Delor.es.Defacto

11/6/2008

07:16


So typing in a journal. I forgot I had that capability. I've just not written much of anything lately for and about myself. I kept thinking to, kept thinking I should start a new blog, get onto a new project but, alas, I have too many reasons to not. Old things tie you. You become so attached for so many reasons that it's easier to go along with what was then ditch it all for something new. Maybe I can have duel diaries; one for random, "this is what's going on" as D.D. is, and one for "this is really what's going on." I'd like that. I'd like it to be without hype and without promotion too. Just sitting there, waiting to be read by the random passer by.



But anyway, so what's going on? Okay, I'll write it down. I'll list it even since that's making things easier for me these days. I have to first mention that I'm quite down today too. I have this nagging feeling about the election; what the world wants generally isn't a good thing, as most people can agree. So it's scaring me to death at what's to come (though I know I shouldn't be.) And since I'm so in the minority on this, I won't say anything else about it. I just hope it really is the right thing.



So back to the list:



Librarian School still hasn't given me a thumbs up or down and I'd really like to know if I'm in because otherwise I need to send transcripts to other schools (not that I have the money for that anyway. It seems like my stakes have to be set in this school I'm awaiting a word on anyway.)


I have been offered a temporary full time job at the Cape. This means I have to give up teaching in the afternoons and try to manage just teaching at night at least until Christmas. Today I have to meet with the professor who is taking over for me then meet with the class and get them ready for the exam next week. Plus, I have papers to grade and turn back so I have to make sure everything is accounted for before I turn them over to someone else. I like the students there, I do, but teaching in the afternoons has been a bit of a pain. I leave in heavy 5 o'clock Orlando traffic and I'm starving and ready to go home, just to have the empty apartment waiting for me. But I digress...


So, the new job requires security. I've gone through all the security clearance hoopla (even having to report the statistics of my ex and not B.B. which I found odd) and about my traffic violations (I can't remember that stuff!) and the drug test (they tricked me and gave me a breathilizer too; good thing I didn't have a beer the night before!) That should be cleared, if they get ahold of everyone who I listed as friends, neighbors and co-workers, and they don't find any discrepancies in my file, in six to ten days. Next week, I'm hoping, will begin regular work.



11/10/2008

10:35


It's not even 11 in the morning and I'm already hungry and making pasta for lunch. Oh well.

I'm also forcing myself to grade papers and get things in order. I really should tally grades up too but, alas, I just want to be done with the class I'm dropping and go back to fiddling around with fun work for the class I'm keeping. I met with the new teacher last week, the one who is taking over for me in for the afternoon class. I am so grateful for him to take this class over and I'm glad the students are optimistic about him teaching them. I can't help but think how teachers are so stuck in their own ways and I'm wondering how this transition will go on Thursday. I keep thinking too, how the new teacher sort of gave me 20 questions about how and what I did things, even giving me the typical, "Well did you try this with them?" What was most "interesting" about the new teacher's suggestions is that I've taught for a longer time and {cough cough} have more experience under my belt. But, we all know how people love to be; oh, let me give you my advice and my input on something you never asked me to give you advice or imput about.



Anyway, I'm done with that after today too. (Unless said new teacher continues to ask me questions about it. I'll go as far as to mention that I'm a tender hearted gal and this is an older man so it's safe to say we both have vastly different approaches to teaching.)



So back to this pasta I'm cooking. I'm back on my diet after going to every fast food place in town. I've thankfully not gotten too big but, alas, I have to really watch my intake again. I'm hoping with the full time job and the regular schedule it will cut my food down to size once again. I will no longer be sitting around being bored at night and munching as a form of entertainment. (I have even resorted to food shopping as an activity of exercise and mental occupation in the wee hours of evening.)



I'm starting a different exercise routine as the treadmill in my local gym has been broken for, oh, 3 months now (at least). I started jogging a bit on Friday and while I could be doing the same today, I have these papers around me and the starvation making me ill at the moment, so instead I'm typing and waiting for my whole wheat rotini to boil for 15 minutes.



11/11/2008

10:50

I'll tell you what I'm sick of. I'm sick of stupid Firefox. I don't understand why its add-ons break the browser. I don't understand why some add-on toolbars show up whenever they feel like it. I don't understand why websites simply won't work in it sometimes. I don't understand why it lost its appeal so quickly just by being crummy. I don't understand how I can need, yet another browser, such as Chrome to combat Firefox's lack of performance. And I thought IE was bad. Sheesh.



Anyway, I'll put together this blog post today. It's been a while so I really should get cracking on it. I worked at school late last night so some work is done, but, alas, some work still needs to be completed. And no calls for my new job yet, no calls from Librarian School. Only random hang up calls from Unknown callers as usual.



Man, I'll be glad when I can work and get the credit monsters off my back, at least for a while.



12:31

No sooner did I write that when I was called for my new job. I start on Monday. Of course, thanks to my parents, I started getting that second guessing feeling of, "You know it's only temp work. You only get temp work, you never get regular work like everyone else..." Stupid thoughts. At least I can fight them off a lot easier now though.





Photo credit: LivingWilderness



http://www.deloresdefacto.com/?p=96

When I first started this blog, years ago in an after party of my own, late one night at my parents' house, setting up my LiveJournal account, I entitled my new world of internet wonder: "The Beginning is the End is the Beginning" (or was it the other way around? I forget.) Anyway, in all dramatic Billy Corgan fashion, I had started on a little endeavor that was without a real direction or purpose. Here, today, with the rain and sleepy gray feeling out town, I have past across an actual finish line.



I finished the work for my degree (insert fanfare here) and officially applied for graduation at my school. Seems the degree part won't be awarded until October 19th or something, but nonetheless, the workload is completed. After finishing those three, final, English literature classes back to back, one month at a time, I set my mind to finishing my thesis work (I had some piddly things that I had put off for months and I wrote each day in some sort of list or notebook; finish this, would ya?) I'm such a dumdum for not doing that stuff sooner but, alas, procrastination gets the better of me every time. It's the way I've always been and I honestly don't see any recourse from it only that it makes me feel guilty. Since guilt isn't something good and feeling condemned by something that you create in your head (or, as in my case, as people have told me to feel condemned about since I was old enough to sit in a school desk - something I tried to wiggle out of as much as possible) I don't see much need for concern. If it's not something that really matters when it gets done, then, sheesh, who cares?



Anyway, so now that all of it has been turned in and I'm awaiting my final grades to be put in, I've already been on some interviews for teaching jobs. Now, I've not worked for over a year now and I'm still awaiting financial aid to send me a scrap of cash (something they can't discuss until all the bills are paid - bills that include a $100 graduation fee. Oh no, I didn't make that up.) If this job I applied for yesterday works out, then I'll be able to start working next month, now that I have my degree. If I can't work then, more than likely after Christmas I'll have something.



However, now that my deadlines of school has finished, I feel out of sorts. Nothing to stress about that is in the means of productivity. Nothing to mark in my little day planner as an important date. Just me and the cat and the sound of the air conditioner running. (That broke during the last hurricane, by the way, and it took three attempts before the maintenance guys finally got the "small" leak repaired. Nice.) But while this stagnant feeling has taken over me, I see that it is an end to my last hurdle. When I started my work in the writing program it was because I was sitting at a desk in a public school, hating my job and stressing about it so badly that my body was eating at itself to create illness. I realized then, that teaching was something that tore me from my real love of writing and I wanted something for myself to work towards. Otherwise, each day was devoted to trying to stay in cohorts with the evil administrators and Lord knows that's just not part of the plan for anyone. So...online and upwards in education I went.



The funny thing is, now that I have the degree to get away from the horrible teaching days, I'm getting lulled back into it. Granted it makes sense that someone with an English degree and a Creative Writing degree would only be able to sit at her own desk and type away at a little machine, or go into a classroom and teach her wide range of knowledge just to keep herself in a home. But as I realized yesterday, being shown the new hopeful classroom (it has windows!) and given books (free books) and materials, and being introduced to people at the school, I got the distinct feeling that I was going to be able to head out for another change in my life. And yes, it freaks me out, but no, I'm not going to shy away from it. For starters, I need the money; that's obvious. For seconds, I need some new deadlines, goals, objectives and, hell, people to talk to in the physical form who are not close relatives. I couldn't stand most of the teachers I worked with and at the interviews I went to these past few months, I saw that negative, ready to strike, overly critical look in some of their eyes. But I also met some very nice ladies, like the one yesterday, who would be lovely to work for. Nice, friendly, chatty, helpful and polite. You can tell when things are right for you or when they are not. Some interviews I went to, I thought, "Oh hell, no, I'm not going through the kind of pain they're looking to dunk me into." But others I felt at ease sitting with them.



I have also realized that teaching is a bit too much of a social task for me. Granted, I don't know if I'll feel like this once I get into the college arena. I may love that. I know I loved college after I left the horrible high school years. I know I loved the university after I went through all the bull in my early years at the community college too. Without the regime of the state standards and the women who preserve it, I may have a much better time at the private school or at the community colleges. I'm not dismissing that possibility at all. However, I don't think I'm going to stay with that career move for long. For one thing, when I was at an interview last month, I was told that more than half of a college's staff is part-time and it's "extremely hard" to get full-time work over being an adjunct. My interviewer's advice, "Go back to teaching high school." Um...okay, no. Not unless I had a certificate and experience and full metal armor, would I go back into that arena. No, I wouldn't even go back even if they couldn't find some way to gossip about my faults; it's not worth it. You waste your whole life and never get to fulfill yourself. Not that helping people is bad and not that I didn't love working with the kids. I'll love working with the "kids", fresh outta high school hipsters who join my classes. But public school in Florida. Nope. Never again.



So my option for moving out of the education realm came across my mind earlier this year; to be a librarian. Now I don't recall exactly how I came up with this idea. I think I was looking around at education websites or career websites or something and I saw jobs for librarians. I started musing about the idea but never really mentioned it to anyone because, well, I'm tired of mentioning it to people who make some negative comment about what I say, just to give "advice", so I kept this and a lot of other things to myself. But anyway, so I started investigating what it takes to become a librarian saw that you only need a Master's Degree in Librarian and Information Science, so I started looking up potential online programs. Some of them were asking for high GRE scores which I never could get after attempting that test three times. (Even though, at the time, I still had that chip on my shoulder that has since dissolved) and some were just way too expensive. So I found a handful of schools that were reasonably priced and that had admission requirements that I could manage. I applied to some, got some professors to write me some letters of recommendation (I'm still waiting on three and the deadline is in two weeks - yay!), a letter stating why I'd be such a good librarian, and the money to pay for the application and transcript request fees. It's that money bit that gets me every time.



And that's all I can say right now about the outline of my life's events. These are the things that I chalk up to "professional" or "work" sense even though I'm really thinking about posting an actual website for my "real" me stuff (you know, use my real name, talk about my personal life, talk about my writing, lift the veil of half anonymity) and I will soon enough. There's more I need to write in a real sense instead of in an escapism sense. Still, escapism is the purpose for writing anyway so this here little bloggy will have to stick too.





Photo credit: florian.b



http://www.deloresdefacto.com/?p=93

I'm writing this month long awaited blog post here at almost 3AM. I care not to really get into any linkage or media savvy discussion because, as my picture indicates, I'm more apt to writing about, well, writing. So let's get to it, shall we?


I am almost done with my M.F.A. program. I'm happy and, at the same time, sort of meh...unfulfilled. I know that I took on this program for my own personal desire to work towards my heart's desire. I wanted to have deadlines and discussion and work done on my writing. When I took this program on last April, I was in the midst of my crappy workplace. So having something to glue me back to my sanity was necessary. And the program was taken on. Yay for me.


However, now I am wondering where I want to go from here. I'm at the much awaited cross roads in my life. (Huh, I wasn't intending on getting to this in my post this evening. But I guess it all is related.) The way I see it; I can write anywhere, by any means about anything. I can carry my legal pad or my spiral bound notebook out to the porch with my tea and write away. I could be anywhere and I could write a story or a journal entry or a poem (my new found, lovely thing to do right now -- even if I am drastically untalented in the art since I am no Dickinson or Whitman or W.C. Williams) and my life's purpose would be complete. I am still fervently convinced that my life has to be lead first and foremost and then my writing can echo it in a way to describe the pathways. It may be silly to say this but, yes, I want to "teach" the future readership of my little section of shelf at Borders one day that this is how things were for me and this is what I learned from it all.


But teaching, even after an interview at the community college, I'm not sure I can or will or want to still do it. (Although nothing tickles me the same way seeing a book about grammar sitting in my lap as someone leans over and discusses "curriculum" with me does. Aahh...) I still am thinking of going a different route in my educational realm since this English bit isn't really panning out. I even had a lady at another, separate interview, query to me, "Not to be disrespectful, but exactly why did you chose an English degree anyway?" I had to admit, "Because I love it." I mean, what other explanation can I give? I love books and I love writing. I never expected to be a millionaire, I always expected to sit at a desk and pour over facets of print media and write things in a little notebook, just as I did since as long as I can remember.


Anyway, so tonight I got some of what I was supposed to do tonight but I still have to work tomorrow. It is now 3:04AM and I was going to make an early morning tomorrow and head to the pool. Apparently not. I still have reading to do before I go to bed and I still have things to write; just for me. I can work anywhere, live anywhere and this is what will always be readily available. But as always I'm still behind in real progress. I will, however, it just takes me a while to get there. I am not so much envious anymore of all that people do because I know I have the potential and the ability in me to do all the things I want to do. Now I sort of just appreciate seeing what kinds of things are possible.



My other thing I wanted to mention was that my poor fishy has died. I noticed him looking a little sluggish and I kept trying to feed him and chat to him and encourage him to be okay but I guess two years for a fish is pretty good. He was the one that my friend at school last year gave me when her mother bought one each for our classrooms. The kids loved them but they did try to overfeed them or shake them to "see if they were dead." Very nice. I still remember when we had the hurricane that school year and I had to bring his big plant filled beta bowl in the car with me, to the apartment complex and up the stairs; very carefully. By the time we got back to school, once the hurricane passed, I figured there was no reason to subject him to further torture at the hands of middle school children, so I kept him in a little one gallon tank on the kitchen counter. And there he stayed until his toilet bowl funeral yesterday afternoon. Poor fishy.


So even though I'm working through all sorts of my past habits and lying them aside (ignoring the impulses and killing off all the bad thoughts, etc.) I still justified my impulse to get another fish. It was a nice, hot Sunday afternoon and I hadn't even left the house yesterday since my books kept me on the couch, at the computer, and on the porch for some fresh air -- still not out of the apartment. I reasoned that I needed some sunshine and fresh air, a ride, some music, a visit to my parents (Mom made chili; like I'm going to pass that up. Plus I got my letter from school about my financial aid; I have an email saying that my classes are paid for, yet a letter that says I still have an outstanding bill. Um...okay?) I then took a ride to get $10 worth of gas. Then went to Dollar General for $15 of: Cascade with Bleach, Purex laundry softener (cheap but it works), a stationary set ($2 and purple!), bottles of water and sugar free Bubble Yum (that is no where to be found anywhere except the Dollar Store it seems; that is my driving gum brand of choice because it is the only one that hold the capability of bubble blowing.)


Then I went to Petco. Now what I intended on getting was, say a couple of goldfish or angelfish or something that wouldn't have to be all by itself in my little tank. I know that Bruce dying was sad and it definitely ended a part of my past life for me and made me think about my classroom once again (also made me really think that I need to get on the ball and email my friend again and see how she is doing at school, however that may entail a social situation and I'll have to get to that later too.) I looked and looked at the store in the freshwater fish department. The lady working there assisted a middle aged lady and her daughter, then a mother with five or six (well behaved, mind you) children who were all getting fish for their aquarium. It was cute to hear them discuss with one another what their fish's names would be. However, it was not cute that I was never asked to be helped. I mean I mingled, I looked, I browsed, I even had a couple of aquarium supplies in my hand but nope, even as I looked around for the lady working there to come back, she never did. No one wanted to help the girl in the Halloween t-shirt. (It rules; it's orange with a big, black splashy painted raven on it.) Anyway, so since it was evident that no one was going to help me get a fish, I started realizing how much easier it would be to get a beta fish. I mean I had all the stuff for one and they are very, very easy to take care of. Plus, if I even did go anywhere (I still hold out hope!) putting a little feeder in there would be easy as pie, or even taking the little one gallon tank to have someone else feed him a couple times of day works fine. So I looked at the beta fish, already sad in their little plastic homes and I thought, "I should just rescue one of these guys and let them live in a nice, happy, aquarium in my kitchen." I love hearing the sound of the aquarium and I didn't want to put the silly tank away and not let it keep life in it as it should so, I found a fish! I was looking at a big, pretty medium blue fish but both Scott (my first beta who died quite a while ago) and Bruce were blue. I couldn't help but notice the little red guy who was sitting on the shelf staring straight at me. I kept thinking about the Velveteen Rabbit and how the toys on the shelf were sad when no one wanted to take them home. (They really shouldn't traumatize children with such ideas, especially those with overactive imaginations and a sensitive nature. I always think of things like that and feel bad for all of them. I always understood why Charlie Brown chose that little Christmas tree that needed a home the most. That's why I always choose the ones that are short and fat that no one else would really want. Sigh...) Anyway, so I picked up my new red fish and have named him Borges after the writer that I'm writing about for my class right now. (If my professor ever comes across this blog, I hope he feels quite proud that I chose this name.) I figured that Borges was Spanish speaking, the idea of red and bull-fighting came to mind and seemed like a suitable name; although I did research and discover that this is not a practice, apparently, in his homeland of Argentina. Sigh...oh well. The same is there so it shall stay. How else can I be expected to be a writer if I don't name my pets after literary figures or characters. (I still say the cat is named after Jacob Marley.)


I'm also very, very tired of my current situation. I never talk to anyone and I never want to go and do the same old things I use to do a while back. The club is just dead to me and I have no desire to go anymore. And when I did go out a while back I felt depressed for days afterwards. I've been getting like that lately when I'm out with people and feel like I just don't have any connection to any of it anymore. This has slowly been taking effect on my for a while and now I really see how I'm just over it where I am now. I am so ready for a change in this solitary little life.


And that's about it for this evening. It's now 4AM and I really should go grab my books and head to bed so I can get up at a hopeful decent hour and get back to work. Before I go for now (I'm sure my writing/education/unemployment topics will surface again soon; supposedly I'm getting that extension on unemployment like everyone else in the country!) I will leave you with one revelation that I made while working this evening. Sometimes typos are a good thing.


Love and Live are only one letter apart. You have to remove the "I", as in the selfish side of yourself, perhaps, to allow that center, that empty place in yourself to be filled. "I" can live, but "O" is the center, the core of love.




Photo credit: deloresdefacto




http://www.deloresdefacto.com/?p=89

I wrote this in my notebook as I was on my porch, smoking these old Camel lights that have been in one of my kitchen drawers for, oh a year now. I am like those stupid Become and EX commercials that talks about re-learning how to do certain things without cigarettes. For me, unfortunately, it's writing. I've tried to write an entry for a while about the internal stuff that's going on with me. There are some past actions and reaction, aside from writing without smoking, that I'm trying to unlearn.



Some months ago, I was lying in bed, wondering if I was going to be the girl who was always alone. Every past action indicated to that assumption. But I realized, that night, that it was me that was causing the empty bed and the lack of a friend-based relationship. I was alone because I had trained myself to believe that I was "supposed" to be alone. (What does that Interpol song say? "I'm sick of spending these lonely night, training myself not to care"?)

Now Lord knows that after having one guy say and do the worst, manipulative and dishonest things to me at a young age, when I thought that was all I could get, even thought I knew it was wrong, I was still hurt and discouraged. The idea of what "love" was to a man because a separate definition to what I defined the word to mean. Love meant calling me up, after tons of unanswered messages, telling me of his past conquests and hatred for my crying, even though "you know I still love you." So once I figured out that everything I believed in his words were empty, I went on to try the same routine with two other guys directly after my divorce. Each one turned around one day to say, "I don't understand what the big deal is" when they did something just as cruel. Hence, I became cemented in jealousy, anxiety, depression, guilt and disillusion.



And since those years long ago, I've sought after crushes who had the same kind of attitude towards me. They reeled me in, tossed me out, reeled me in, then berated me for having an emotional reactions to their inactions of care. Never once did I think I was choosing the wrong guys. Never once did it occur to me that I was setting myself up for failure on purpose because I didn't think I deserved anything else.



By being a single woman in my modern world, I have had plenty of firsthand experience on the long, arduous process of relationship discussions. We have books and movies and television shows and music and friends who all talk about men. We have to be "smart" girls. We can't put up with any man's crap. We have to (as Dr. Phil says) "teach people how to treat us." Men will do anything it takes to screw a woman over and we have to be on guard at all times. Basically, I have been fashioned into a bitch.

And since I have always been the one to be hurt, I never thought anything was my fault past not being beautiful, not being thin enough, not being like other girl who had husbands. I wasn't bitchy enough I supposed and Lord knows I got plenty of resentment in myself when I was called "bitter."

In the past month or so, something changed in me drastically. It was as if I finally saw myself on the inside and I found out that my past had been an excuse to carry a chip on my shoulder. I assumed all men were liars, cheaters, manipulators, skirt chasers and all-around jerks who delighted in nothing more than to push every button I had to make me crazy with anxiety and insecurity.

I started seeing that all this time, I was expecting people to say, "Oh, she's had it bad before, so she has a right to be distrusting." I had it said to me by women for years. I was set apart because I had this crappy past that I kept on call to use as a tool to week out any possible errors in a man's character that would potentially make him "just like the others."



But now I realize it's been me this whole time that's choosing to be bent out of shape over things that should be boxed up and buried. I am the one who accuses and assumes that every man is never going to be genuine or trustworthy or kind. So I set up fights and wait for an opportunity to pounce and say, "Ah ha! I knew it!" I lash out and keep myself "protected" instead of tearing down my wall that I took years to put up. I use to think, "I'll try with this (wrong) guy, but if it doesn't work (when I knew it wouldn't because he wasn't right for me), I'm putting another brick up and sealing myself off for good!" I wasn't going to be anyone's fool.



Nope, I've been my own fool all along. I saw mean and hurtful, unjust things. I get angry and jealous and worked up over nothing that is the actual truth -- I make up reasons to not try and let anyone in.



So unlearning all of this is what I've been trying to do recently. I realized that all of the things I have gone through is my reason for writing. I always figured that I'd be able to tell my future audience the things I learned along the way. What I wanted to write about is how I figured out, at age 32, that shutting the door in any man's face before they even try to know is anything but smart. I learned that it isn't that someone is going to have to save me from being hurt; I have to save myself from being someone to does the hurting. I've learned not to repeat my patterns, but to grow out of them and evolve.

I apologize for any rocks I may have kicked up as I tried to set myself on my path.



Photo credit: remotd



http://www.deloresdefacto.com/?p=88

I have to step up on my platform, and call all of my Orlando pals to hear my speech regarding our "City Beautiful".


I found a random slide show on Youtube entitled Downtown Orlando that depicts the daytime colors and buildings that we're all accustomed to, have grown familiar with and connect with as our place of "home." That's why when this wanker made the comment of, "don't go downtown at night . It's a very dangerous place" I had to take a stance.


While we have all discussed time and time again about how we miss our days at Cairo and our trips through Church Street, we still are trying to keep our night life and our culture alive. And I'm not just talking as far as music culture, I mean the "real" substance and history of Orlando.

But this guy, who lives in Windermere mind you, made comments about how only idiots go downtown and the only "culture" we have is tattoo parlors (incidentally, didn't they close that one down on Orange Avenue by the old Laser Tag place?)

So with this scare tactic mindset put in place, I had to retort by giving examples of what downtown is really about and how tourists are not going to be randomly shot while on Spring Break, trying to check out a club or a show on a Saturday night. I think what he's perceiving as downtown Orlando is the now defunct Church Street that we've all been moaning about for years now. That's something that hopefully will be renovated soon. Not that I have any interest in going down to any college pubs and watching naked women hand me a Jell-O shot, but, yes, we use to have a lot going on down there. But if you'll all recall, we also had the law passed that said the homeless were only allowed to stand on certain, marked areas of the sidewalk. The younger generation (as I was part of back then) was harassed by being pegged as a "gutter punk" who wanted nothing more than to loiter. After that happened we lost anything substantial on Wall Street Plaza and now we have the Cantina that targets, woo hoo, tourists.

By this man not living and being a real part of downtown Orlando for the past ten to fifteen years as I have, as everyone in town as been, the real essence of pride and home and culture and pride that we've been trying to support and promote time and time again, is being refuted by now putting fear into tourists minds that downtown is totally unsafe. Well, there's crime but there's crime in every city. That's common knowledge. Actually, the only time I had a problem with a break in of my car (and a handful of other people I knew who were targeted at the same time) was ten years ago when this nesnman guy is saying was safer. So much for what he knows.

I just wanted to send my opinions out to anyone in town who may read this and see what had gotten me so worked up about. All of us are trying to build up our town and to have someone say that only the theme park areas are "safe" just makes me irate. Unfortunately this is probably the opinion of many cash heavy snow birds who put money into big corporations and leave the smaller businesses to crumble. This is why we have lost so many clubs, restaurants, pubs and decent shows to the overly expensive Disney/Universal/MGM machine.

I've made a list of links and historical and cultural items that make up the real Orlando that we're proud to have thriving to this day. As I stated in my YouTube comment, "Walt would be appalled at what Disney has become these days."



Orlando is also home to the University of Central Florida, which is the second largest university in Florida in student enrollment and has the 6th largest enrollment in the nation.

Orlando is home to the Orlando Magic, an NBA pro basketball franchise that plays at Amway Arena in downtown Orlando. Led by Shaquille O'Neal, the Magic made it to the NBA Finals in 1995. Orlando's Amway Arena, opened in 1989 is already one of the oldest arenas in the NBA. It will be replaced around 2010 by the $480-million Orlando Events Center.

Orlando Public Library, the main downtown library of the Orange County Library System, which features 15 locations system wide. Situated on an entire city block in the heart of downtown Orlando, the library is an epicenter for arts and cultural events, educational and entertainment resources, and solitude.

The Kerouac House, in the College Park neighborhood of Orlando, is where writer Jack Kerouac lived during the time his novel On the Road was published and released, making him a national sensation and Beat Generation icon. He lived in the house with his mother Gabrielle from July 1957 to the spring of 1958, and wrote his three-act play, The Beat Generation, a 51-chorus poem called Orlando Blues, and the novel The Dharma Bums during his time there. In 1997, the Kerouac Project of Orlando formed, and restored the Kerouac house. It is now a haven for aspiring writers who can live in the house as they create their own work.

Eatonville is a town in Orange County, Florida, six miles north of Orlando. It was one of the first all-black towns to be formed after the Emancipation Proclamation in 1863 and, on August 15, 1887, was the first such town to be incorporated. Zora Neale Hurston grew up there. Every winter, Eatonville stages its annual Zora Neale Hurston Festival of the Arts and Humanities and the Zora Neal Hurston Library.

Harry P. Leu Gardens, which is an inner city oasis covering 50 acres (20,000 m²) and features colorful annuals, palms, an orchid house, a floral clock and a butterfly garden.

The Orlando Museum of Art is Orlando's largest modern art museum. Located in Loch Haven Park, the museum has ongoing exhibitions of American portraits and landscapes, American impressionist works, and art of the ancient Americas. In 2003, the museum hosted the world-renowned full exhibition of the famous glass sculptor, Dale Chihuly.

The Orlando Metropolitan Area is also home to a substantial theatre population. Several professional and semi-professional houses and many community theaters dot the area including Orlando-UCF Shakespeare Festival, Orlando Repertory Theatre (Central Florida's only Professional Theatre for Young Audiences), Orlando Theatre Project, Starlight Dinner Theatre, Mad Cow Theatre, Theatre Downtown, The Osceola Center for the Arts, Winter Park Playhouse, Theatre Winter Haven, IceHouse Theatre, and Seaside Music Theatre. Orlando also hosts the Orlando International Fringe Theater Festival every summer.



Church Street Station, a multi-level shopping mall and entertainment center that once featured an abundance of specialty shops, restaurants, nightclubs, and bars. Purchased in the late 1990s by TransContinental Talent owner Lou Pearlman, it is now virtually defunct, as the area suffered in post-9/11 tourist-industry slump. The area is being redeveloped with residential condominiums. Now closed due to bankruptcy and is due to be bought over.

Based on the Morgan Quitno Press "Safest and Most Dangerous Cities of 2007" rankings, Orlando ranks #11 nationaly. It's to be noted that the American Society of Criminology (ASC) and the FBI object to such rankings and use of data stating "These rankings represent an irresponsible misuse of the data and do groundless harm to many communities" and don't take into account "factors that influence crime in a particular study area such as population density and the degree of urbanization".



Orlando for Adults - The New York Times

Orlando Sentinel - Downtown Blog

Wikipedia - Downtown Orlando

Review Orlando



And, ironically or not in the news today:

Tourist Robbed At Hotel Near Disney



Photo credit: NY Times



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