life: super powers not included

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First order of business!

After my How To Use Twitter and Not Annoy The Crap Out of Your Followers and Maybe Gain Some More in the Process post I wanted to say a couple more things:

1. The post wasn’t a warning to any of you. Like, “hey reader who visits my blog every day and makes me feel like I’m not taking to myself, you’re on probation. Next time you tweet (or don’t) I might unfollow.”

Not at all.

I’m mostly talking about A. people who, for lack of a better word, spam you and clog up your twitter stream, and B. people who talk at you instead of to you—or to anyone else for that matter.

There’s a good way to weed out people who will never ever talk to you (and I wish I knew this back when I was new to Twitter and following pretty much everyone). I’m sure I’m not the only one who looks at a person’s Twitter stream before following. If there aren’t a good number of @ replies I probably won’t follow. Unless…

• That person’s tweeting tips or advice I want to hear about. (Or if their life is just fascinating on its own—such as a celebrity or author.) I follow plenty of people I don’t even talk to because they’re cool and I’m not because I want to read their tips.
• That person’s tweeting links to silly things like this:

So there’s that.

Finally, for those of you who aren’t on Twitter and are rolling your eyes right now (hey, thanks for reading this far!) I give you:

All right friends, I’m off to work. Then it’s the first Friday in a long time where I don’t have something going on.

I plan to spend the entire weekend revising my book while The Man carts a huge pile of our stuff to his dad’s house. (Downsizing: not for the faint of heart.)

Kaley had a really great question on yesterday’s post (one that I’ve wondered about, too) so I though I’d let you guys discuss it in the comments: I always wonder when it’s okay to end the conversation. After all, someone has to have the last word (Tweet!), right?

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I’m doing some spring cleaning on Twitter. I follow way too many people who tweet about marketing or getting more followers or whatever. I’m guessing I followed them back in my early days on Twitter, when I didn’t realize how annoying seeing the same tweet all day long could be.

Rule No. 1 of Twitter: Engage in conversation.

Too many tweets from those people who use Twitter to promote their motivational speaking or marketing classes or The Best Product In The World And OMG You Need This? You end up looking like this:

Boring. Unfollowed.

When a person doesn’t @reply me too many times (unless it’s someone with a huge following), I unfollow. The point of Twitter isn’t to just to get links to news and other cool things. It’s a conversation. And I figure I wouldn’t keep talking to someone at a cocktail party who’s not willing to chat. Besides, there’s no shortage of people to follow.

I respond to every @notsuperhuman,* though I can’t promise it’s immediate—especially since I’m off Twitter over the weekend. But, frankly, I think it’s rude to brush someone off.

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And one more thing. Remember what it was like to have a new Twitter account? You barely had any followers and they were hard to get. Somehow there’s this idea that few followers = not worth it. Whoever said that couldn’t be more wrong.

I make it a point to follow these newer tweeple. I remember how, at only 12 or 20 followers, I got excited every time a new person followed me. Besides, the newer folks are often more likely to chat.

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I didn’t intend to do a post about Twitter, but now that I did, how about a list? I like lists. You like lists. So here we go…

Engage in conversation.
You want people to listen to you? Then talk to them.

Don’t sell.
How’d you like it if I bombarded you with links for my site/seminar/book/etc. all day long? You wouldn’t. It’s called spam.

Form relationships by replying to people who tweet you.
Would you ignore someone at a party who tried to talk to you?

Always write a bio. Always.
There’s no excuse for no bio. If I don’t know about you, how am I supposed to gauge whether you’ll tweet about things that interest me?

Provide a photo. Always.
I never, ever follow eggs and birds. There may be some great people out there who didn’t get around to uploading a photo, but I don’t care. Most eggs and birds I’ve come across are spammers.

Support new tweeters.
Follow people with few followers IF they seem interesting.

And that’s my rant. Or suggestion. Whatever.

If you’re on Twitter, leave your username in the comments!

*OK, not every one. I block spammers without replying.

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Thanks so much for your kind words about my upside-down day. Some days you just have to stick your feet in the air and close the laptop. But you guys are awesome and made me laugh, SO THANKS.

So I’ve had a realization. Less than a month in this new apartment and I already know that living across from Whole Foods, while convenient, is going to make me broke. It’s so easy for The Man to just head over whenever we’re craving something we don’t have at home.

I think I need to set a limit on the number of Whole Food trips I can make each month. Or else I’ll have to start taking up a collection for rent money.

Speaking of things that I can’t afford at Whole Foods…

Here’s something you don’t know about me: When I was in high school, I was obsessed with trying exotic fruits. I started with kiwi and pomegranate, which aren’t really exotic unless you’re a 14-year-old girl who had spent the better part of her life eating apples, oranges, and bananas.

These were my favorite:

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I had fresh passion fruit in Fiji and loved about 2 million times more than the fruit you can get at the grocery store. Passion fruit can be sour (which I like) but the fresh ones were much sweeter than any I’ve eaten from the supermarket.

So, if I were made of money and could spend a boatload on tiny fruits, I’d buy these:

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Dragon fruit
I had this one time, and while it was refreshing it wasn’t overly flavorful. It has the texture of a kiwi with a mild sweetness. I’d eat it after a spicy meal or at times when I think a popsicle is the only way to hydrate and tame my sweet tooth. (Also, aren’t they gorgeous?)

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Lychee
I’ve only had lychee fruit once, but I loved how sweet the flesh was.

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Rambutan
They look a bit like lychees but not quite. Honestly, I have no idea what this tastes like, just that people are crazy about it, especially in Thailand.

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Mangosteen
Another one I’ve never tried but have been meaning to (you know, when the lotto ticket actually pays off).

What exotic fruit is your favorite? Or, which do you most want to try?

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So I’m lying down with my feet in the air because that’s the only way the blood rushes out of my feet, and this feeling is better than sitting on a beach in Fiji with a piña colada and a slice of chocolate cake while getting sunscreened up by a hot cabana boy.

But laying on my back with my feet lifted above my head, while the highlight of my day, makes blogging kind of difficult. I need to glue my laptop to my pants, but I just don’t see how that would work in the long term. Laptops don’t go in the wash.

That’s why I’m going to close this laptop and wish you all a Tuesday in which you experience joy equivalent to the joy I feel with my feet elevated.

Because when I put them down? Guys, I’m not going to lie. I’m in pain. You can’t see my face, but this is what it looks like:

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I’m serious.

Also, thank you for your tips and advice on yesterday’s post. I was sorry to hear I wasn’t the only one who got cheated by insurance.

Also, here’s a cute baby animal to make up for my Debbie Downer post.

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Hey, mama? I has no belly button!

Here, have another:

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Excuse me, but does this sleepy kitty belong to anyone in here?

To the comments!
Share your funny stories or links so my upside down day can include a few laughs.

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Do you ever look at the clock on Sunday night to find it’s thisclose to Monday morning and you barely had a weekend? That was me last night. I didn’t watch the clock all day and then, all of a sudden, it was time to go to bed.

It’s not that my weekend was super eventful, though we did unpack some of the bedroom. I promise you two things once I’m unpacked:

1. Photos

2. Your winnings (for many of you that means bumper stickers and for Urban Solstice that means a poster, all of which are still boxed up).

Thanks for understanding.

In other news, after a month of debating with my doctor, BlueCross BlueShield decided I don’t meet the right criteria for Cymbalta. A lot of people with EM say the drug helps with the pain. But when my doctor told them that, BlueCross BlueShield replied with something you couldn’t say in a PG movie.

Of course, I spent the past month waiting for the drug like a kid counting days till Christmas. I’m on Lyrica for pain, but it just takes it down a notch. Combined with Cymbalta, though, I might not feel crazy intense burning as my feet are consumed with fire.

I paid for the drug out of pocket—$115 a month, which isn’t a big deal considering we live in a mansion and I make $2.5 million a year. Um, riiiight.

40 of these teensy pills are $115. Also, ignore my chipping polish.

If the drug works, I’ve hatched out a plan to visit BlueCross BlueShield’s offices and scream at the top of my lungs in pain until someone says:

“Wow Tracey, those beat-red feet with bulging veins feel hotter than my oven. It sure looks painful, especially when you burst into tears while walking. I think we should cover Cymbalta for you. And for being such a pain in the a$$, we’ll fly you home on our private super air conditioned jet.”

Oh, and I’m on an avocado kick again. My latest creation: BLT with cheddar, sprouts, avocado, and whole grain mustard. You can use mayo on it, but I’m gonna warn you ahead of time that it will most likely be gross. (As is everything with mayo.)

Yes, the sprouts and avocado slices make this huge. (So huge that when I ordered this they added an extra slice of toast. Truthfully, you don’t need it—or the extra slices of cheese or bacon. They just had no faith in my ability to reorganize the ingredients into a well-balanced stack.)

It almost takes my mind off my arch nemesis, BlueCross BlueShield.

Almost.

Q of the day: I love avocados on sandwiches and salads, but what other ways do you like to eat them?

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I’m not sure why, but all day Wednesday I was certain it was Thursday. So yesterday felt like Friday. What a letdown.

Still, here we are, on the cusp of a weekend. You can’t see it, but I’m jumping up and down.*

OK first, a few insane news stories, both from the New York Times. I read these and thought, seriously?

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Waiter, My Spaghetti’s Alive!
Because production of meets like beef and pork take a greater toll on the environment than other types of foods, some folks in the Netherlands are turning to bugs as a source of protein. One chain of warehouse stores (think Costco, but Dutch) sells mealworms, crickets, locust, and worms. How about a bug nugget: part chicken, part mealworm—kinda like McDonalds’ version.

SERIOUSLY?

What’s wrong with beans? They contain protein AND THEY’RE NOT ALIVE. Frankly, I’d rather eat protein powder Pixie Sticks than some sort of locust lasagna. In fact, the idea of eating bugs is so grossing me out I think I’ll skip spaghetti for at least three months.

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“Stop picking my ears,” said the corn stalk.
In what I find to be an interesting yet completely insane article, the writer says plants have feelings, too. (So a mushroom walks into a bar…**) People avoid eating animal meat because animals have feelings and can suffer, but they then chow down on vegetables that have similar characteristics to animals. Her question: Where do you draw the line? You wont eat beef because the cow suffered and yet you’ll eat wheat that also weeps when it’s cut down?

SERIOUSLY?

Listen, if you want to avoid eating anything with living cells, be my guest. You’ll last about five days without water (which has microorganisms in it). I guess you could also eat plants that died of natural causes—like the leaves of a tree that was split in half during a tornado—but even then it’s hard to tell how long plants “live” after they’re cut off from their roots. Would you be a murderer for eating green leaves? Does a leaf’s soul escape it once it’s brown? Or must you wait until it’s also crinkly? Yum.

All right, that’s your crazy news for the week. To make up for the fact that I just associated spaghetti with worms, here are a couple awesome videos I watched this week.

Watch this one all the way through. It gets better and better and better as it goes on and you might hate this guy for hogging all the talent.

Same here. I’m tone deaf so his skill (let alone put it all together) boggles my mind.

Because silly babies are cute.

Finally, check out this site, which culls some hysterical letters. Like:

and:

Let’s have fun in the comments! Fill in the form:

Dear ____,

Your gripe:  ____

Sincerely ____.

*Not really. EM, remember?

** “Sorry, we don’t serve mushrooms in here,” says barkeep. The mushroom hangs its head. “Aw, why not? I’m a fun guy.”

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I’m nothing if not observant. And judging from yesterday, I’m guessing you guys are over hearing about my book picks. So instead of telling you about more, I thought I’d talk about a new study.

The basics: Birth order might play a role in whether you have allergies. Zee researchers found that firstborns are more likely to have pink eye, hay fever, and food allergies than the rest of their siblings. (Read the details here.) The scientists said we need more research to answer everyone’s first question: why?

Here’s where I come up with my own theory and ask you not to treat me like a scientist because A. I don’t even know how to light a Bunsen burner, let alone create a sound study, and B. the last science course I took was in 2000.

I’m betting that kids whose home environments are super clean aren’t exposed to allergens. So when they finally come into contact with them? It’s like:

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But the kids who roll around and eat lint off the floor? Well, yeah. Their bodies are like, “Whatevs. That was yesterday’s lunch.”

That got me thinking about birth order. Because most of the moms I’ve met are super cautious with Baby No. 1. You need to use hand sanitizer to touch her, the pacifier gets washed every time it drops, and other things I’d probably do if I were a mom.

And then Baby No. 2 comes along and the mom, now frazzled and running on an hour of sleep from five months ago, is faced with a dropped pacifier. And she realizes that it’s not worth the bother of standing up and walking all the way to the sink while one of the kids finger paints the walls and the other attempts to scale the coffee table. The pacifier gets wiped off and popped back in the baby’s mouth.

But it’s totally just my theory.

Speaking of birth order, I thought it’d be fun to find out where you guys stand. Are you the first born? Middle child? Youngest?

If you’re an only child, know that most of us hated you as kids. Sorry, but you always had the most toys and never had to share.

I’m sure you guys know this (right, because you monitor my life so closely) but I’m the oldest. I have one younger sister. And, yeah, I was the typical oldest child:

A perfectionist (still am)

Bossy (as a kid, so cut me some slack)

Always in trouble for crimes I didn’t commit

I was am also a major klutz. I think I’m missing a sense of balance or something, and I’m not sure if that’s an older child thing. Probably not. Still, I spent most of my childhood like this:

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Lovely.

So where do you fit in? And were you a typical first, middle, youngest, or only child?

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Yesterday I went to the eye doctor (more on that later) and there were FRECKLES and HOLES involved and COMPLETELY DILATED EYES. For some reason that dilation crap does a number on me. It’s supposed to wear off in an hour but right now I’m on hour six and not fully back to normal. That means no sunlight and the inability to read clearly. It basically turns me into an illiterate vampire.

That has nothing to do with anything, but I thought I should keep you up on my many comings and goes, which are mostly to one doctor or another. (I hear ya, you want to be me.)

For some strange reason, after I got home from the eye doctors I had an intense desire to vlog for you. Maybe that’s because I couldn’t—kind of how I never had the desire to be a runner until my knees stopped working. Right, so no vlogging because I figured it’d be a little weird if I were in a dark room and squinting the whole time.

So more book recommendations. I’m trying to pick ones that should be available at the library, too. On that note, if you like…

ADORABLE BUT SOMEWHAT DORKY TEEN BOYS WITH MAJOR CRUSHES

The back cover says: Quentin Jacobsen has spent a lifetime loving the magnificently adventurous Margo Roth Spiegelman from afar. So when she cracks open a window and climbs back into his life – dressed like a ninja and summoning him for an ingenious campaign of revenge – he follows. After their all-nighter ends and a new day breaks, Q arrives at school to discover that Margo, always an enigma, has now become a mystery. But Q soon learns that there are clues – and they’re for him. Urged down a disconnected path, the closer he gets, the less Q sees of the girl he thought he knew.

First off, Q is so adorable you’ll want to date him. Also, the mystery involved around Margo is exciting and interesting up until the end. But most importantly, Paper Towns manages to be both beautiful and hilarious. (Seriously. There’s one scene where I laughed so hard I started to cry. And The Man thought I went insane—until he read this and laughed his butt off.)

A WRINKLE IN TIME

The back cover says: By sixth grade, Miranda and her best friend, Sal, know how to navigate their New York City neighborhood. They know where it’s safe to go, and they know who to avoid. Like the crazy guy on the corner. But things start to unravel. Sal gets punched by a kid on the street for what seems like no reason, and he shuts Miranda out of his life. The apartment key that Miranda’s mom keeps hidden for emergencies is stolen. And then a mysterious note arrives, scrawled on a tiny slip of paper. The notes keep coming, and Miranda slowly realizes that whoever is leaving them knows things no one should know. Each message brings her closer to believing that only she can prevent a tragic death. Until the final note makes her think she’s too late.

Newbery award-winning When You Reach Me is a lovely tribute to A Wrinkle In Time, one of my childhood favorites. You don’t have to love A Wrinkle In Time to appreciate this book. It’s hard not to love the characters. And the plot? The mystery is woven beautifully and the twist at the end is pitch perfect.

ADVENTURE

The back cover says: Imagine waking up one day in total darkness, unsure of where you are and unable to remember anything about yourself except your first name. You’re in a bizarre place devoid of adults called the Glade. The Glade is an enclosed structure with a jail, a graveyard, a slaughterhouse, living quarters, and gardens. And no way out. Outside the Glade is the Maze, and every day some of the kids — the Runners — venture into the labyrinth, trying to map the ever-changing pattern of walls in an attempt to find an exit from this hellish place. So far, no one has figured it out. And not all of the Runners return from their daily exertions, victims of the maniacal Grievers, part animal, part mechanical killing machines. Thomas is the newest arrival to the Glade in this Truman-meets-Lord of the Flies tale. A motley crew of half a dozen kids is all he has to guide him in this strange world. As soon as he arrives, unusual things begin to happen, and the others grow suspicious of him. Though the Maze seems somehow familiar to Thomas, he’s unable to make sense of the place, despite his extraordinary abilities as a Runner. What is this place, and does Thomas hold the key to finding a way out?

What I love about The Maze Runner is the nonstop action. That plus the mystery—why the heck are we trapped here and WHAT THE HECK IS IN THAT MAZE?!—make the book unputdownable. Why yes, that is a word.

Quick, if you were trapped in a land enclosed by a giant maze, what would your strategy be for finding the exit? (Don’t think the maze in The Maze Runner is that easy to beat, though.)

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When I posted about the mental health benefits of reading, some of you expressed interest in my favorite YA books. (And by “expressed interest” I mean “seemed at least mildly interested.” I take what I can get, people.)

I was going to post them all today, but with descriptions (which I think you’ll agree are kinda sorta important) this blog post would have been eerily similar to a 10th grade term paper. So I’ll split this up into a few smaller posts. You’re welcome.

First a disclaimer: Don’t ask me how any of these compare to Twilight. Honestly, I haven’t read the books. I did see the movies, so I get that it’s basically about a 100-year old vampire who stalks a teen girl, who then falls so in love that she can’t live without said dead old man. And there’s a guy who can’t afford shirts.

And then a note: I think I’ve made my love for The Hunger Games series pretty clear. I won’t elaborate because there’s really nothing to say besides GET THYSELF TO A BOOKSTORE and buy the trilogy pronto.

Ahem, moving on. Here’s what you should buy if you like …

TRAVEL AND CUTE BOYS

The back cover says: Anna is looking forward to her senior year in Atlanta, where she has a great job, a loyal best friend, and a crush on the verge of becoming more. Which is why she is less than thrilled about being shipped off to boarding school in Paris—until she meets Étienne St. Claire: perfect, Parisian (and English and American, which makes for a swoon-worthy accent), and utterly irresistible. The only problem is that he’s taken, and Anna might be, too, if anything comes of her almost-relationship back home.

I don’t usually pick up contemporary YA where the plot revolves around a romance. (And, please, get the idea of romance being like a romance novel out of your head. We’re talking about first crushes and first loves here, not rippling abs.) Still, Anna and the French Kiss captivated me from the first page. Reading this book is like taking a mini trip to Paris—the setting is so vividly described that it’s almost another character. I also loved the relationship between Anna and Étienne. It’s full of those “does he like me, did he just look at me” insecurities we all had as teens.

CRYING (AND HOLOCAUST STORIES)

The back cover says: It’s just a small story really, about among other things: a girl, some words, an accordionist, some fanatical Germans, a Jewish fist-fighter, and quite a lot of thievery… Narrated by Death, Markus Zusak’s groundbreaking new novel is the story of Liesel Meminger, a young foster girl living outside of Munich in Nazi Germany. Liesel scratches out a meager existence for herself by stealing when she discovers something she can’t resist- books. Soon she is stealing books from Nazi book-burnings, the mayor’s wife’s library, wherever they are to be found. With the help of her accordion-playing foster father, Liesel learns to read and shares her stolen books with her neighbors during bombing raids, as well as with the Jewish man hidden in her basement

Honestly, even if you hate historical fiction you need to read The Book Thief. I’ll give you three reasons:

1. It’s narrated by Death.

2. It’ll make you laugh and cry bawl.

3. It’s one of the best books I’ve ever read.

That’s all for today. (She said like a kindergarten teacher during story time?) Tomorrow I’ll tell you about a few more books I love.

In the mean time: What’s your favorite type of story? (Take that to mean whatever you want it to mean.)

I thought I’d be posting pictures of my new apartment today but, yeah, not a lot of unpacking happened this weekend. OK, maybe just a box or two. I worked over the weekend and The Man took the opportunity to watch an inordinate amount of college basketball. From the lack of angry shouts, I’m guessing his teams did well.

Anyhow, you’ll have to wait to see the place. I mean, to see more than this:

Oh, you don’t like the wall of boxes I created? I thought it was modern art.

So yesterday I read this New York Times article about the telephone—and how no one likes to use it anymore. (It’s worth a read despite the fact that everyone the writer interviewed worked in the publishing industry. Apparently she couldn’t find a single person without a publishing connection. And, for anyone who’s about to say Jonathan Adler isn’t in publishing: That’s right; he’s an interior designer who WROTE A BOOK.)

Still, I couldn’t agree more with the article. Frankly, I hate talking on the phone. I know that’s strange since I conduct dozens of interviews, but in real life I avoid the phone as much as I can.

This is not a new thing. I never liked talking on the phone, even when I was a tween and it was so cool to talk for hours with your friends. The Man and I had marathon phone conversations when we were 500 miles apart and dating, but that was a fluke—desperate times and desperate measures and whatnot.

Here’s the thing: It’s boring. In order to focus on what the person’s saying, you have to step away from the computer. You have to just sit there and pretend to forget about the 9,000 other things you should be doing. Sure, you could do something productive, like cook dinner, but even then you’re probably not giving as much thought to the conversation as you would while writing an email.

And that’s my main gripe. It’s 10 times easier and faster to write a detailed email. For scheduling purposes, email and text give you time to consider your calendar—or whether you want to say yes or no. And you can still watch TV or listen to music or whatever while emailing.

(I should mention I talk on the phone with my mom, though. She’s not yet a fan of The Email.)

Like the article mentions, the telephone is an intrusion. Imagine this: I’m eating dinner or watching a movie and the phone rings. I can:

A. Pick it up and interrupt my dinner or movie.

B. Ignore it, adding “Call ___Enter name of old person here___ back” to your to-do list.

In both cases, the caller assumes you’ll drop everything to talk to them. And getting back to a phone call? Much more time consuming than responding to an email or text.

So what have we learned today?

How about you: do you like to chat on the phone?