13 going on 148,683,193

Hello readers. I apologize (for those who noticed?) for having to remove two blog posts. The posts entitled, "Ode to the Creative Mind" and "The Drop Off." I am in the process of copyrighting my work, so I am doing what is necessary to protect my work until then.

Well. While I'm here... I guess I should let you know about my new business adventure... or venture. Why can't it be an adventure? I think it is. So it will be called my "business adventure."

I have started something called "In The Rain" and I admit, I really should have wrote it as, "in the rain"- I wasn't thinking when I made up the website or the business cards, so it's stuck like that. You've read it here first. So where was I? Ah yes. My business adventure called "In The Rain."  You should find it on Facebook and "like" it. Why? Because it makes me feel good, look cool/good, and its a huge boost for my self esteem and will to work. Let's be honest- that's all a "like" is on Facebook.

When you are the "liker", it makes you look cool because it shows up on your page and your friends think, "What's this!? What do they like that I do not know about?" So they, too, will end up liking it. The next time you talk to them (if you even physically talk to your "friends" on Facebook), you'll say, "Oh hey, I didn't know you liked "blank". And they will respond, so cool and nonchalantly, "Oh- "blank"? Yeah, I've known about them for awhile. They're great." While really they're thinking, "Oh God please don't ask me anything about "blank"- I don't know anything about them!!!! I better by the next time I talk to him so he knows that I know..." And of course, you're thinking, "Oh really? Always liked them, huh? Yeah right- I should ask him something about "blank" to test him- but I'm not that mean. I'll let it slide. I guess its good for more people to know about "blank." " -Even though for some reason, we never want others to know about underground things we like because we're afraid "blank" will "sell out"... even though that's "blanks" goal - to sell out of whatever it is they're doing that you like- ahhhhhh! Sigh. Okay, sorry for the long rant. Phew ok- as I was saying.

As for the "liked" it just makes their page look even cooler and more noticed. But also, it puts on a new found pressure- at least when the numbers are more obvious. Currently, on my page, I have 13 "likes". WOW. I'd like to ask someone- preferably the one who is the page holder of a fan base in the millions- what its like at that point. I'd imagine posts get easier to write since you'll likely obtain commenters who must comment on absolutely everything on Facebook- whether its commenting worthy, or not. But really, 13 is a little more noticeable than 148,683,193- and growing by the second. Sometimes I will "like" something, then "unlike" it, and then "like" it again, just to see what number it jumped to. Its like people are making Facebook's and "liking" that page immediately upon making their account. It is madness honestly. But also, I suppose, some page holders are making a good amount of money so they really don't have to try hard anymore- there's no pressure anymore. For instance, have you read any/all posts by singers/performers/artists- what have you, Kesha and Lady Gaga? Kesha's current Facebook status is: "dude~!!!" Really? Kesha is either trying too hard or not trying at all. Oh, such mystery. And Lady Gaga? Well. We all have our opinions. But according to her Facebook page, she's not the author of her posts- at least she didn't hire someone to pretend to be her... who knows what the case for Kesha. I actually love both artists, but my point is that they are making so much money, they don't actually care what's being posted on their Facebook (or what they are wearing apparently.) So my point? I care about my page because I don't have 148,683,193 "likes" on my page... yet. But with your help...

Have I gone off topic again!?And here all I really wanted to say was that I'm sorry for removing two blog posts. I guess that's the beauty of writing.

"Like" In The Rain. You should. Maybe my 13 will grow... but, maybe not...

https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/In-The-Rain/250011188374893

"Hi, one margarita, please." "Sure thing, just need to see your Facebook."

What!? Two posts in one month?! Get outta here. But no, no, my readers, its true! For I have some things to share with you. Stories, really- a suggestion made by my mother. So I apologize to my mother and to one of my followers (who is also my dear friend), Vanessa, because I shared these stories with them yesterday, so this blog post may not be as exciting for them. But, there's still hope for you.

So the stories go something like this:

Pulling into my driveway on my way home from work on Monday, I see a huge package on the front porch. I think, “Hmph. Weird.”

I get out of the car, walk up to the front porch and attempt to pick up the package. Its heavy. No. Make that, ridiculously heavy. So instead of carrying it, I drag the package through the front door and into my house with all my might. It says: "To Amy Burns". So, naturally, I begin to open it- it is for me, after all. Inside the package, sitting on top, I find a plastic Ziplock (I believe it was the off brand, but I'm not really sure what to call it- its that "tissues" versus "Kleenex" complex) bag with a set of blue gloves and a folded note inside. I open the bag, unfold the note and read: "Hi Amy, hope you enjoy this- you don’t owe us anything for it, just send us some signed poetry.” I think- “What?!”  I put on the blue gloves and begin to further open the package. There are packing peanuts flying everywhere. This package opening ceremony began to turn into an archeological dig- or perhaps even a treasure hunt. Finally, under all the packing peanuts, I find... another box. I open that box. More packing peanuts. Ugh! Under that layer, I then discover a white plastic bag. I rip open the bag and I see the top of a black object with a label reading, “Royal.” I squeal. I am grinning so large, I almost embarrass myself. I am now ripping the plastic bag and removing packing peanuts in an accelerated rate- anxious to reveal my... typewriter. (The gloves were for the typewriter itself- it had a protective finishing oil on it or something.) Inside the box was a fully restored and very old classic Royal Typewriter from Stephen’s aunt and uncle who own their own typewriter restoration business. (They were found by the Discovery Channel and their business will be featured on TV this fall!) I have always wanted a vintage typewriter, but could never afford one. Still, I hoped to have one someday. That day, was Monday. So, needless to say, I will be typing away on my... haven't picked a name for it yet. But you get what I'm saying. 

Okay, that is the first story. 

Then, later that evening....

I realized I was in the area for the very first time since I had left my credit card at a Mexican restaurant (you know, from after having one too many margaritas.) So I begin my driving journey to the restaurant to retrieve my credit card. I turn to my purse to grab my wallet because I need to present a photo ID to prove my identity as the cardholder to the manager of the restaurant. You can guess where this is going. I can’t find my wallet. I dig and dig and dig in my purse looking for it. I think, “Where the heck did I put that thing?!” I remember. My brother. I left my wallet at my brother's house. So, my wallet, with my photo ID, is at my brother’s house- which is 30 minutes away- and my credit card is at a Mexican Restaurant, which I cannot get without my photo ID, which is in my wallet... which is at my brother's house. Sigh. But, I drive to the restaurant anyway. Telling now, but should have at the beginning of this story, and don't feel like making the grammatical corrections, my husband, Stephen, is also with me. I tell Stephen to go in to get my credit card- he has his photo ID and his last name matches mine. Easy right? So, Stephen goes in to the restaurant, and Stephen comes out- and quite unhappy, not to mention unsuccessful. He was so mad in the restaurant, he apparently called the manager  “ridiculous”- saying this to the manager, of course. So, I think. “Well, what have I got to lose?” I thought. “Worst they can do is say no and I go back another night.” I hesitate. Realizing that what I will do next is really not like me at all. But then, I grow excited and anxious to do it. (I am now considering this as a turning point in my life. I, my readers, was almost assertive!) I walk in to the restaurant and firstly apologize for my husband’s behavior. I then tell the manager that I am the cardholder but do not have any photo ID on me. He refuses to give me the card. So I begin to talk louder. “I really need my card, sir- I know I am to have a photo ID but I do not have my wallet- I just need my card!” He stares at me. “OK, how ‘bout this?" I continue and now displaying my Iphone,  "I have a Facebook- I can show you my picture and my name and you can see that it’s me!” People dining at the restaurant are starting to stare at me. For a moment, I feel as though I am in an old western movie- you know, the scene when I walk in to the bar through the swinging doors and I say, well, something western-like and probably insulting to someone- making the room intensely quiet? Yes. That was me in a Mexican restaurant. So anyway, the manager says,  “Ma’am, we really need a photo ID” “OK OK OK OK OK," I go on, "how 'bout this: I have a photo of my passport on my phone, can I show you that?” His expression changes; he’s pondering. “Okay” he says. (I had a photo of my passport because Stephen sent me a picture of it to my phone when my passport arrived in the mail last month.) But then I quickly realize I probably don’t have the photo anymore, that, or it would take entirely too long to find it and I likely don't have that kind of time with this man's lack of patience. So, I instead say, “Look, here’s my Facebook!” Not even giving him a choice to see my passport photo. He takes my phone and is passing it around to four employees. I am now standing trial  before four Mexican jurors for my credit card. Three employees say, “yes, yes- that’s her! Look- she’s wearing a scarf in this picture.” I laugh because I happen to be wearing a scarf at this moment, too. So I say, “Yep, I’ve got that whole scarf thing going- it really is me.” The fourth employee, juror, looks at me and says, “Is this your twin?” So I take it lightheartedly and said, “Psh, I wish!” Laughter follows. The manager, or judge, still looking hesitant hands over my phone with the card on top. I say, “look, I won’t look at the card, take it back and I’ll recite the number to prove its mine” All five of them at this moment say, “yeah, yeah ok. ok! Say it!” So the manager (Judge) and 1 other employee (juror) look at the card and I begin, “xxxx- xxxx-x“ (I'm not going to give you this information- hah!) Before I can finish, the manager says, "OK, you can have your card," and the employees clap and cheer. I say, “I’m in here all the time and your margaritas were really good that night. Thank you so much!” And I leave the restaurant triumphantly- no, victoriously. (I am really just not sure which word is better for this story.) I get in the car and Stephen’s face said it all. What I take from this? Facebook is a form of ID AND it pays to have your credit card number memorized.  

What a world.

Cloudy, rainy, and tortellini?

Today is a yucky, dreary, gray, dark, wet, and gloomy day. As you really should know by now, I LOVE this weather. I am always inspired to write on rainy days- and always craving tortellini. Hmph. 

Anyway, here's today's thought: 

The word "definitely" is definitely spelled "definitely," not "defiantly." "Definitely" is definitely not spelled "definitely" defiantly.

Amazing how we overlook this spelling error. I mean, to think:

"I will defiantly go on a date with you." -Ouch!    But people read that as, "I will definitely go on a date with you." Usually, the person using the spelling error means "definitely" when writing "defiantly," but what if not!? If one wrote, "I will defiantly go on a date with you," and meant "defiantly," the other person will still read it as, "I will definitely go on a date with you" because the word "definitely" has been misspelled as "defiantly" for... well... a really long time. 

A friend of mine owns her own business- she makes jewelry (Check it out on Etsy.com - VinBellish). Well, while looking at some of her designs on the Internet, I couldn't help but also view the comments and opinions of other buyers/lookers, such as myself. I was reading some comments like, "Did you make that?! Its gorgeous!" and "I love this!" and also, "Beautiful!" But then. I saw it. I saw this comment: "Sooo Pretty! When I get a chance I will defiantly check out your stuff! I love jewerly with pretty stones!" 

Now, right away I knew the author meant, "definitely" because "jewelry" was misspelled as "jewerly," but that's besides the point. I then reread the comment and instead read it for what it literally read: "defiantly," and laughed. I laughed mainly because I now wonder how many people write "defiantly", mean "defiantly," but know they're safe with their honest and mean response because it will be read and be treated as "definitely." I am almost daring myself to try this...

I can remember the last time I misspelled "definitely" as "defiantly." The person called me out on it and I was forever cured- going on 8 years- be proud! It was that same day I learned "customers" are quite different than "costumers". This might be one of the few times I have ever been grateful for being corrected. I could have easily defiantly misspelled "definitely" as "defiantly". Hmph. Now where's my tortellini!?