starlet” was on the Today show this morning decrying how the media painted her during her very public divorce with another “actor.” Whatever. She completely influenced the image painted of her. Although I’m a big believer in mass media manipulation, some of these “stars” can’t blame anyone but themselves. Descending the soap box…now.

No, one more thing: apparently, a barista at Starbucks has incurred the wrath of the Olsen twins – according to what was reported on the radio this morning, she had been putting whole milk into their ‘cinos, in order to put some meat on the “twigs,” as she called them. Hilarious! Go, Barista. It just doesn’t make sense that they appear to weigh the same now as they did on Full House. All kudos to the barista for adding the whole milk. I wish she would have ground up a few biscottis and thrown it into their lattes for good measure.

All right. Whew. Enough with the poppy stuff. Just had to get it out of the old system.


It’s Showtime…

20 May

I would love to see a play or show right about now. I think the last time I saw good, live theatre (of course, I’m not counting a local high school’s production of “You Can’t take it With You,” which was, uh, horrible) was about 4 years ago, when, kind of on a whim, I drove down to Signature Theater and saw a mahvelous musical called “110 in the Shade.” It was awesome, I had a good seat, it was terrific. I’d like to do that again. There’s just something about theatre. I’m a nerd, but I loves it.

It’s yet another rainy day. I’ve gotten to a point where–rather than standing in the street and shaking my fist at the cloudy sky–I’ve accepted that there will be rainy days. It can’t be sunny all the time. Flowers need to grow. Grass needs to grow. (Never mind that we’ve surpassed every record in the book, as far as rain is concerned, and that this corner of the earth is practically drowning). I’ve made peace. (Two weeks from now? When I’m shaking my fist at the cloudy sky? The above-mentioned words will mean absolutely nothing).

We had an audience during my workout class last night. It was a little surreal and wierd. Out of nowhere, a whole group of bystanders were standing by the OPEN doors (I don’t get why people nearby just don’t close them), watching us sweat and jump around like lunatics. One woman was smiling and clapping along, like we were putting on a show. Another guy seemed to be studying the moves–either that or there was a camera somewhere and we’re all minutes away from seeing ourselves on YouTube. It was insane.

As I’m prone to say, onwards and upwards.

Right on, Horace.

15 May

I have one of those calendars at work that has daily sayings. Some are interesting; most are forgettable. Today’s quote is a little on the beautiful and thoroughly true side, especially for an art and photograph lover, such as myself:

A picture is a poem without words.

Lovely, lovely. As someone who’s usually rendered motionless and emotional by assorted artwork and other images, I second the quote. Nothing like a visual poem to stir the senses. The photograph above reminds me of melancholy, rainy mornings and James Taylor. I think it’s breathtaking.

The Long & Winding Road

15 May

It’s been a long and winding road back to my little JournaBlog. The journey back here was filled with many interruptions along the way, like work and busy schedules and, uh, forgetting that there was even a JournaBlog to update. Nevertheless, back to this reality.

Nothing new around here. I’ve been running around like a little bee, buzzing about my cubicle and the streets of Somewheres, VA, and generally all over the place. I’d like to say that I’ve accomplished many significant things while in buzzing mode, like taking my formerly-white-now-beige vehicle to the car wash, or visiting Target/Bed, Bath & Beyond for different accessories to spice up the still clean (yay!!) room, but, alas, I can’t make those claims. Just working and doing the far more important things in life. Perhaps one of these weekends–when it’s not monsooning, which it has been lately during this oh so beautiful springtime(not)–I’ll take some time to visit the car wash and those other stores. Of course, such places require money for currency, not promises to pay or Monopoly cash, so I better make my visits when the wallet is ready. So, never.

Speaking of the old room, I’ve really been into the thought of decorating. This is a milestone. Because there are people like me, Girleys like me, who possess no interest whatsoever in decorating and design and the HGTV. Seriously. I mean, I love to watch Nate Berkus do his thing, but I’ve never had the desire to do all of that myself. But, of late, I’ve been gazing off into the distance, wondering how a Girley would transform her bedroom into a Parisian apartment from the 1940s on a budget of $10.00. Which means that I’m either growing up or that I’ve fallen and hit my head.



Sincerely, Taj

Dear World, I have stuff to say, so get cozy. Here, I've got cupcakes.

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