First let me say that I LOVE the real Avatar and I was beyond happy to see any version of it. Although I really enjoyed watching this movie, it was nothing like avatar.
Problems, problems, problems!
These characters are ASIAN!!! Not from England, America, nor India. So what's up w/these people in the movie? I don't want to see a British Grandma telling an old story, this isn't frickin Narnia.
Pronunciation! People please, fans of Avatar do recall the names of the characters. Need I say more?
Uncle Iro. One of the most beloved characters of all time. He appears as a fat tea sipping jolly old elf in the real avatar, that eventually disrobes and is shown as a muscular hero. His appreciation of the old ways and spirits is like his nephew's conscience. Shamma Lamma destroyed Uncle Iro in this and I'm sure he will pay...
What can you expect when the "Avatar" movie forces Shamma Lamma to use the title "The Last Airbender"? Incidentally, Avatar sucked:( Stupid blue people stealing my Aang's name...
So if my rant isn't enough, (which if you love Avatar it's not going to be:) please visit here for another chuckle:
http://www.cracked.com/funny-5806-the-last-airbender-movie/
Today I will try and push past this movie disaster and as soon as my kids get up we're celebrating the Bday.
Other exciting thing coming up, Kathy and Maggie Griffin are coming to Borders!!!! So I'm sure I will have pics and commentary later this week for you all.
Thanks for passing the days with me!
T♥
P.S. Everything can't be work! Boring, boring, blech:(
Monday, July 12, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Posting, posting, posting...
A lot of posts these past couple of days! Now y'all know why my main blog has a header that says "I Blog Like You Twitter". In fact, I may make a graphic of that soon and copyright it. So shhh!!
Really no biz to speak of, got some logos to work on tomorrow and maybe finish up some stationary. Per request I will be at some time posting music from "The Band". They made me sing all day and now I can barely talk! Which made everyone else in the family pretty darn happy!
Anyhoo, tomorrow is my oldest son's BDay and he is turning 14. I know everyone says where the heck did the time go? But I feel like it's been a long road uphill, then a couple of slips back down again. So I'm ready to move on and push this kid through High School! My other son is starting middle school and I'm more nervous than he is.
Tomorrow, Aquarium, work, and watching other people eat cake!
T♥
It's not you, it's me. Okay, I'm lying. It IS you.
I'm sorry, Holland.
It didn't have to be this way.
I wanted to love you. I wanted you to collapse on the field in happy tears, with wild, random, speechless transports of exhausted joy at finally becoming the champion team of the world's soccer nations. I wanted to remember this year as closing the door on the rue and regret of 1974 and 1978, when the exciting beauty of your play was kicked and beaten to death first by German ruthlessness, and then by Argentine duplicity.
I want to be transported with you.
But, instead, it seemed like you were shocked and frightened by the Spanish attack you encountered in the first fifteen minutes of the Cup Final. But, instead, you didn't react by becoming the Netherlands I wanted you to be. You didn't raise your game above the Furia Roja's.
No, you spent a quarter hour playing some of the nastiest, most cynical, most brutal soccer I've seen in an international match. No, all right, I'm lying; the most nasty, cynical, brutal soccer I've seen outside an Italy-Germany match.You thugged the game into inconsequence. You made the beautiful game a thing of grinding ugliness. And with every foul I found my love for you, my hopes for you, falling right alongside the Spanish players.
In regular time you had one lovely chance denied by lucky goalkeeping. But you kept right on fouling your way out of my heart. Into the overtime, your keeper made a terrific save on a Fabregas breakaway. But you kept relentlessly fouling, fouling. It was like you didn't believe in yourselves, or perhaps your coach, van Marwijk, didn't believe that you could play soccer like the Spanish.
And finally you went down to ten men - 90 minutes after you should have - and finally you gave up the goal on a lovely half-volley shot by Andres Inesta that beat your keeper to the far corner and made all your dirty play vain.
I'm sorry, Holland. I wanted you to win. I wanted to love you.
But finally you kicked me right in the heart, too.
And with all my heart I can't be sorry you left the field in tears, and not in tears of joy.
It didn't have to be this way.
I wanted to love you. I wanted you to collapse on the field in happy tears, with wild, random, speechless transports of exhausted joy at finally becoming the champion team of the world's soccer nations. I wanted to remember this year as closing the door on the rue and regret of 1974 and 1978, when the exciting beauty of your play was kicked and beaten to death first by German ruthlessness, and then by Argentine duplicity.
I want to be transported with you.
But, instead, it seemed like you were shocked and frightened by the Spanish attack you encountered in the first fifteen minutes of the Cup Final. But, instead, you didn't react by becoming the Netherlands I wanted you to be. You didn't raise your game above the Furia Roja's.
No, you spent a quarter hour playing some of the nastiest, most cynical, most brutal soccer I've seen in an international match. No, all right, I'm lying; the most nasty, cynical, brutal soccer I've seen outside an Italy-Germany match.You thugged the game into inconsequence. You made the beautiful game a thing of grinding ugliness. And with every foul I found my love for you, my hopes for you, falling right alongside the Spanish players.
In regular time you had one lovely chance denied by lucky goalkeeping. But you kept right on fouling your way out of my heart. Into the overtime, your keeper made a terrific save on a Fabregas breakaway. But you kept relentlessly fouling, fouling. It was like you didn't believe in yourselves, or perhaps your coach, van Marwijk, didn't believe that you could play soccer like the Spanish.
And finally you went down to ten men - 90 minutes after you should have - and finally you gave up the goal on a lovely half-volley shot by Andres Inesta that beat your keeper to the far corner and made all your dirty play vain.
I'm sorry, Holland. I wanted you to win. I wanted to love you.
But finally you kicked me right in the heart, too.
And with all my heart I can't be sorry you left the field in tears, and not in tears of joy.
"The Midlife Crisis"
So what's a By Tara blog without some personal information? A blog no one wants to read, that's what! If you have followed my other blog, Jewelry by Tara you know a lot already about the wackiness that goes on in my life. The sad thing is, the weirdest stuff doesn't even make it into the blog!
Today's Sunday fun is that the "band" is getting together to jam at my house. My kids like to fondly call my husband's band "The Midlife Crisis". I like to call it a migraine, but who the heck cares what I think?
Yes, my husband is a drummer in a band, a pilot/aerobatics flyer, and part owner of a securities firm. No, I wouldn't believe me either but it's actually true!
Back to the band thingy, not only do I get to hear the sound of drums/guitar/base etc. for most of the weekend, (who am I kidding, most of my life:*( but, now they are roping me into being their singer. What do they want me to sing? ZZ Top, Creedence, everything that sounds ridiculous coming out of a girl's mouth. I have forced them to move towards Led Zeppelin so I can at least writhe around on the floor and scream. Does get some of the feedback stress out. Both the kids are making a break for it soon when they get here. Can I blame them? Between the 4 chihuahuas howling, me singing, and dad causing a quake, who would want to be in this house?
More shared personal experiences to come...
Thanks for supportin'
T☺
Today's Sunday fun is that the "band" is getting together to jam at my house. My kids like to fondly call my husband's band "The Midlife Crisis". I like to call it a migraine, but who the heck cares what I think?
Yes, my husband is a drummer in a band, a pilot/aerobatics flyer, and part owner of a securities firm. No, I wouldn't believe me either but it's actually true!
Back to the band thingy, not only do I get to hear the sound of drums/guitar/base etc. for most of the weekend, (who am I kidding, most of my life:*( but, now they are roping me into being their singer. What do they want me to sing? ZZ Top, Creedence, everything that sounds ridiculous coming out of a girl's mouth. I have forced them to move towards Led Zeppelin so I can at least writhe around on the floor and scream. Does get some of the feedback stress out. Both the kids are making a break for it soon when they get here. Can I blame them? Between the 4 chihuahuas howling, me singing, and dad causing a quake, who would want to be in this house?
More shared personal experiences to come...
Thanks for supportin'
T☺
Saturday, July 10, 2010
The Girls In Their Summer Dresses
One nice thing about the warm weather is that the heavy clothes come off.
Nice, for me, because I like the freedom of going without heavy shoes, heavy coats, everything heavy, encompassing; I like the warmth without having to dress to obtain it.
And also nice, in that everyone else gets to come out of their winter clothes and into their light shirts and sandals.
And the Portland women, and girls, so dark and dour through the winter in their rainjackets, fleece, and heavy shoes bloom in a delicious profusion of color and movement.
Floaty summer dresses, pretty tops in bright, sunny colors. Toes painted like candy lighten up sandals and flip-flops. Even their movements seem lighter and more joyful. They're lovely, and I enjoy their sudden emergence from winter's drizzly hibernation.
One odd thing I have noticed this summer more than before, though, is the number of women (in particular, though I've been seeing men doing this, too) cycling in flip-flops. This seems peculiarly dangerous; as a kid I scraped the hell out of my foot when I blew out of a cheap rubber flip-flop riding my bike. In a bike-y town like Portland it seems odd that so many people are riding this way. But, there, I'm always amazed at how many Portlanders ride without helmets. Perhaps the cycling-in-flips is just part of the casual style of this town. Seems chancy to me...
One family member who is NOT so enthused about the weather is our little cat Lily. She hates the heat and spends much of her time sleeping in the shade or trying to find shade. That, and she always gets flea-ridden this time of year. She is allergic to their bites and tears at herself until the fleabane medicine and the winter's cold drive them away again.
Speaking of bicycling, I drove home from the Timbers game tonight - nice 2-nil win over Miami - and had to stop at the corner of Willamette and Parks to let a group of riders go by. I turned down Willamette and found that the entire bike lane was full of people on bikes; cruisers, hybrids, trail-a-bikes, unicycles...people wearing tutus, tuxedos, neon, wizard's hats, bridal gowns, all manner and color of chemlight glowsticks sprouting from bikes, helmets, and riders.
Turns out that this is something called the "Night Ride", and it happens every July. I couldn't resist; I stopped at the corner of N. McKenna and Willamette, found someone's put-out-for-the-taking chest of drawers sitting in the city strip along Willamette, and leaned on it watching the show. The riders looked like they were having a great time; there was lots of laughter, lots of bells ringing and little horns honking. I waved to the cheerful unable to stifle a silly grin myself. It was all very goofy, and very Portland. I stayed and enjoyed the impromptu night parade until the last little group of stragglers passed by and left the street to the cold streetlights and the silent houses.
But now it's late, and I have to get to bed.
Hope your summer Sunday is a good one.
Nice, for me, because I like the freedom of going without heavy shoes, heavy coats, everything heavy, encompassing; I like the warmth without having to dress to obtain it.
And also nice, in that everyone else gets to come out of their winter clothes and into their light shirts and sandals.
And the Portland women, and girls, so dark and dour through the winter in their rainjackets, fleece, and heavy shoes bloom in a delicious profusion of color and movement.
Floaty summer dresses, pretty tops in bright, sunny colors. Toes painted like candy lighten up sandals and flip-flops. Even their movements seem lighter and more joyful. They're lovely, and I enjoy their sudden emergence from winter's drizzly hibernation.
One odd thing I have noticed this summer more than before, though, is the number of women (in particular, though I've been seeing men doing this, too) cycling in flip-flops. This seems peculiarly dangerous; as a kid I scraped the hell out of my foot when I blew out of a cheap rubber flip-flop riding my bike. In a bike-y town like Portland it seems odd that so many people are riding this way. But, there, I'm always amazed at how many Portlanders ride without helmets. Perhaps the cycling-in-flips is just part of the casual style of this town. Seems chancy to me...
One family member who is NOT so enthused about the weather is our little cat Lily. She hates the heat and spends much of her time sleeping in the shade or trying to find shade. That, and she always gets flea-ridden this time of year. She is allergic to their bites and tears at herself until the fleabane medicine and the winter's cold drive them away again.
Speaking of bicycling, I drove home from the Timbers game tonight - nice 2-nil win over Miami - and had to stop at the corner of Willamette and Parks to let a group of riders go by. I turned down Willamette and found that the entire bike lane was full of people on bikes; cruisers, hybrids, trail-a-bikes, unicycles...people wearing tutus, tuxedos, neon, wizard's hats, bridal gowns, all manner and color of chemlight glowsticks sprouting from bikes, helmets, and riders.
Turns out that this is something called the "Night Ride", and it happens every July. I couldn't resist; I stopped at the corner of N. McKenna and Willamette, found someone's put-out-for-the-taking chest of drawers sitting in the city strip along Willamette, and leaned on it watching the show. The riders looked like they were having a great time; there was lots of laughter, lots of bells ringing and little horns honking. I waved to the cheerful unable to stifle a silly grin myself. It was all very goofy, and very Portland. I stayed and enjoyed the impromptu night parade until the last little group of stragglers passed by and left the street to the cold streetlights and the silent houses.
But now it's late, and I have to get to bed.
Hope your summer Sunday is a good one.
I got the feedback blues:*(
Woe is me it's happening again... feedback that's unfair and never goes away. I will say this about Etsy, they at least have the Kiss 'n' Makeup feature. I'm on several freelance sites and it's been a week from h*ll with some real schmucks leaving me feedback that I feel was completely undeserved.
So what to do? Well, see the post 3 down and weed out the bad ones from the get go. My only bad feedback I ever got, (which incidentally was this week), were from people who didn't pay and tried to get something for nothing. I'm not going to get into details, but if you work for 2 weeks on something for $50, don't get paid, and then they want you to do some custom illustration on top of it, you should get some extra dinero for it! So people get pissed when I finally grew a long enough spine to put a stop to it.
This is my future thought on these clients. If you deal with people that don't respect what you do and only pick you because your logo design is cheap, you can expect to be treated cheaply. Don't do it! As with the RUN away below, you need to charge more.
Okay, now I will take my own lesson and probably forget it and do an entire corporate identity package for $100.
If you want to take a look at my Jewelry Blog, I just posted a new feature.
Love ya all, thanks for following!
So what to do? Well, see the post 3 down and weed out the bad ones from the get go. My only bad feedback I ever got, (which incidentally was this week), were from people who didn't pay and tried to get something for nothing. I'm not going to get into details, but if you work for 2 weeks on something for $50, don't get paid, and then they want you to do some custom illustration on top of it, you should get some extra dinero for it! So people get pissed when I finally grew a long enough spine to put a stop to it.
This is my future thought on these clients. If you deal with people that don't respect what you do and only pick you because your logo design is cheap, you can expect to be treated cheaply. Don't do it! As with the RUN away below, you need to charge more.
Okay, now I will take my own lesson and probably forget it and do an entire corporate identity package for $100.
If you want to take a look at my Jewelry Blog, I just posted a new feature.
Love ya all, thanks for following!
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