The Soggy Blogger
I live in a soggy city. I have a soggy blog.
I'd rather be a soggy blogger than a soggy frog.

Saturday, April 05, 2003  


When my cat wants to go outside in the middle of the night, she paws at the metal springy-thing that keeps the door from hitting the wall. This method is quite effective, as it emits a loud twang that is offfensive to the ears and impossible to sleep through. It is also quite annoying.

I must love her a lot to keep her around.

Word of the day: propinquity: (proh-PING-kwi-tee), n. Nearness in place in time, proximity; also, nearness or similarity in nature, kinship, close relation. (The Soggy Blogger is always a bit taken aback by the sudden propinquity that is created by a visit from her parents.")

posted by Anne on 10:13 AM | link

Friday, April 04, 2003  


"You know the world is going crazy when the best rapper is a white guy, the best golfer is a black guy, the tallest guy in the NBA is Chinese, the Swiss hold the America's Cup, France is accusing the U.S. of arrogance, Germany doesn't want to go to war, and the three most powerful men in America are named 'Bush', 'Dick', and 'Colon'"

- Chris Rock

posted by Anne on 1:55 PM | link

...But what makes a soggy blog?

I am still very new to the World of the Blog. I know that this will betray my complete lack of hipness, but up until about a month and a half ago, I had never even heard the term. Yes, that's how out of touch I am. This whole culture fascinates me, though, and I am continually trying to...figure it all out, I guess. I have a million questions -- about the genre, the people, the process, everything.

Today, I found a great article/post (you see? what do i call it?) by a woman named Maria Benet, titled "The Voice of Authority: What Makes a Sticky Blog."
"It occurs to me, as I try one fancy blogging tool after another, that maintaining a successful blog -- however simple or complex in design, however frequently or infrequently the posts go up, however fragmented or carefully wrought the prose may be -- requires something that the Web is not very good at supplying, and which has little to do with technology. Maintaining a successful blog requires a solid sense of identity."

So what do you think? What makes you return to the same URL every day, and what are you hoping to find? As for my own self, I am still trying to figure that out...

Word of the day: farrago: (fuh-RAY-goh or fuh-RAH-goh), n. A mixture, especially a confused of jumbled mixture. ("The Soggy Blogger hopes to provide some semblance of identity within this abyssal farrago that is the blogsphere.")

posted by Anne on 10:46 AM | link

Thursday, April 03, 2003  

I try not to post about the war, but...

...I took a lot of cultural/media studies courses in college. I've always been very interested in the way that technology and media both affect and shape our lives. Thus, Marshall "the medium is the message" McLuhan is a bit of a demi-god for me. How pleased I was to see this article in the New York Times today -- great commentary on the war in Iraq and the way we watch it. And how the way we watch it affects what it is. And so forth.
"In this war, the perception of winning is almost the same as winning. If Saddam Hussein can appear to be in power on television, he is in power. If the United States military can show the world that it is winning, then it is winning."

If you are a mediaphile, you will love it. If not, you will wonder why in hell anyone would find it interesting to begin with. As with all New York Times articles, you may have to subscribe to their online paper in order to read the article, but it's free and easy to do. And really, who doesn't want a free subscription to the New York Times?

posted by Anne on 9:28 PM | link

Code Red!

The parents are coming! The parents are coming! Sound the alarms! Batton down the hatches! Hide all incriminating evidence!

Yes, my parents are arriving this afternoon for a long weekend visit. Stay tuned...

Word of the day: faineant, (FAY-nee-int), adj. Lazy, idle, sluggish, good-for-nothing. ("The Soggy is expecting visitors this afternoon, and so it's time for her to get her faineant derierre up from in front of the computer and go clean her apartment.")

posted by Anne on 9:52 AM | link

Wednesday, April 02, 2003  


On a bright and sunny spring afternoon...On the afternoon after the morning in which you've just thoroughly cleaned your car -- inside and out -- and the beads of car wash water still glisten on the windshield...And the Dandy Warhols are singing through your speakers as you cruise down the street, hitting every light green...

On an afternoon such as this, you smile at your grinning self in the rear-view mirror, and a voice inside your head says "Today, I am Supercool. Bring it on..."

And then, of course, the rain clouds begin to gather.

Word of the day: cachinnate, (KAK-i-NAYT), v. To laugh loudly and immoderately, laugh convulsively or hysterically. ("The Soggy Blogger was fairly certain that there was some sort of diety up there, cachinnating at her dismay as the rain fell on her freshly washed car. But the Soggy Blogger will have the last laugh, for she also just replaced her wiper blades.")

posted by Anne on 7:13 PM | link

Tuesday, April 01, 2003  

Between here and eternity...

Today, while carpooling kids from school to the orthodontist/Nathaniel's house/piano lessons and then home again, my five year old friend explained to me the plot of the movie (and book), Tuck Everlasting. The basic gist of the story is this: the members of the Tuck family somehow drink magic water and never age. There's a tree and a music box and what I think was a love interest thrown in there as well, but because my knowledge of the subject at hand stems from the explanatory powers of a five year old, I am a bit fuzzy on the details.

So I asked him if he would like to do this -- stay five years old forever and never die. He said that no, he wouldn't, but that he thinks he might like to live forever at the age of thirteen. (His oldest brother just turned thirteen, and the little guy is very impressed with all of the priveleges it affords.) As I sat in the front seat and contemplated on how he had just described my own personal vision of hell, his small voice piped up from in the back, "...Or eighty."

Word of the day: lissome, (LIS-um), adj. Limber, flexible, moving with ease and grace. ("The Soggy Blogger's lissome feline companion has somehow found her way up onto the roof, but unfortunately lacks the courage to get back down.")

posted by Anne on 7:18 PM | link

Praying for War.

Our troops, and people in general, deserve our prayers. To God, Allah, The Great Force, whatever. There's no doubt about that. We all need all the help we can get. But I have to say that all this "God Rhetoric" in the face of a suspicious war has got me feeling a little...suspicious.

There's a great article in the New York Times Magazine this week about the very same thing. It closes with an interesting piece by Mark Twain, who "reminds us exactly what we are praying for when we ask God to take sides in war and accomplish the destruction of our foe."
War Prayer

O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; us to turn them out roofless with their little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolate land. ... We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love.

Not trying to spout rhetoric, just something to think about.

posted by Anne on 12:03 AM | link

Monday, March 31, 2003  

I know it's been all over the internet, and it's taken from the Weekly World News, but I still can't help but be intrigued by the story of the time traveler who made a killing in the stock market. And I know I'm not alone.

I think it speaks to some fairytale-ish part inside of us, a part that really wants to believe that it's true. Time travel is such a fantastic notion, after all. Especially now, when all the news we read is either horrifying or insipid, it is so tempting to believe in Andrew Carlssin and his time machine. News as escapism. I should read the tabloids more often.

When I was little, I used to daydream that Laura Ingalls Wilder somehow time-travelled to the 1980s. And it was me who was chosen to show her around and impress her with all of our modern conveniences. My favorite was always the microwave. She loved that.

posted by Anne on 10:32 PM | link

Over the weekend, my husband Colin and I were told that we look like brother and sister. This is not the first time we've heard this, regardless of the fact that we don't share any genetic traits and nor do we even have similar facial features. We're both on the "not tall" side of things, and have a similar hair color, but that's about it. I suspect that it's a height issue. People are always looking down on us.

What's the appropriate response to that statement, anyhow? It is kind of a creepy thing to hear, and it gets to be annoying after a while. I usually just grimace and say "Yeah, we've heard that before," but what I really want say is "Well, we're NOT. So stop looking at us funny." And then I'd kick 'em in the shins.

Word of the day: malinger, (muh-LING-gur), v. To pretend to be sick or incapacitated so as to avoid work or duty; to shirk or dodge responsibility by feigning illness or inability. ("See how the Soggy Blogger does not malinger, but rather, faces, undaunted, the duties of a Monday.")

posted by Anne on 11:13 AM | link

Sunday, March 30, 2003  


Personally, I love my life. I do. I am amazed by life. Life astounds me. But content as I am, there is always, lurking below the surface, that little voice that says that I could (and therefore should) be doing more, better, sooner, etc. Does this ever go away? And would it be a good thing, if it did?

Today, I spent some much-needed time at Gasworks Park; listening to music, watching kites.

Word of the day: susurrus: (suu-SUR-us), n. A soft, subdued sound; a whispering, murmuring, muttering, or rustling sound. ("The Soggy Blogger sometimes needs to smooth out the rough edges of her mind with the steady susurrus of her tennis shoes against the pavement.")

posted by Anne on 11:03 PM | link
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