Your blog name is disturbing. Why’d you pick it? Nina, Tallahassee

Yeah, about that. I figured someone might be curious, so I’ll answer myse–I mean, Nina.

I recall reading a bunch of blogs years ago and figured by now the movement would be over, and whatever needed to be said had been by people much smarter and wittier than I. I’d also seen absurd blogs: those that duplicated other blogs’ material, others that were overrun with sparkly bling or heavy, obnoxious ad content that made reading articles or comments nearly impossible. Mostly, I found blogs that started off okay and then were simply abandoned with no good-bye, no plans for future writing or anything communicated to the writer’s audience–the blogger wrote a piece on a Wednesday night in 2004 and was never heard from again. I never wanted to be the person to disappear from her own site without a heads-up, rant idiotically about (near) fictional characters (show me a Duggar’s back and I’ll prove there’s a battery back there), or clutter a page with children’s poetry written by a 40-year-old man or pictures of dead pets covered in rainbows, I don’t know, there’s sick crap on the Web.

As I mentioned, I really like Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird, and Stephen King’s On Writing is another I recommend as a must-read for someone writing or intending to write. It’s a memoir on his writing: how he started, his numerous failures, and how he more or less stumbled into success. Long story short, the best writers generally give the same advice: find a designated writing place to write. Create in a calm, relaxing space (some choose absolute silence; I need a bit of white noise, usually a show I have no interest in on TV). Most importantly, write as much as possible–every day if you can, for at least 30-60 minutes a day.

Deaf men take smiling very, very seriously.

Good morning to the two people reading my blog! Now that I’m a blog administrator, it’s sick how many statistics I have access to. I feel compelled to write if only to see charts & graphs go up and down. It’s wild.

Soooo, this is a real-life, only-in-New-York, possibly only-to-me kinda story. I didn’t even process it until the day after, it was so bizarre.

The details: Although I’ve given up caffeine in general, I get decaf occasionally, especially around the holidays. You show me someone who can resist pumpkin, gingerbread, cinnamon AND peppermint mocha? And I will call that person a liar on their Facebook page, logged in as you.

Back to Dunkin Donuts, the only chain where something like this could go down. I walked in to the 14th Street location, and there’s a Spanish family and a large black man standing around a table. I asked quickly if they were on line and no one responded, so I walked on to the register and was greeted almost immediately by the cashier. Just as immediately, the hulking man was almost on top of me, making huge hand motions, some around his face, where he attempted a growling noise. The cashier and female customer behind me were silent, watching this strange bit of theater play out. Just before he left he sent me an unmistakable “Eff you” with one fist in the crook of his other arm, and rushed out.