It's that time of the month again. Not when Mother Nature pays a visit, but when Peter, Paul, AT&T and the rest come a-knocking. It's the time when I cross my fingers that my expense checks are deposited before the bills are deducted. When I curse myself for forgetting that I wasn't supposed to use my debit card and wind up paying an extra $35 for something that would have only cost $3.50. It's that time when I wonder if I should quit my cushy job and do more work for more money or find supplemental income.
And then the time comes when I say fuck it (excuse my English) and let the worries go. It all works out in the end anyway. I just have to ignore all the pretty red writing that pops up when I look at the online bank statement and wait until everything catches up in a few days. You'd think I'd stop procrastinating and submit my expense reports in a timelier manner, huh?
Monday, August 31, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
You Take the Good You Take the Bad
Today is the prequel to what was supposed to be my big day, one which I've looked forward to and dreaded for over 8 weeks. Tomorrow was my bellydance debut at recital, but I'm not gonna make it.
I came to Vegas for work and deliberately chose a redeye departure that would return me to my orgination well before the dress rehearsal scheduled this afternoon. Well, that flight didn't work out so well. It was cancelled at the last minute and the earliest flight gets me in just as the mandatory recital dress rehearsal begins.
Sigh. I'm sad about missing the recital. I'm glad I didn't ride a plane with mechanical problems. I'm irritated that I wasted some money on a bellydance session and didn't reap the fruits of my labor.
Just as one part of the ordeal upsets me, I think of something small that makes it better, like not having to wait too long in line to have my flight rebooked and hotel assigned. I guess life is all about ups and downs, give and take, this and that. So today I look for to balancing my yin with my yang and not over-focusing on either of them.
I came to Vegas for work and deliberately chose a redeye departure that would return me to my orgination well before the dress rehearsal scheduled this afternoon. Well, that flight didn't work out so well. It was cancelled at the last minute and the earliest flight gets me in just as the mandatory recital dress rehearsal begins.
Sigh. I'm sad about missing the recital. I'm glad I didn't ride a plane with mechanical problems. I'm irritated that I wasted some money on a bellydance session and didn't reap the fruits of my labor.
Just as one part of the ordeal upsets me, I think of something small that makes it better, like not having to wait too long in line to have my flight rebooked and hotel assigned. I guess life is all about ups and downs, give and take, this and that. So today I look for to balancing my yin with my yang and not over-focusing on either of them.
Monday, August 10, 2009
"Basketball Jones" by E. Lynn Harris
Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened. ~"Basketball Jones" by E. Lynn Harris
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Tatted Up
I've been thinking about getting a tattoo for a while, but couldn't quite decide what to get or where to get it. I knew that I was getting one on my trip to Indy because it was on my To-Do list, along with skydiving.
I made an "appointment" Friday with my friend K who was supposed to tell our friend C to hook me up. Well K told C we were hanging out. Luckily C is flexible and was able to do the tat.
I just decided this afternoon to get my horoscope symbol. I'm a pretty textbook Virgo. Yep, I'm critical of myself and others, dependable, loyal, etc.
So, I took a bottle of coconut rum to K’a to mix with his Lemon Strawberry Hawaiian Punch. S met me there and we sat around for an hour looking at tat mags, drinking our libations, talking and listening to music as I bought myself some time.
I was mad nervous. I'd heard mixed messages about the amount of pain to expect. K and C said if I had a baby I could handle a tat. The problem with that is I had a C-section and didn't feel any labor pains...and when I did have pain after the surgery I was too drugged up to care.
Once I sat in the chair in K’s kitchen (yeah, we're hood like that), I spent over 10 minutes asking every question I could think of: What's that? Why do you need that? How long will the tracing stay on in case I bolt? K cracked everybody up saying I sounded like the little boy in the Kobe and LeBron commercials.
After C clarified that even if I said stop he was to keep going, we got started. The pain was very minor for the most part. I think I had scared myself so much that it was a piece of cake. There were moments where I could feel more intense levels of pain, but they were few and far between.
C said he was proud of me. S said I made her want to get one (but she won't). K said I'd get another in 6 months because they're addicting. I reminded K that I'm stubborn and would wait a year just to prove him wrong.
When I got home, I told my mother I had a rash on my neck so she could look. She let out a yelp in surprise and said she never thought I'd get a tattoo. Once she found out that the equipment was sterile and that C was experienced, she was cool.
Son asked, "MiMi, what's that tattoo say?” "What you get that tattoo for?” and the dreaded, "Can I have a tattoo?" I guess he gets his inquisitive nature from his mama.
I have no regrets about getting it. The tat is small and can be covered in a business setting. It's kind of exhilarating and freeing, considering how square I've been for most of my life.
P.S., I'm not going to hell for desecrating my body with a pagan symbol :-D
I made an "appointment" Friday with my friend K who was supposed to tell our friend C to hook me up. Well K told C we were hanging out. Luckily C is flexible and was able to do the tat.
I just decided this afternoon to get my horoscope symbol. I'm a pretty textbook Virgo. Yep, I'm critical of myself and others, dependable, loyal, etc.
So, I took a bottle of coconut rum to K’a to mix with his Lemon Strawberry Hawaiian Punch. S met me there and we sat around for an hour looking at tat mags, drinking our libations, talking and listening to music as I bought myself some time.
I was mad nervous. I'd heard mixed messages about the amount of pain to expect. K and C said if I had a baby I could handle a tat. The problem with that is I had a C-section and didn't feel any labor pains...and when I did have pain after the surgery I was too drugged up to care.
Once I sat in the chair in K’s kitchen (yeah, we're hood like that), I spent over 10 minutes asking every question I could think of: What's that? Why do you need that? How long will the tracing stay on in case I bolt? K cracked everybody up saying I sounded like the little boy in the Kobe and LeBron commercials.
After C clarified that even if I said stop he was to keep going, we got started. The pain was very minor for the most part. I think I had scared myself so much that it was a piece of cake. There were moments where I could feel more intense levels of pain, but they were few and far between.
C said he was proud of me. S said I made her want to get one (but she won't). K said I'd get another in 6 months because they're addicting. I reminded K that I'm stubborn and would wait a year just to prove him wrong.
When I got home, I told my mother I had a rash on my neck so she could look. She let out a yelp in surprise and said she never thought I'd get a tattoo. Once she found out that the equipment was sterile and that C was experienced, she was cool.
Son asked, "MiMi, what's that tattoo say?” "What you get that tattoo for?” and the dreaded, "Can I have a tattoo?" I guess he gets his inquisitive nature from his mama.
I have no regrets about getting it. The tat is small and can be covered in a business setting. It's kind of exhilarating and freeing, considering how square I've been for most of my life.
P.S., I'm not going to hell for desecrating my body with a pagan symbol :-D
Sunday, July 05, 2009
4th of July Lessons
Sometimes, you don't appreciate your parents until you have a child of your own. Spending time with my son this past weekend made me see just how much my mother sacrificed for my brother and me.
As a child, I did not realize the tedium of standing in 2 hour-long lines in the middle of the summer at Great America for a 2-minute rollercoaster ride. I did not comprehend the pain one endures sitting outside in mosquito infested parks to watch fireworks among thousands of other families with hyperactive kids.
Over the weekend, I learned that parents stand on their feet when they don't want to and get bitten by random bugs because seeing joy in their kids' eyes is worth it.
So today, as I scratch insect bites and hope they are not from poisonous spiders, gingerly apply ointment to my sunburned shoulders and try to catch up on some much needed rest, I will not complain. I will focus on memories of my son's pure, unadulterated happiness and rest securely in the fact that I did not stand in his way.
Thanks Mommy for the lessons that you didn't know you were teaching!
As a child, I did not realize the tedium of standing in 2 hour-long lines in the middle of the summer at Great America for a 2-minute rollercoaster ride. I did not comprehend the pain one endures sitting outside in mosquito infested parks to watch fireworks among thousands of other families with hyperactive kids.
Over the weekend, I learned that parents stand on their feet when they don't want to and get bitten by random bugs because seeing joy in their kids' eyes is worth it.
So today, as I scratch insect bites and hope they are not from poisonous spiders, gingerly apply ointment to my sunburned shoulders and try to catch up on some much needed rest, I will not complain. I will focus on memories of my son's pure, unadulterated happiness and rest securely in the fact that I did not stand in his way.
Thanks Mommy for the lessons that you didn't know you were teaching!
Friday, July 03, 2009
Why I Do It
In a heated exchange with a family member, I was once told that I haven't been through anything and my life has been too easy. That short spiel, which was intended to offend and silence me, did just the opposite.
It made me realize that portraying a life of perfection while inwardly fighting struggles and battles was doing a disservice to the world around me. It made me wonder how much my younger niece and cousins were hiding because they did not think I could understand what they were going through or thought that I would judge them for the lives they were leading.
So, at the risk of being called crazy, silly or a Certified Loon (not to be confused with a lunatic), I share my story. This includes the good and the bad, the happy and the sad, the pretty and the ugly. I open myself to ridicule and scrutiny to show the youth in my life that I am not perfect and they don't have to be either.
I don't write for the over 30 crowd, although people of all ages can benefit from openness and honesty. I write for Natalie, Nayira, Jas, Jode, Michayla, Lauren, Tasha, Jessica, Quetta, Trina, and those who are going through, have gone through or will soon go through growing pains. If I can help just one of them, then my exposure is not in vain.
If I, a 32-year-old wife and mother, have body issues, then surely a 20 year old whose body is still undergoing changes may have them as well. If I look in the mirror and can't always see the beautiful face that others compliment, then it is my duty to share that.
I can no longer support the Ms. Goody Two Shoes persona. I have problems, insecurities and shortcomings. I am bitchy and short-tempered when I'm hungry, just wake up and periodically throughout the day. I have done a lot of growing and still have much yet to do. I also have a lot of wonderful attributes. If I don't share all of me, then I do a disservice to the younger generation who looks at me as a role model or otherwise.
It made me realize that portraying a life of perfection while inwardly fighting struggles and battles was doing a disservice to the world around me. It made me wonder how much my younger niece and cousins were hiding because they did not think I could understand what they were going through or thought that I would judge them for the lives they were leading.
So, at the risk of being called crazy, silly or a Certified Loon (not to be confused with a lunatic), I share my story. This includes the good and the bad, the happy and the sad, the pretty and the ugly. I open myself to ridicule and scrutiny to show the youth in my life that I am not perfect and they don't have to be either.
I don't write for the over 30 crowd, although people of all ages can benefit from openness and honesty. I write for Natalie, Nayira, Jas, Jode, Michayla, Lauren, Tasha, Jessica, Quetta, Trina, and those who are going through, have gone through or will soon go through growing pains. If I can help just one of them, then my exposure is not in vain.
If I, a 32-year-old wife and mother, have body issues, then surely a 20 year old whose body is still undergoing changes may have them as well. If I look in the mirror and can't always see the beautiful face that others compliment, then it is my duty to share that.
I can no longer support the Ms. Goody Two Shoes persona. I have problems, insecurities and shortcomings. I am bitchy and short-tempered when I'm hungry, just wake up and periodically throughout the day. I have done a lot of growing and still have much yet to do. I also have a lot of wonderful attributes. If I don't share all of me, then I do a disservice to the younger generation who looks at me as a role model or otherwise.
Thursday, July 02, 2009
All of Me is Created Equal
I have dimples in my cheeks and chin. I inherited them from my father and I love them dearly. I have dimples in other places, too. I inherited them from ice cream. Those I was not feeling so much.
I wonder what made dimples in one place superior to those in other locations. More importantly, why do I frown upon any part of my body when God created me as a faultless specimen?
I have stretch marks, which I cannot attribute to Deuce residing in my belly. So what? My thighs have always, and will always rub together. Who cares? My stomach will always be pudgy, my pinky toes will always have corns, my left eye will always be a little lazy (or is it the right one?), my calves will always be skinny, my elbows will always be dark, the circles under my eyes will never be lightened and my tig ole bitties shall rise to salute the sun nevermore.
That's just my reality. I accept these things and will not consider them flaws. I will acknowledge them for what they are: my perfection as seen through God’s eyes. Who am I to say that the creation formed of God’s divine hands is less than a masterpiece? Who are you?
I wonder what made dimples in one place superior to those in other locations. More importantly, why do I frown upon any part of my body when God created me as a faultless specimen?
I have stretch marks, which I cannot attribute to Deuce residing in my belly. So what? My thighs have always, and will always rub together. Who cares? My stomach will always be pudgy, my pinky toes will always have corns, my left eye will always be a little lazy (or is it the right one?), my calves will always be skinny, my elbows will always be dark, the circles under my eyes will never be lightened and my tig ole bitties shall rise to salute the sun nevermore.
That's just my reality. I accept these things and will not consider them flaws. I will acknowledge them for what they are: my perfection as seen through God’s eyes. Who am I to say that the creation formed of God’s divine hands is less than a masterpiece? Who are you?
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Michael Jackson's Peace
Thirty minutes ago, I began getting texts saying that Michael Jackson had died. Until it was confirmed by a reputable news source, I held on to the hope that it was just a rumor and that he would recover from whatever health problems that had befallen him.
Two minutes ago, his death was confirmed and my tears unexpectedly started to flow. For me, trying to imagine Michael Jackson lying lifeless is as painful as thinking of one of my own family members. I cannot explain why, because I am not a major follower of his, although I am in awe of his talent.
I mean, it's Michael Jackson. 2300 Jackson Street. Man in the Mirror. All the classics that I know and love and jam to. I can't fully wrap my mind around it. I cannot fathom his family's pain and loss. I feel like I know that family from having seen so much of them all my life.
I was uber-excited about going to see him August 10 in London with my “Aunt” S. I even argued this man down about the benefits versus the risks of traveling all the way to London JUST to see him.
Even with the alleged pedophilia, I still admired Michael Jackson's works of art. I never judged his idiosyncrasies or called him names because a jury deemed him not guilty. So at this surreal moment, I am heart-broken by Michael Jackson's passing. I am sad for his family and his millions of fans, especially the 750,000 ticket holders who anticipated his awesome concert. I am sad for my son and all the other children who will never fully understand Michael Jackson's greatness. I wish his soul peace and rest.
Two minutes ago, his death was confirmed and my tears unexpectedly started to flow. For me, trying to imagine Michael Jackson lying lifeless is as painful as thinking of one of my own family members. I cannot explain why, because I am not a major follower of his, although I am in awe of his talent.
I mean, it's Michael Jackson. 2300 Jackson Street. Man in the Mirror. All the classics that I know and love and jam to. I can't fully wrap my mind around it. I cannot fathom his family's pain and loss. I feel like I know that family from having seen so much of them all my life.
I was uber-excited about going to see him August 10 in London with my “Aunt” S. I even argued this man down about the benefits versus the risks of traveling all the way to London JUST to see him.
Even with the alleged pedophilia, I still admired Michael Jackson's works of art. I never judged his idiosyncrasies or called him names because a jury deemed him not guilty. So at this surreal moment, I am heart-broken by Michael Jackson's passing. I am sad for his family and his millions of fans, especially the 750,000 ticket holders who anticipated his awesome concert. I am sad for my son and all the other children who will never fully understand Michael Jackson's greatness. I wish his soul peace and rest.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Tangentially Speaking
"Tangentially Speaking" has been a phrase in my repertoire since at least 1999. It came about when I realized that I don't always stick to the topic at hand, especially in one-on-one conversations with myself (I admittedly talk to myself--even when there are others to talk to).
Tangential means "almost irrelevant, with only slight relevance to the current subject". Anyone who's held a conversation with me, in person or online, can attest that I do not strictly adhere to the original topic.
I think AND speak outside the box as my tangential mind takes twists and turns and navigates me through this little world of mine. I like to think that this is my way of broadening the minds of those around me. It may or may not be true.
Tangential means "almost irrelevant, with only slight relevance to the current subject". Anyone who's held a conversation with me, in person or online, can attest that I do not strictly adhere to the original topic.
I think AND speak outside the box as my tangential mind takes twists and turns and navigates me through this little world of mine. I like to think that this is my way of broadening the minds of those around me. It may or may not be true.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Today is Father's Day, a day where "real" father's are applauded and where all other sperm-donating men are ridiculed and ostracized. I used to be one of the people who attached qualifications to my Father's Day greeting, being sure to always acknowledge fathers who take care of their kids and mothers who play the role of mother and father. Today, however, I woke up feeling a little differently.
I began to think about fathers who would like to play a more active role in their kids' lives, but because they are not financially able to provide for their kids according to the mothers' expectations, they are denied any fatherly privileges. I also thought about the men who would be fathers, had their rights to fatherhood not been flushed away during an unsupported decision by the mother to have an abortion. Then, there are fathers who are physically imprisoned for crimes they may not have committed and are not allowed to see their children because the mother does not take them for visits. Finally, my mind conjured up visions of young men who impregnated young girls and are not allowed into the babies' lives because the boys' mothers think the fast ass girl was sleeping around and her precious son could not possibly have been dumb enough to get that bitch pregnant.
Fatherhood is a complex entity that many people are not willing or able to conceptualize. I have seen each of the above-mentioned type of father. I've heard stories of fathers who long to do more, but the mother makes it quite impossible for them to do so. I am not making excuses for anyone, but it would be nice if we could see the role women may play in why their fathers or their kids’ fathers are not in their lives.
So, to all sperm donors, I wish you a Happy Father's Day. If you are able to do more for your child, then I urge you to do so. Dealing with women can be a monumental task, but remember it is the child with whom you should concern yourself, not the mother. You will pay the consequences of your actions, good or bad, so make good decisions.
I began to think about fathers who would like to play a more active role in their kids' lives, but because they are not financially able to provide for their kids according to the mothers' expectations, they are denied any fatherly privileges. I also thought about the men who would be fathers, had their rights to fatherhood not been flushed away during an unsupported decision by the mother to have an abortion. Then, there are fathers who are physically imprisoned for crimes they may not have committed and are not allowed to see their children because the mother does not take them for visits. Finally, my mind conjured up visions of young men who impregnated young girls and are not allowed into the babies' lives because the boys' mothers think the fast ass girl was sleeping around and her precious son could not possibly have been dumb enough to get that bitch pregnant.
Fatherhood is a complex entity that many people are not willing or able to conceptualize. I have seen each of the above-mentioned type of father. I've heard stories of fathers who long to do more, but the mother makes it quite impossible for them to do so. I am not making excuses for anyone, but it would be nice if we could see the role women may play in why their fathers or their kids’ fathers are not in their lives.
So, to all sperm donors, I wish you a Happy Father's Day. If you are able to do more for your child, then I urge you to do so. Dealing with women can be a monumental task, but remember it is the child with whom you should concern yourself, not the mother. You will pay the consequences of your actions, good or bad, so make good decisions.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
I Asked For It
I recently went to an amusement park to evaluate customer service. I told myself I'd give one rollercoaster a try. After surviving that one, I figured I could handle a couple more and I ventured on two additional rides. Getting out of my comfort zone and doing something I was afraid of doing was exhilarating.
The next day, I flew to Boston for work. As I was deplaning, I asked myself what I could do to further discomfort myself during my trip. After arriving at the hotel, I was informed that my room would not be ready for an hour.
I decided to walk around, rather than sit in the lobby on the computer as I would normally. While walking, I saw a group of people traveling in one direction and chose to follow the crowd, even though I was often warned against doing so. The throng of people was headed toward a Pride Parade, often referred to as a Rainbow Parade.
Normally, I would not associate myself with anyone or anything that would allow people to make judgments about me, but I said, "What the hell," and stayed to view the parade. It was quite interesting, though I was not completely comfortable being there. Again, I was proud to do something unexpected. That excursion further solidified the fact that it is time for me to live my life for me and not in fear of others' expectations or desires, just like the bold people in the parade were doing.
Fast forward to today. This morning, R informed me that "Who Wants to be a Millionaire" was having auditions in Charlotte and told me I should go. I immediately said that I was not going. Then, after a moment of introspection and realizing that I didn't want to go because 1) I didn't think I was smart enough for the show and 2) I didn't want to be embarrassed if I did poorly on the show, I again said, "What the hell," and got dressed to go to the audition.
Although I did not make the cut, I am happy that I again tackled my insecurities head on and went against the grain of my normal self. Now, I'm not sure how long Daredevil Dalia will be present, but for as long as she is, my life will be fuller and more joyful.
I hope you enjoy the current me as much as I am! I asked to outgrow my comfort zone and I am doing things to push me out of the 32-year-old cocoon, which has begun to suffocate me.
The next day, I flew to Boston for work. As I was deplaning, I asked myself what I could do to further discomfort myself during my trip. After arriving at the hotel, I was informed that my room would not be ready for an hour.
I decided to walk around, rather than sit in the lobby on the computer as I would normally. While walking, I saw a group of people traveling in one direction and chose to follow the crowd, even though I was often warned against doing so. The throng of people was headed toward a Pride Parade, often referred to as a Rainbow Parade.
Normally, I would not associate myself with anyone or anything that would allow people to make judgments about me, but I said, "What the hell," and stayed to view the parade. It was quite interesting, though I was not completely comfortable being there. Again, I was proud to do something unexpected. That excursion further solidified the fact that it is time for me to live my life for me and not in fear of others' expectations or desires, just like the bold people in the parade were doing.
Fast forward to today. This morning, R informed me that "Who Wants to be a Millionaire" was having auditions in Charlotte and told me I should go. I immediately said that I was not going. Then, after a moment of introspection and realizing that I didn't want to go because 1) I didn't think I was smart enough for the show and 2) I didn't want to be embarrassed if I did poorly on the show, I again said, "What the hell," and got dressed to go to the audition.
Although I did not make the cut, I am happy that I again tackled my insecurities head on and went against the grain of my normal self. Now, I'm not sure how long Daredevil Dalia will be present, but for as long as she is, my life will be fuller and more joyful.
I hope you enjoy the current me as much as I am! I asked to outgrow my comfort zone and I am doing things to push me out of the 32-year-old cocoon, which has begun to suffocate me.
I Want to Be a Milliionaire
I went to the Who Wants to Be a Millionaire audition held in Charlotte on June 15th. My husband informed me earlier that morning that the show was having auditions and told me I should go. I immediately said that I was not going. Then, after a moment of introspection and realizing that I didn't want to go because 1) I didn't think I was smart enough for the show and 2) I didn't want to be embarrassed if I did poorly on the show, I decided to give it a shot.
I didn't make it past the first portion of the audition, but it was an enjoyable experience. I arrived around 9 am and was the 28th person in the 3rd group of people. The other 2 groups had either gone or were in still in the auditorium taking their test.
I talked to a couple people in line and learned that we would take 2 multiple-choice tests. One would be general trivia and the second would be based on movie trivia, possible since the show is sponsored by Netflix.
While waiting, a cameraman for CBS-WBTV asked if he could interview me. I accepted and was asked if I watch the show (I don't), if I study trivia with family or friends (nope, just watch TV and read) and why I want to be on the show (to win enough money to pay off my student loans). I haven't been on TV since 1995 or 96 when I was in the audient on the Jenny Jones Show and lied and said I met my boyfriend on the internet.
Once our group entered the auditorium an hour later, we were explained the rules and handed the first set of test materials. This general trivia test was a trip. There were questions like, "In urban language, a hoopty refers to what vehicle?" "Who made the single, "Touch My Body" that broke Elvis' record for #1?" and "Chitlins refers to the intestines of which animal?" I aced those three questions, but don't think I knew the type of fish that was on the 2000 commemorative quarter. I apparently did not know much of the movie trivia, either.
During the time between the two tests, we were allowed the chance to win shirts. I raised my hand and said I'd play Truth or Dare for a shirt and that I would take Truth. The moderator said she couldn't think of a question she could ask, so I said, "Ask me if I want a shirt," and she did!!! Yay me, I got a shirt out of the deal, along with a pencil, a fan and a magnet...all of that for the lowly price of $5 for parking and however much I spent in gas to get there.
So, if I had passed the two quizzes, I would have filled out an application, had my picture taken and returned to a one-on-one interview. Those who make it through the interview will then be sent a postcard in about two weeks notifying them if they will be put into a contestant pool with others who made it through the process as far back as 2007.
If chosen from the contestant pool, the person will be selected to be on one of 11 primetime shows being hosted by Regis Philbin or in the syndicated shows hosted by Meredith Vieira. If chosen for Regis, SOME of the contestant’s travel and lodging fees are covered. The contestant pays for ALL travel and hotel charges if chosen to be on Meredith's show. The winner receives his/her money 30 days after the show airs.
Since I didn't jump high enough to make it through the hoops, I'll just have to make my riches the old fashioned way...through hard work and dedication. That is unless I win the Power Ball or Mega Millions!
http://www.wbtv.com/global/category.asp?c=151146&clipId=3867361&topVideoCatNo=default&topVideoCatNoB=168978&topVideoCatNoC=135991&topVideoCatNoD=139409&topVideoCatNoE=139408&autoStart=true
I didn't make it past the first portion of the audition, but it was an enjoyable experience. I arrived around 9 am and was the 28th person in the 3rd group of people. The other 2 groups had either gone or were in still in the auditorium taking their test.
I talked to a couple people in line and learned that we would take 2 multiple-choice tests. One would be general trivia and the second would be based on movie trivia, possible since the show is sponsored by Netflix.
While waiting, a cameraman for CBS-WBTV asked if he could interview me. I accepted and was asked if I watch the show (I don't), if I study trivia with family or friends (nope, just watch TV and read) and why I want to be on the show (to win enough money to pay off my student loans). I haven't been on TV since 1995 or 96 when I was in the audient on the Jenny Jones Show and lied and said I met my boyfriend on the internet.
Once our group entered the auditorium an hour later, we were explained the rules and handed the first set of test materials. This general trivia test was a trip. There were questions like, "In urban language, a hoopty refers to what vehicle?" "Who made the single, "Touch My Body" that broke Elvis' record for #1?" and "Chitlins refers to the intestines of which animal?" I aced those three questions, but don't think I knew the type of fish that was on the 2000 commemorative quarter. I apparently did not know much of the movie trivia, either.
During the time between the two tests, we were allowed the chance to win shirts. I raised my hand and said I'd play Truth or Dare for a shirt and that I would take Truth. The moderator said she couldn't think of a question she could ask, so I said, "Ask me if I want a shirt," and she did!!! Yay me, I got a shirt out of the deal, along with a pencil, a fan and a magnet...all of that for the lowly price of $5 for parking and however much I spent in gas to get there.
So, if I had passed the two quizzes, I would have filled out an application, had my picture taken and returned to a one-on-one interview. Those who make it through the interview will then be sent a postcard in about two weeks notifying them if they will be put into a contestant pool with others who made it through the process as far back as 2007.
If chosen from the contestant pool, the person will be selected to be on one of 11 primetime shows being hosted by Regis Philbin or in the syndicated shows hosted by Meredith Vieira. If chosen for Regis, SOME of the contestant’s travel and lodging fees are covered. The contestant pays for ALL travel and hotel charges if chosen to be on Meredith's show. The winner receives his/her money 30 days after the show airs.
Since I didn't jump high enough to make it through the hoops, I'll just have to make my riches the old fashioned way...through hard work and dedication. That is unless I win the Power Ball or Mega Millions!
http://www.wbtv.com/global/category.asp?c=151146&clipId=3867361&topVideoCatNo=default&topVideoCatNoB=168978&topVideoCatNoC=135991&topVideoCatNoD=139409&topVideoCatNoE=139408&autoStart=true
Friday, March 20, 2009
Ain't No Feeling Like Being Free
April 4, 2008
I was asleep, but not really. I was thinking about happiness and it seemed elusive. During this non-dream dream, I was shown situations and was able to clearly see how my choices determined the outcome and the resulting happiness. Of course, like in many dreams, I can’t quite remember what the examples were.
I just remember that happiness depends on how I choose to interpret situations...I can see the good or the bad, but whatever I see kind of dictates my reaction and subsequent happiness. Also, happiness is experienced moment by moment. I won’t ever experience happiness as long as I’m communing with my thoughts instead of living life.
Whatever the exact dream-like experience was, I felt good deep down in my bones that I was able to see myself seeing myself make good choices. This may not make much sense, but read "A New Earth" by Eckhart Tolle or "Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert and it may be a little clearer.
Anyway, after really awakening from the non-dream dream, a song came into my head. I could only remember the chorus, not the lyrics or the artist. So, I lay there for what seems like an hour singing, "It ain’t no feeling like being free. When my mind’s made up and my heart is in the right place."
In all actuality, only about 10 minutes had passed. Still, the song kept running a course through the racetrack of my mind. "It ain’t no feeling like being free." And finally, I felt fine being me.
Not the me that people see or the fake me that I show to the world. The me with old, unresolved issues. The me with a thorn in my side that just at this moment stopped hurting. The me who at this moment is bold and unashamed. The me who recognizes that the me I am right now is not the me who will be around in 5 minutes or 5 days from now.
The me who knows that I AM. I am more than R’s wife. More than Son’s mother. I am more than a world-traveling public speaker or ice cream lover or any other worldly title that I or others have labeled me.
Just like any moment of true joy, this may pass. When Son is getting into something and R unintentionally grates my nerves, I just hope I that I remember that I can transcend again and find this part of myself that is fully self-accepting and unfazed by external factors.
"It ain’t no feeling like being free. When my mind’s made up and my heart is in the right place!" I found the song on the internet (gotta love the net). It’s Destiny’s Child from their final album, Destiny Fulfilled. (Maybe the title of this album means something in this whole episode of mine and maybe not.)
Anyway, after listening to the song, it’s about getting out of a relationship with a man. That’s not what it means for me (at least at this moment that I know of), so don’t jump to conclusions when you hear it on my profile (MySpace).
Ain’t no feeling like being free
When your mind’s made up
And your hearts in the right place, yeah
Ain’t no feeling like being free
When you’ve done all you could
But was misunderstood
(It’s all good, it’s all good)
Ain’t no feeling like being free
I’m like an eagle set free
And finally I’m looking out for me
Ain’t no feeling like being free
Cause my mind’s made up
And my heart is in the right place, yeah
I was asleep, but not really. I was thinking about happiness and it seemed elusive. During this non-dream dream, I was shown situations and was able to clearly see how my choices determined the outcome and the resulting happiness. Of course, like in many dreams, I can’t quite remember what the examples were.
I just remember that happiness depends on how I choose to interpret situations...I can see the good or the bad, but whatever I see kind of dictates my reaction and subsequent happiness. Also, happiness is experienced moment by moment. I won’t ever experience happiness as long as I’m communing with my thoughts instead of living life.
Whatever the exact dream-like experience was, I felt good deep down in my bones that I was able to see myself seeing myself make good choices. This may not make much sense, but read "A New Earth" by Eckhart Tolle or "Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert and it may be a little clearer.
Anyway, after really awakening from the non-dream dream, a song came into my head. I could only remember the chorus, not the lyrics or the artist. So, I lay there for what seems like an hour singing, "It ain’t no feeling like being free. When my mind’s made up and my heart is in the right place."
In all actuality, only about 10 minutes had passed. Still, the song kept running a course through the racetrack of my mind. "It ain’t no feeling like being free." And finally, I felt fine being me.
Not the me that people see or the fake me that I show to the world. The me with old, unresolved issues. The me with a thorn in my side that just at this moment stopped hurting. The me who at this moment is bold and unashamed. The me who recognizes that the me I am right now is not the me who will be around in 5 minutes or 5 days from now.
The me who knows that I AM. I am more than R’s wife. More than Son’s mother. I am more than a world-traveling public speaker or ice cream lover or any other worldly title that I or others have labeled me.
Just like any moment of true joy, this may pass. When Son is getting into something and R unintentionally grates my nerves, I just hope I that I remember that I can transcend again and find this part of myself that is fully self-accepting and unfazed by external factors.
"It ain’t no feeling like being free. When my mind’s made up and my heart is in the right place!" I found the song on the internet (gotta love the net). It’s Destiny’s Child from their final album, Destiny Fulfilled. (Maybe the title of this album means something in this whole episode of mine and maybe not.)
Anyway, after listening to the song, it’s about getting out of a relationship with a man. That’s not what it means for me (at least at this moment that I know of), so don’t jump to conclusions when you hear it on my profile (MySpace).
Ain’t no feeling like being free
When your mind’s made up
And your hearts in the right place, yeah
Ain’t no feeling like being free
When you’ve done all you could
But was misunderstood
(It’s all good, it’s all good)
Ain’t no feeling like being free
I’m like an eagle set free
And finally I’m looking out for me
Ain’t no feeling like being free
Cause my mind’s made up
And my heart is in the right place, yeah
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Secrets of a Mystery Shopper
Mystery Shopping is a legitimate source of income. You get paid to eat, bowl, shop and do other fun things and write a report about your observations. The purpose of Mystery Shopping is to inform companies about the service you were provided and at times offer suggestions for improvement.
I have been a Mystery Shopper since 2002. I actively work for about 5 companies, but am signed up for at least 15. It did not cost me anything to become a shopper, however I did invest $25 to get a certification. I'm not sure if this gets me more jobs or not, but it was a small expense which can be written off on taxes.
So far this year, I have made $50 from one company alone for eating at McDonald's. Eating is the fun part, but sometimes the reports are a bit tedious. Overall, the experience has been good.
Be aware that there are some companies which solicit you and ask you to send in money to become a Shopper. DO NOT pay any fees to sign up for companies!!!
The items you generally need to own are a digital camera, stopwatch, scanner and/or fax machine. All of these items are tax write-offs since you're using them as an independent contractor. Your mileage and certification fee are also tax deductible.
Some of the sites that I use are listed below. You will receive e-mails letting you know the jobs in your area. Sign up for all of them for more chances to get selected to perform a shop. Don't get discouraged if you aren't selected for shops immediately. More experience Shoppers are generally chosen first.
http://www.cybershopperonline.com/
http://www.acpview.com/
http://www.ritterassociates.com/
http://www.msishopper.net/
http://www.secretshopper.com/
http://www.shopnchekshopper.com/
http://www.sassieshop.com/2kern/
http://www.mysteryshops.com/
http://www.sassieshop.com/2nis/
http://www.sassieshop.com/2servicesleuths
http://www.sassieshop.com/2mystique/
https://www.shopnchekshopper.com/
http://www.secretshopper.com/
http://www.sassieshop.com/2confero/
http://www.secretshopnet.com/
http://www.sassieshop.com/2bareintl/
I have been a Mystery Shopper since 2002. I actively work for about 5 companies, but am signed up for at least 15. It did not cost me anything to become a shopper, however I did invest $25 to get a certification. I'm not sure if this gets me more jobs or not, but it was a small expense which can be written off on taxes.
So far this year, I have made $50 from one company alone for eating at McDonald's. Eating is the fun part, but sometimes the reports are a bit tedious. Overall, the experience has been good.
Be aware that there are some companies which solicit you and ask you to send in money to become a Shopper. DO NOT pay any fees to sign up for companies!!!
The items you generally need to own are a digital camera, stopwatch, scanner and/or fax machine. All of these items are tax write-offs since you're using them as an independent contractor. Your mileage and certification fee are also tax deductible.
Some of the sites that I use are listed below. You will receive e-mails letting you know the jobs in your area. Sign up for all of them for more chances to get selected to perform a shop. Don't get discouraged if you aren't selected for shops immediately. More experience Shoppers are generally chosen first.
http://www.cybershopperonline.com/
http://www.acpview.com/
http://www.ritterassociates.com/
http://www.msishopper.net/
http://www.secretshopper.com/
http://www.shopnchekshopper.com/
http://www.sassieshop.com/2kern/
http://www.mysteryshops.com/
http://www.sassieshop.com/2nis/
http://www.sassieshop.com/2servicesleuths
http://www.sassieshop.com/2mystique/
https://www.shopnchekshopper.com/
http://www.secretshopper.com/
http://www.sassieshop.com/2confero/
http://www.secretshopnet.com/
http://www.sassieshop.com/2bareintl/
Thursday, March 05, 2009
Farewell Cayenne
On November 9, 1998 I bought my first car. It was a Cayenne Red Chevy Cavalier which I affectionately called Cayenne and Cavy.
I wanted a car, so bad...any car would do. I had a dream about a red car and after looking at several types, I chose Cayenne.
I didn't care much what the car offered. I only wanted a CD player and air conditioning. I found out years later that I was short-sighted and should have also opted for power locks and windows.
Cavy has been with me on road trips between Indianapolis and East Chicago, Chicago, Atlanta, Nashville and anywhere else I had a whim to go. Now, 150,000 miles later, she and I just separated.
Cayenne now has a new Mommy and best friend, A and her daughter S. She'll be housed around the corner from me, so I'll still be able to visit her. However, in 2 weeks I'm moving to Charlotte and our separation will be more permanent.
Everyone keeps asking me if I'm sad. I ask in return, "Do you want me to be?" and "Should I be?" I'm not sad per se. I'm happy that A and S have transportation all their own, but it's bittersweet knowing that this was my first car and the only brand spanking new car I've owned to date (started with 16 miles).
Cayenne has been with me through break-ups and make-ups, promotions, good times and bad. She's been more dependable and faithful to me than many men and friends have been.
Thank you for swerving back into the lane when I've drifted off to sleep and rolled over the bumpy part of the highway. I am grateful to you for never dying on me and being a low-maintenance car. I appreciate that you were not condescending when I beat your steering wheel in frustration, whether at an idiot on the road or an idiot in my life.
Adieu Cayenne, adieu. I wish you well in your new role and hope you will remain the happy, trust-worthy car you've always been.
I wanted a car, so bad...any car would do. I had a dream about a red car and after looking at several types, I chose Cayenne.
I didn't care much what the car offered. I only wanted a CD player and air conditioning. I found out years later that I was short-sighted and should have also opted for power locks and windows.
Cavy has been with me on road trips between Indianapolis and East Chicago, Chicago, Atlanta, Nashville and anywhere else I had a whim to go. Now, 150,000 miles later, she and I just separated.
Cayenne now has a new Mommy and best friend, A and her daughter S. She'll be housed around the corner from me, so I'll still be able to visit her. However, in 2 weeks I'm moving to Charlotte and our separation will be more permanent.
Everyone keeps asking me if I'm sad. I ask in return, "Do you want me to be?" and "Should I be?" I'm not sad per se. I'm happy that A and S have transportation all their own, but it's bittersweet knowing that this was my first car and the only brand spanking new car I've owned to date (started with 16 miles).
Cayenne has been with me through break-ups and make-ups, promotions, good times and bad. She's been more dependable and faithful to me than many men and friends have been.
Thank you for swerving back into the lane when I've drifted off to sleep and rolled over the bumpy part of the highway. I am grateful to you for never dying on me and being a low-maintenance car. I appreciate that you were not condescending when I beat your steering wheel in frustration, whether at an idiot on the road or an idiot in my life.
Adieu Cayenne, adieu. I wish you well in your new role and hope you will remain the happy, trust-worthy car you've always been.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
An Introduction to the Queen
I am Queen Dalia. My name did not originate from a feeling of superiority over anyone. Its origin is simple: when my maiden name was alphabetized, it was listed "King, Dalia." I am clearly all woman, so my Sorority Sister C began calling me "Queen Dalia" in 1996 when I became an AKA. Since this time, Queen Dalia has remained my moniker.
This first blog introduced you to the meaning behind my name. My goal with future blogs is to delve deeper into me as a person. I hope to remain honest, transparent and fearful as I share myself in my writings.
My blog is titled "Tangentially Speaking" because I have been known to jump from topic to topic in the midst of a conversation or even a sentence. I came up with this title in 2001 when I was playing with names for a potential book...one that still has yet to be written.
This first blog introduced you to the meaning behind my name. My goal with future blogs is to delve deeper into me as a person. I hope to remain honest, transparent and fearful as I share myself in my writings.
My blog is titled "Tangentially Speaking" because I have been known to jump from topic to topic in the midst of a conversation or even a sentence. I came up with this title in 2001 when I was playing with names for a potential book...one that still has yet to be written.
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