Data Mining At Its Finest

Who needs companies to sell your personal information to corporations? Put it in the form of a social networking site and we’ll fall all over ourselves to throw them the information.

List your favorite books, movies, music. Then check out the ads.

Not only do we froth at the mouth to give them information to market to us, but we tell them how to better do it. I realize that as consumers, we do this on a daily basis by voting with our US American Money Dollars for what is popular, or remains so by buying or not. You’re telling them, “Yes! We absolutely agree that what you told us to buy is something we need. That Nike “swoosh” symbol is so very worth ____ many more hours I spent at work than those other shoes*. Because I love being at work so much, anyway. Have some more of my money, please! No, I insist!

*I admit, there are some examples where you pay for what you get. But to pay extra for something with some dumb graphic design on it, just because it has a certain graphic design on it, and many other people also have said design on some article of clothing or product somewhere on or near their person. Why is that? A sense of belonging? “Oh, hey! You also have this squiggly mark on something belonging to you! We are not so different, you and I. My life is less meaningless, and I feel like I have a place in the universe on this dumb spinning rock. Life is grand! Thank you, squiggly mark!”

Please do not misinterpret my attempt at witty sarcasm with bitterness.

I mentioned Sinatra in a status message, and now I am barraged by ads for his compilation cds. Also bands I’ve listed on my info page, writers that I have listed that I like. All of the surveys/quizzes/what have you tell you “access will let it pull your profile information, photos, your friends’ info, and other content that it requires to work” and have you accept. WARNING: We are trying to sell you things. We will know what you like, what your friends like, and how often you like it. Give us your damn money.

I am exaggerating.

A little.

It doesn’t really bother me all that much. Hell, if there are companies out there that can cater to my specific flavor of weirdness, by all means make it easier for me to find them, or for them to find me. Divine marketing; it was meant to be. We met through a friend, this messenger bag and I. I saw this shirt from across a crowded website, and as soon as I saw it, I knew.

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Pavlov’s Dating Pool or Call Me Miss Anthropy

Priorities being what they are, you should absolutely take care of yourself, your family, friends first, but not to the point of full-on, charge-through, forget who I hurt kind of a way.

I find it maddening that most people are more concerned with “get drunk and have sex” than learning about themselves or anyone else. Deep down in my core I get aggravated with myself, because I think, “None of my business; if that’s what they want to do, if that’s what makes the majority of the populace happy, then it’s not hurting me any, whatever.” But it still bugs me.

It bothers me that when people are careless jerks that lack anything other than a drive for eat/sleep/work/sex/tv I get annoyed at them. Let’s see that again, shall we? It bothers me that I get annoyed at them, because this does not affect me in any way. It is not my life, and not my problem. It still irks me, because why don’t you care? Why don’t you want to know? There are incredible things out there, and you are just wading through your own mental refuse.

Most of the time I just ignore it, but sometimes I meet people that are charismatic and passing fair with the intelligence, and they just don’t care. Some have the potential to be really quite smart and mentally stimulating, and it drives me crazy that they do as little as possible when it comes to discovering anything about themselves, and then use that charisma to screw anything that will let them. So much potential, down the drain.

To be fair, this happens regardless of gender; I feel like maybe if people were less concerned with finding their next sexual conquest, and more concerned with connecting with each other on a more cerebral level, this world would be such a better place.

I fully understand and accept that what I like and what other people like may not be the same. That’s what makes this whole world unique and wonderful and amazing. I know it takes all kinds. I get it. Reading a truck load of books and ruminating on a whole lot of thoughts admittedly sounds really lame, but that’s what I love. And dude, that does not depreciate, you know? If you read or learn something, it does not take away from any experience. Learning something new or understanding something from a different approach or angle only opens up doors to understanding and learning other things that you may or may not have even known existed. Who needs drugs? With enough introspection, you can blow your own mind.

I think maybe I am a little harder on women, because what the heck, ladies? I have a sneaking suspicion that many of you are not as dumb as you let on. You are a representative of all of women everywhere, an ambassador of femalehood, and you are giving us all a bad rap. Knock that off, please.

Behavior study is so incredibly interesting to me. Especially male/female gender roles and relationships. I believe women act like idiot dingbats sometimes because that’s what we’re “supposed” to do,  and men act like big stoic macho jerk faces sometimes because that’s what they’re “supposed” to do. Here’s an idea! How about you all act like yourselves rather than what the “general stereotypical consensus” is because when women act stupid, that makes men crazy and think that women are all stupid, and then they act like jerkfaces. And when men are jerkfaces and act all macho and jerk-facey, women think they’re all like that. And then it makes women crazy. It becomes this big downhill snowball, vicious circle of “you’re all a bunch of stupid jerks.” And both groups take that emotional baggage on to the next relationship and they toss all that stuff around and break up and drag that baggage on, blah blah. (This is just an example. There are way more diverse relationships than this, and I don’t mean to suggest that any combination of woman/man or woman/woman or man/man or woman/man/man/woman/man/stuffed animal is in any way better than another. Assuming all parties, including the stuffed animal, are consenting, of course.)

Perhaps this says less about gender roles and relationships in general, and more about my relationships specifically, yeah? Maybe I’m projecting.

Actually, just gender roles themselves minus all the relationship mess is also interesting. Maybe someday society will be able to look past the “male” “female” “trans” “what have you” and see something without having to slap a label on it, though I doubt it.

Maybe what really needs to happen is I need to stop worrying about it, and get my face back into a book. The only thing any of us can do is work on ourselves; you can’t make anyone want it. That’s the thing about enlightenment, no?

Disparagingly,

Kim

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In Which I Geek Out Hardcore

You might not want to read this because I geek out hardcore and it’s really kind of sad. You have been warned.

I rented the first two Spider-man movies because Trent likes him… I worried that it may be a little too scary for him but he did fine with it.

I had a hard time with Willem Dafoe as Green Goblin because every time I looked at him, I thought Boondock Saints. Which made me picture Green Goblin rolling around the floor in stockings and a wig then yelling,  “THERE WAS A FIRE FIIIIIIGHT!”  I do this more than I should. I think Rodney Dangerfield is a huge jerk, and the only thing I have ever seen him in is Natural Born Killers. For all I know he spends his days taking care of orphans and finding homes for kittens, but that’s how much his character in that movie ruined him for me.

The part at the end of the second movie where Mary Jane leaves the dude at the altar and runs all slow motion and picturesque out of the church and past a fountain? Talk about over-kill. If I lived in a big city, this is what I would do in my spare time: I would get a big fancy wedding dress and just run through crowds.. I get a kick out of that idea. I would do it every weekend. I bet if I could get a partner in crime to agree to take pictures of people’s reactions, I could write it off as “art.”

In the end, The Good Guy gets The Girl that he’s been pining after since forever. Which, talk about delayed gratification.. It’s all fine and dandy but fast forward them having been together for 50 years; she will complain about how he always leaves his disguise on the floor for her to pick up instead of just throwing them in the hamper two feet away. She will condescendingly refer to these as his “Superhero pajamas” for the sole purpose of making him mad. And He will complain about how he always has to dig in the clothes basket for a clean spider-man suit and why can’t you just HANG UP THE CLEAN CLOTHES anyway, lazy? Well if you would bother to keep a job, then I could just hang out all day doing your laundry, but someone has to have steady work to pay the bills, Mr. Flake has to go save the world.

I read comic books when I was a kid. Spider-Man was one that I read on occasion but couldn’t really get into. Mary Jane and Peter Parker were just too boring for me to be properly entertained.  I much preferred X-Men, Generation X, The Maxx (I was 13 when The Maxx came out, but to me, this is still a kid) I might catch some flack for this but sometimes comics remind me of soap operas, even though Soap Operas annoy me. (Warning: upcoming exaggerations!) Both comics and daytime dramas have plots, sub plots, memory loss, alternate universes, alternate planes, dream sequences, possession, and other Deux es machina just because they get everything so complicated. And after a while, really, you have to because where the heck else are you going to take these things to keep people’s interest?

X-Men was pretty good. The movie(s) I was iffy about. I think they picked the perfect person to play Beast because I get the same uncomfortable annoyed feeling at Kelsey Grammar that I do at Beast. Two thumbs up on the casting for that role. I haven’t seen the new Wolverine movie but I have high expectations for Gambit. I heard bad things about this movie from people who have seen it, so I’m skeptical. Cyclops and Jean Grey I could not care less about, which is the same reaction I had when I read the comics. I can’t think of anyone more vanilla than those two; although Dark Phoenix was pretty cool. I’d like to see Rogue more, and I also dug Blink and Psylocke. The Generation X comics made me love Emma Frost/White Queen; though Jubilee got a little exasperating with her “I used to be an X-Man. I’m important! I DON’T HAVE TO LISTEN TO YOU!” Yeah. You used to be an X-Man. But you aren’t now. They removed you and put you here. So do your job. I didn’t like Banshee, he was kind of a pansy. Skin was gross, Synch kind of sucked and Monet was a intolerable. Penance was awesome and I loved her, but the whole M/Penance/Emplate/twins thing got a little contrived.

Later I got into stuff like Tank Girl, Locke and Key, 30 Days of Night, Stray Bullets, Deadpool, The Walking Dead, Girls, and then graphic novels like Lucifer, The Watchmen, The Sandman, and The Preacher.

Transmetropolitan I love, and Warren Ellis is one of my favorite writers. He also worked for Marvel and DC for a bit. More good ones are Global Frequency, Apparat, Blackgas, Fell, and Crooked Little Vein, which is a novel rather than a Graphic Novel. He’s done much more, but those are a few of my favorites.

Now to watch Pirates of the Caribbean. In addition to superheroes, Trent also loves pirates; Maybe I can cultivate that because awesome.

Am I too overprotective? Is this because maybe I was overprotected when I was little? I grew up in Arma, which is a TINY little town, and spent most of my time at my grandmother’s house at the end of a dead-end street, and I still was only allowed to ride my bicycle to the stop sign and back, even when I got older. Now, these days, I see a kid probably around 10 or 12 out riding his bike by himself (granted it was a busy street in Pittsburg) and I’m like WHAT THE HECK IS THAT KID DOING OUT HERE BY HIMSELF? WHERE ARE HIS PARENTS?! 

Puts tape on her glasses,

Kim

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Barney Gets Existential (In A Non Pretentious Way)

I thought about my past, and people I used to know, and my life and people I currently interact with. I thought about how those people I know are friends with people that I don’t even know exist, and how our view on the world and the people in it are never (usually) exactly the same.  I thought about how someone might integrate an event into their life, I might take on in an entirely different way.  We experience the same thing, but we experience it differently. Humans do not live in a void or a vacuum, and we view the world through the prism of our own experiences. Nobody has the exact same thoughts as I do, and if they do, it’s through their “this is my life, these are my friends, these are my views, these are my emotions” filter.  And if someone, somewhere at sometime lives/has lived my life pretty much exactly the same way, it would still be a tad bit different, because I’ve got my Kimbrain filter, and they’ve got theirs.

*I always swore that if I ever had children I would never ever ever do certain things.  One of these: my children would never watch Barney.  But they dig him!  They dig him so much that when they look at me with big puppy dog eyes and say “Barney, momma?”  I pop that sucker in every time.  I hate all the stupid songs, but sometimes I can picture them sung by musicians I love (and I can totally imagine Ben Folds doing 99% of these, and doing them WELL) and it gets easier to tolerate.
I was also never going to be the kind of parent that did the, “You have till the count of three” Thing.  I hate it.  I hate it more than you will ever know. I hate it with the fiery burning of a thousand suns.  One night after the kids had gone to sleep, I let the dog out.  I called her back in, and she didn’t listen to me.  I guess I never realized that I did the Counting Thing, or if I did, that I did it so much.  Because I heard myself saying, “Oatmeal!  Come inside.  One…” and then I thought, “What was that?  For one you’re counting and secondly, she’s a dog..”

Humbly,

Kim

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For Entertainment Purposes Only. Not To Be Taken Internally. Consult Physician Before Use.

I should probably mention that when reading all of my posts, you should read it with an air of smugness and sarcasm, even the weird mopey parts.  Nay, especially the weird mopey parts.  Because that’s how it sounds in my head, also it’s a lot funnier that way.

LAWN CARE EXTRAVAGANZA
When I was very young, my mom took us over to a friend’s home to play; they had a big hill by their house and they laid multiple Slip-N-Slides end to end. So, you know, they could let the little kids zoom down the hill on a wet slippery surface and I guess take bets on which child received a concussion first.
I wonder who had the bright idea of mowing beforehand. We would run at it, try to look suave while we fall down on our bums, slide down a lubricated, slippery bit of plastic, run back up the hill, collecting grass blades on your wet feet on the way, and then go back down, repeat.
After a few passes from each kid, the whole thing was covered in grass.  By the time we went home, I had a million billion grass cuts on my tiny little body.
There was a punchline to this.

I forgot.

I am my own punchline, apparently.

My mother came by to watch the kiddos so that I could mow the yard.The back yard is fenced in, so it’s easier to take care of.  In the back yard I can pull weeds, rake, etc while the kiddos run around all willy nilly and play.  The front yard has no fencing, and it would make me nervous trying to do stuff and worrying about children running into a road or something.  The trees in the front are American Sweetgums, different from the one in the back, and drop these things that are like SPIKEY BALLS OF DEATH, when they fall off the tree and dry out.  I could take the time to rake it, but again with the whole no fence thing.  Also, there are SO MANY that it would take forever.  Plus it’s more fun to get my revenge on these things by letting the lawn mower get all RAAAAAWWRRR, MULCHY! on them.
To Señor Don Gato, the neighborhood cat: You, sir, are a braver soul than I, sitting there across the sidewalk whilst ping-pong balls from hell fly hither and yon.  I know you have nine lives and all, but it seems like kind of a silly thing to waste one of them on.

With a grain of salt,

Kim

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Summer, hooray!


I can’t wait for summer. Bare feet, sandals, flip-flops! The smell of freshly cut grass. Watermelon. Swimming and sunshine. The scent of Honeysuckle on the breeze at twilight. LIGHTNING BUGS! Swing sets, butterflies! Sprinklers and the kids running through them.  A million flowers in a million colors and a million smells. And oh, the Irises! The Peonies! The Lilacs! The Daffodils! The Dandelions! The burst of absolute joy when you feel the breeze on an oh so hot day, and are granted a moment of reprieve when that sweet gentle touch cools your skin, and the wind chimes that accompany it. Running, walking, jumping, skipping!

Now that the kids are older, they are much more able to enjoy these things, like I did when I was little. I am so excited to experience and discover everything all over again, right along with them.

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Kermit The Frog Narrowly Escapes Spinning Blades Of Death. Film At 11

Dear Mister Frog,

I am glad that I didn’t run over you with my lawn mower, though this is purely for selfish reasons.  Don’t get me wrong, I am sure you’re the best froggy you can possibly be; hopping around, doing your froggy thing.  And I certainly would have felt bad, had I ended your frog-ness.  But If I saw your little froggy guts spilled all over my yard, I might have had to vomit all over your remains, and nobody wants that.

Love,
Me

THINGS YOU MAY NOT KNOW ABOUT ME
1) I hate touching paper towels. I also hate touching cardboard.  Both of these things are like fingernails on a chalkboard for me.

2)I hate sharks. I have never been to the ocean.

3) I love words.  I love to read and I love the way certain words feel in my mouth.  I love the shapes mouths take to form words, and some words I hate.  I don’t think I have a favorite word, but there are a few I hate with a deadly passion and they just make me feel icky. Lover is one. Also, pregnant is a pretty dumb word. Moist is another word I’m not a fan of. But I don’t hate them as much as I hate sharks. 

4)Sing to me and I’ll be your sucker forever. Telling me I’m funny also works well.

Putty in your hands,
Kim

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