Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Some Enchanted Evening

I've never been one to get all jazzed up by the natural sciences. I have great and brilliant friends that I call upon (Harmless Color for general sciences, and November Seas for my occasional question about hospital life/ med/ etc), when e're I have a science related question. I've rarely been failed by these two, but I'm no mooch, I can do my own research, when that's what's required. But it isn't every day that I think, "Wow! I wonder about planets!" Most of my inquiries are based on practical sciences. But I ran across this totally by accident. It popped up as a recommended vid; I don't know why. And I definately don't know why I clicked on it. I'm profoundly glad I did. This kid is hilarious. "And if you're not careful, you might just learn something." Here's a link to Charlie's YouTube Channel.But for now, enjoy this tidbit:

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Going To the Birds.

Everytime I start writing regularly, I'm reminded of how much I love it. I'll take one single sentance and turn it over and over. As I shape and re-shape a bit of text, I feel like, I imagine, a potter feels. With the amorphus lump of an idea sitting before her, she must apply pressure, create the boundaries, and put the heat on, to transform the lump of though into a reflection or insight worth putting on the mantle.  Despite her best intentions, however, some thoughts never make it off the wheel. And, when she finishes others, she realizes that it's not quite what she's hoped, >>crash<

That wasn't the direction this post was heading. Sorry to all you English teachers out there, this won't transition smoothly.

Speaking of pottery...I got a Twitter account. I hear the groans, and can see your rolled eyes from here. But, here's the thing: I just read this amazing book, 33 Million People In the Room, by Juliette Powell, discussing the value of a good online presence in the future of marketing. That's a bit of a generalization, but a launch point for the curious. Nevertheless reading it offered something of a revelation. If it is at all possible to turn my writing into something more that what I do for fun, and make it, for fun and profit, I'd be staggered with joy and a fool not to...I think . So, I'm offering bite sized pieces of my rapier wit and powers of observation for all the world through the little blue bird @MoTheThird.And while I'm working on expanding my horizion, I'd love your feedback on the blog thus far. What do I do well? What could I do better? What would you like to see me research and/or write about? I'd also love your endorsement. I set a goal of 100+ followers by the end of the year. It's a little lofty, but you've always rewarded me for writing, by reading and commenting. I am, thus, optimistic.
 That being said, if you tweet, send me your info. 
As for mine, take a gander if you're into that sort of thing? 
And if not, that's okay, too.
We'll always have The Gray Area

Monday, August 29, 2011

...if you don't, you'll get all red lights for the rest of your life.

I feel like there has been a significant uptick in, "re-post if you [love, hate, favor, oppose, need, represent, would effin' kill for, want, are made ill by, or are bummed about] traffic in facebook. I'd say, "repost if you're over that sort of silliness," but, that would be sort of silly

Thursday, August 25, 2011

The Cutest Comedian Ever

This may be the coolest joke ever. Or maybe I'm partial to the joke teller. Back in DC, she was seriously my ray of sunshine. Smart, funny, stubborn, cute. She's going to break heart after heart.

Time Out! Xanga?

Does anyone actually use Xanga anymore? What happened to them. Anyway, this is a post I had from back when I had one. I read it and smiled. I hope it makes you smile, too.

Time is a funny thing
Breakfast time... what is that for real? Is it the first few hours than any one person is awake? Is it a set number of hours in the a.m.? I can wake up late because of my job and nothing is the worse for wear my first of three meals occurs at about noon. Many people would insist that makes what I'm eating "lunch" but why? As I stagger bleary-eyed across the carpet toward my kitchen to align reality with the will of my stomach, all I can think is, "breakfast."

Speaking of breakfast; people have these strange adherence patterns to the strangest rules.

"Hey Bill, Jim brought in burritos. They're sittin' on the table if you want some."
"It's like 8:30 in the morning man."
"Oh don't worry, they're breakfast burritos."
"Well, in that case..."
(Why does this make sense?)

"Oh and Sue brought in some breakfast meatballs. And I think Jeff brought in some breakfast wine."
The beauty of nomenclature.

Monday, August 22, 2011

Let's go

In my younger years, through the teens, younger people didn't like me. At least, that was my impression when upon my picking them up, or even looking for too long caused an otherwise peaceful child to burst into hysterics. Fits of tears great enough to result in that pained shortness of breath.

Of late, however, this is not my lot. Thankfully, it has not been so for a few years now. I can (and do) hold children and play with them, as many adults have before me. And I've even been complimented on my "way with children." 

Recently, I've experienced another first...twice. I was visiting a friend and her family over the Easter weekend. A number of us, including my friend's young nieces and nephews, went on a hike to see a waterfall. After a short ride to the trail head, our party disembarked and started that sometimes awkward shuffle, in which a group arranges itself to hike the trail. As we're all deciding who will want to talk about our topics, or who will be diverted by the same sights, and what hiking partner will walk as fast or slow as I. As we processed all that info, the tiniest set of fingers slipped into my hand. The, just more than two year old, niece of my friend decided that she wanted to walk with me. 

At that moment, it felt like my heart expanded to fill my entire chest. Even now, when I think about it, I just want to hug her again. It didn't matter how fast or slow she wanted to walk. She could stop and look at anything she wanted, or nothing at all. We could have walked in total silence, or she could never have stopped talking. In that moment, she held me in the palm of her hand. I felt a little like an escort protecting a work of art. Only this beautiful little girl chose me. Not for any reasons I understand. But I also didn't ask. Sometimes the part you can't explain is the part that makes it beautiful. 

Not long after, my own family was visiting from out of state. We were gathered at my parents' house. My aunt and her family were coming off of a nine hour trip and were a bit frayed. We were helping them get things out of their van, trekking back and forth across the street. My youngest cousin, also just over the two year mark, and I trudged sleepily up to the curb at the same time, and, without a word slipped her oh-so-small hand into my own. 

I tried to keep it together. I didn't want to make  a big deal out of it, we'd only met that morning. But somehow, it's like nothing else matters. It reminds me of a soap bubble, so beautiful, so fragile. Let's go.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

...Where No Spring Roll Has Gone Before.

When one meets a hero from one's earliest childhood, one hopes to be cool.
To say something witty. To be calm, but admiring. And to leave the hero wanting more.

I was standing in ninety degree blazing sun, waiting for the start of a wedding delayed by power outage. When Brannon Braga walked up and extended his hand to me with the most casual and genuinely nice introduction... I had just stuck a whole (slight exaggeration) spring roll in my mouth.

"Hi, I'm Brannon." I take his extended hand, while balancing the plate of hors d'oeuvres in my opposite hand.

"[Stunned, awkward, silent, frantic chewing. Followed by resignation to not completing the chew,]
Ahmooh...[dry swallow]...Morris DuBose. I'm a big fan of your work" I mumble, as I desperately try to swallow.

"Wow. Thanks," was the response.
He said it in the way I imagine one would respond the first or second time a stranger was complimentary of one's work. Not someone who has more than 100 Star TrekTM writing credits, and three films, including Mission: Impossible 2. Yet there he was, mentioning his new show, Terra Nova. Not selling it to me, just chatting about it, like someone genuinely excited about the newness of the project, and looking completely normal. Well, as normal as a tuxedo adorned person can look.

I finally swallow, when he suddenly, apologizes for catching me with my mouth full. Promised we'd talk later. Then excused himself to rejoin the wedding party in their sequestered state.

I'm still not sure how I feel about this hero meeting. For his part, the hero was as engaging and friendly as I could have hoped for any meeting. He even made good his promise to talk later. I on the other hand still have spring roll in my teeth.

Friday, August 12, 2011


Have you ever,
All at once,
Been overwhelmed
With the vastness
Of Life?

Of one though
Leading to
Another. One
Thought explodes

Into twenty thoughts
Like a firework of the mind.

Leaving you enthralled
In the action.
In the overload

And you
To hold one insight
to the thought's fruition.
But, the toil is vain

And as you resign,
Settling back
Into the shadows
Of the firework's
Faded Light

You are grateful
For the fractional glimpse
Into a complex order
Beyond your grasp.

You hope that
the order is good.
And that your life
Is lived
For the good of the order.

That totally happened sitting in Starbucks. This was supposed to be a text message. It just sort of spiraled out of control. I hope you enjoyed it.

Monday, August 8, 2011


I actually wrote this in march in a notebook. I just read it today and thought it wasn't bad.

I want to be in a couple. Most days, I'd like for it to be romantic. But some days it needn't be.

Sitting in a cafe absorbed in a book. I glance up, and out of the window and see a bright red cardinal, standing in stark contrast to the heavily clouded evening's pseudo-light, staring in the window at me. "Come see! Come see!" I wanted to shout to someone...Anyone. But the older man and the younger woman were totally engaged in their coffee. The young man behind me is on life support (read: computer) and the barista is too far away.
The cardinal tires of his perch, and of staring at me, and flutters off to his next engagement. Maybe, home to tell his family about the lonely human from the coffee shop.