We started the year relatively quietly- no noisemakers, firecrackers or loud music of our own, although we certainly enjoyed enough of that from our neighbors.

At midnight we kissed.

For lack of typical New Year’s Resolutions, I have a list of “plans” for 2010. Plans sound so much better than Resolutions, no?

Improve and expand my online bakeshop. This little business is closest to my heart, but I’ve often had to let it take a backseat to larger projects.

Write more. Because I’m fully aware that to continue calling myself a writer, I must write. I recently discovered the very awesome Ommwriter, which has given my writing a much-needed kickstart.

Be a better web designer. I recently posted New Year’s Resolutions for Web Designers, and have every intention of keeping them myself.

Be a better wife/daughter/aunt/person. I’m extremely grateful for the people closest to me, though I may not always show it. That changes this year.

It’s easy to blame other things for the mess: the house doesn’t have enough storage, our desks don’t have enough drawers, etc.- but the truth is that we probably don’t need a lot of this stuff.

Today I read a post on my new favorite blog mnmlist titled Buying is not the solution. This line, in particular, caught my eye:

We want to get organized, we’ll buy containers or folders or closet organizers.

That is so typical me: in the last month of trying to get organized, I must have bought dozens of containers and folders and labels. Most of which are still in bags, waiting to help me get organized, while adding to the clutter.

To celebrate, I baked them a big batch of peanut butter biscuits, in bone shapes. I based it on the recipe here, with a few changes: I made my own peanut butter out of peanuts and olive oil in the food processor, and replaced the corn oil with olive oil. They love it.

Then again, is there anything these dogs don’t love? They’re such joyous dogs.

Happy Birthday, my babies!

Lately, I’ve been hearing and reading more and more people getting the word “blog” all wrong. Today, for example, I read a comment on a Facebook status update that said something like “Please let me comment on the above blogs”. He meant, of course, the comments above his. Which, I’m sorry, are definitely not blogs. They’re not even blog posts. They’re comments on a Facebook status update.

“A blog (a contraction of the term weblog) is a type of website, usually maintained by an individual with regular entries of commentary, descriptions of events, or other material such as graphics or video. Entries are commonly displayed in reverse-chronological order. “Blog” can also be used as a verb, meaning to maintain or add content to a blog.”

- Wikipedia

Now that’s what a blog is.

]]> http://www.ilorraine.com/i-promise-myself/feed/ 0 http://www.ilorraine.com/lovely-geek/ http://www.ilorraine.com/lovely-geek/#comments Wed, 21 Mar 2007 00:03:02 +0000 admin http://lorraine.vox.com/library/post/lovely-geek.html?_c=feed-rss-full It's 1981. I am 7 years old, and my mother asks me what summer courses I want to take. My only answer: Basic Computing.

It sounds like a joke, even as I write it now, but I was completely serious. Mom, to her credit, didn't laugh- didn't even question why a 7 year old girl preferred Basic Computing over something like tennis or art or theater (which I also did, in later years). Instead, she signed me up for the course, and I spent my summer vacation learning to write BASIC on an Apple IIe. Mom rocked.

I remember being the youngest in the class, and the only girl. My classmates were mostly in their teens, and they didn't talk to me. During breaks, and sometimes when the teacher wasn't looking, I fired up Lemonade Stand, thrilled whenever I was given a weather report of hot and dry, because it meant I could jack up the prices on my virtual lemonade.

For years after that, I asked for only one thing every birthday or Christmas: my own computer. I wanted an Apple IIc, because it was cute and small and girly (and hello, Lemonade Stand!) and the year I turned 15, I got one. It was secondhand, but that meant that it also came with an ImageWriter and- be still my beating heart!- a Koala Pad.

This was me. This is me. It's why I've never been afraid of computers, why, despite knowing better, I see computers as so much more than just a "tool". I am a geek- a lovely, hip, beautiful geek.

What I didn't realize was how much it would change my life. I don't just write when I'm out there, see, I also read and meditate and plan my day. Out there, when the sky is still dark, the air fresh and cool on my face, with only Jonah our basset hound as my companion, I prepare myself for a wonderful day ahead.

And you know what? When I plan to have a glorious day, I always do. Things fall into place. Projects get completed. People seem to smile more. I smile more.

I've always been a "night person", and proud of it. For years, I described myself as a "tireless insomniac" and thought it was even a little cute. But I'm so much happier as an early riser- so much so that I've been waking up at a quarter to five these past few days and jumping out of bed in glee.

Today I woke up, started getting dressed, then looked at the clock and realized it was only 3:46 a.m. How excited am I?

If you want to be an early riser, I recommend reading Steve Pavlina's How to Become an Early Riser, Part II, and How to Get Up Right Away when Your Alarm Goes Off. All good stuff.

Growing up, I went out of my way to be different from everyone else. This explains why I was known for dressing a little, um, out there, in high school, streaking my hair purple and gold and (my favorite) bright green, brushing my eyelashes with yellow mascara. I took three dates to the prom, painted "Anarchy" on the back of my jean jacket, and- perhaps most telling of all- staunchly refused to tease my bangs. In a room full of Filipino teenagers in the late 80's, you couldn't miss me.

When did this change? When did I start to try to blend in with other women my own age? When did I decide I would trade in my flouncy colorful poets blouses for little black dresses, my loud fancy jewelry for smaller, understated pieces?

It's 2007, and it's time to let my daring self out of hiding. Different doesn't have to mean tacky, colourful doesn't have to mean obnoxious… and daring can be absolutely darling.