One of my favorite things to do when I have time to kill is "randomly surf the web".  I start at yahoo.com, usually click on a news story, that might lead me to a website link, which might lead me to someone's interesting blog.  I always find thought-provoking and intriguing content when I do this, and it can kill hours of time.

Sometimes, instead of finding content and information that I enjoy, I find some that bothers me - riles me up, so to speak.  This morning, when I came upon the article Is white skin more "beautiful?" on Shine's Fashion + Beauty section, I felt that discomforting anger rising to the surface.

Whenever I see women being told that to be "this" or be "that" will then make them "beautiful", I get upset.  Where are the ads promoting beauty as is?  Where are the commercials telling young women that their unique "imperfections" and different physical appearance are what make them beautiful and special?

I have heard of the phenomenon in Japan and India of women yearning for lighter skin...to be more "white".  It astounds me, as I believe darkened skin - of any shade - is simply beautiful.  White women spend great amounts of money and time to darken their skin through tanning and products.  I suppose it's the age-old struggle of wanting what you don't have.  Lighter skin people wish they were darker; darker skinned people wish they were lighter.

However, I still am bothered by the Ponds 5-part commercial series that implies the man only went back to his first and true love after she lightened her skin; becoming more light-skinned than the glamorous starlet he was dating.  Ponds obviously has a market for its Flawless White product line, but should they really be playing into women's insecurities this way?

I know that all beauty products, and the media used to promote them, play up a woman's perceived "flaw" with promises to cure and fix it; it's the nature of the beast.  Still, there is just something a little more disturbing here - perhaps its, as the original article stated, ...when it comes to altering the color of one's skin, when does aesthetic become racism?

Aesthetic racism - now there's a term, and I suppose, in a way, that is what you might call it.  It's not that those desiring lighter skin are necessarily racists, but isn't telling them that they will be more desirable and worthy if they change their skin tone so?

Perhaps it's all a big hoax.  I don't know - the whole thing just leaves me feeling uncomfortable - I keep waiting for someone to say, "It's a joke!  Ponds doesn't really have any such product - it's all a big hoax!"  It has that kind of feel about it.

Regardless, though, it draws attention to the fact that people still - to this day - feel inferior because of the pigment of their skin, and that saddens me.

I'll preface this newsworthy-bit of stupidty with a quick explanation, for those not in the know...

A Fuelman card is one used by companies that have field personnel, delivery people, fleet drivers, or the like on roadways for gas purchases.  The gas card allows companies to keep up with employees' fueling and gives them a way to pay a set monthly fee for gas usage.

That being said, let me introduce you to a local man by the name of James Cotton.  I'm unaware how long Mr. Cotton, aged forty-three years, has been an employee of Mockler Beverage but what is apparent is that somewhere in the past couple of weeks, he believed he had stumbled upon a sure proof way to garner some extra cash-on-the-side for himself.

Being the resourceful man he obviously is, and realizing the hurt the high gas prices are having on people's pocketbooks, Mr. Cotton realized he was in a position to help ease the locals' gas woes while padding his own pocketbook.

By now, I'd imagine, you do realize where this is going.

Yes, for reasons unknown to the more sensible members of the population, Mr. Cotton seemed unaware that his employer could or would keep tabs on his gas-spending purchases.  Though it seems hard to fathom that even such an astute individual as Mr. Cotton has proven himself to be here could not have had an inkling that the company's accountants might notice $7,000 in charges to his company-issued Fuelman card; even moreso considering those charges were accrued within only a two week period.

Mr. Cotton, it seems, was selling gas to other people - on the company's dollar.  Perhaps he thought the Fuelman card was simply a "free gas" card?  Perhaps he believed it was not monitored?  Perhaps he didn't think at all.

Something tells me the latter may be the correct answer.

Original article: Man arrested for allegedly misuing company fuel card, WAFB Channel 9, Baton Rouge.

You guys are going to hate me.  Seriously.

I tried - for my Mom's sake I think more than anything.  No, no; that sounds like I'm putting it on her and it was fully my decision.  I was trying to "clean up" the blog - less cursing, more positive crap, and all of that (I thought) coincided with a more sophisticated and "pretty" blog layout and domain name/blog title.  I was wrong.  I have tried - oh gods I have tried - to fall in love with this layout and this name (La Vie Sans Limites); I cannot.

Don't get me wrong; this is a gorgeous layout; one of the prettiest I've ever seen or used.  And the name - which is French for "A Life Without Limits" - describes me and "works" in it's own way.  True, too, it got rid of that rather juvenile name "Sunshine and Farts" (which, in case you haven't figured out, my mother hated).  I was really trying to branch out and embrace a new, more positive, less cynical worldview and writing style.

Yet the more I looked at La Vie Sans Limites, the more I longed for Sunshine and Farts, and the more I gazed upon the lovely Forever Autumn layout theme, the more I pined for my carefully customized Sweetness theme.

When I bitch and gripe on the pretty blog with the sophisticated name, I feel...sort of malapropos.  It doesn't feel right.

Another point to bring up.  What's a more memorable blog title?  La Vie Sans Limites or Sunshine & Farts; come on, it's no contest.  My sister told me she has to keep laviesanslimites.com bookmarked to get to it - whereas she could always just type in sunshineandfarts.com; she remembered that.  And isn't that the goal of every blogger - to have a memorable name/domain name so that people can easily find and remember you?  Touche.

So here it is...I'm back.  I'm sorry, Mom; I did try.  But let's face it - I'm more a Sunshine and Farty kind of gal than a ooh-la-la Frenchy one.  To me, Sunshine & Farts sort of represtend my entire life - it's ups and downs, its stinky moments and its laughable ones; the joys and the sorrows, the highs and lows.  I realize that's a lot of emphasis to put on such a phrase, but there it is.

It's also a quote directly from one of the absolutely most amazing shows on television today; one that pinballs from being devishly cleverly cynical to embracing brilliantly hilarious buffoonery - Family Guy.  I'm not ashamed to admit I own every single season on DVD, as well as Family Guy Presents Stewie Griffin: The Untold Story, and the special edition DVD-set of Blue Harvest.

The quote comes from Stewie Griffin in a scene where he is being interviewed by Bill Cosby for a spin-off on Kids Say the Darndest Things.

Bill Cosby: Stewie, what do you think candy is made out of?
Stewie Griffin: Sunshine and farts! What the hell kind of question is that?!

I laughed my ass off when I heard it and, later, thought it was just a hilarious and fun name that - as I said above - sort of represented me and this wild, wacky, often uconventional blog.

So there it is.  Hopefully this is the last change.  sunshineandfarts.com still works, always has - so you may resort back to that when ready.  The lavissanlimites.com will work 'til it expires sometime next year.

I apologize, but it had to be done.

When the pain-wrought screams of 52 year-old Los Angeles traffic cop Macrida Patterson rang out on a clear summer day, no one could have imagined the horror of what was to come.

It was on that day - what started out as a normal day, like any other - that Macrida, while getting dressed, suffered the injury. It was something no one should ever have to endure (because their friends would laugh at them).

Let's rewind. Thirty-five years ago; Christmas 1973. Seventeen year-old Macrida wants one thing and one thing only on that warm Los Angeles holiday.

Her voice rang out clear and sharp in the balmy air, "I want an Authentic Maidenform Precious Little® Size 8 Pink-Striped with Purple Rhinestone Hearts Signature Bra!"

"Kid," her mother said, her hands full of sudsy soap as she looked away from the pile of dishes in the sink, "You'll shoot your eye out."

Macrida didn't get a rhinestone-studded bra that Christmas; a fact she has made up for in her adult life. Macrida does, and always has, loved the bling on her undergarments. It was this very bling that - as Macrida's mother once prophesied - put her eye out, and brought Macrida and her story into the national spotlight.

Recently, as Macrida was pulling her rhinestone-bestudded thong panties up her legs, it happened. The sparkly gem affixed to her thong panties popped off and traveled - at a high rate of speed - right toward Macrida's eye. Indeed; her panties had put her eye out.

Through the horrible pain, and as an emergency room doctor dabbed topical steroid's onto her cornea, Macrida had a vision....someone would pay for this pain and suffering, for this non-surgical procedure she was enduring, for the fact that she would now have to buy a new pair of underwear; Macrida would sue.

Victoria's Secret, maker of the eye-injuring thong panties, is the target for Macrida and lawyer Jason Buccat's frivolous lawsuit. Forgoing national humiliation, Macrida and Jason have appeared on the Today show and appealed to numerous media outlets so that Macrida's story may be heard.

I suppose it's too late to have wished the broken staple had flown to her throat and severed her jugular, hm?

I love to read - I grew up in a house full of books reared by parents who also loved books. My Mother often spoke to me of books I was yet too young to read; classics I yearned to peruse myself.

I was over-eager to begin the process of learning to read, which I knew would then result in learning to write myself. I remember in the earliest of grade schools patiently learning what I was being taught all the while wishing they would hurry up and begin teaching us to read. Oddly, as I remember very little of my school years (by choice as they were not pleasant), I remember this very vividly.

I knew some already in the world words and reading; my grandmother - my Mo-Mo Dot - spent hours teaching me words in books and helping me learn the words of the alphabet with plastic, magnetic letters. I intensely gobbed up everything she taught me; always eager to learn more. I dreamed of the day I could read books on my own! I imagined what it would be like to see a page of letters and be able to decipher it - and then, oh joy!, - I might even be able to write my own words and stories! I teemed with excitement at the prospect; I longed for the day that I was old enough to begin the full "learning to read and write" ritual.

I began my schooling at a small local, school house that was, actually, a little red building just beneath the levee that ran through Maringouin. My teacher was Fawn Courville, and her daughter, Elizabeth - my age and also enrolled that year - became my childhood best friend. Oh, I enjoyed school so! Yet I always felt disappointed at the progress...when, I wondered, would we begin to learn to read books. Yet the year continued on as we apprenticed in letters and basic words, not yet learning how to string them together.

I remember beginning "real" school, in 1982, at False River Academy; a kindergartner. I was disappointed to learn we would not begin learning to truly read or write - in the fashion I was after - until First Grade. Always, it was one step away! I carried on, though, knowing it was in the immediate future...knowing I would soon be gifted with beautiful blessing of reading and writing.

Oh, the world would completely open up for me then! Nothing I longed to know would be kept from me...I would read it with my own eyes or write about it in my own words. I hungered for this with a desire I have never since felt; me, all of five years old and knowing this yearning even younger than that.

Eventually, it came - I devoured the teachings; as excited as any child possibly ever was at learning such. It began a lifetime of reading and writing that - though it may have paused at times over the years - has never truly dimmed or halted. I love to read. I love to write. I enjoy perusing dictionaries and thesauri, I thrill at learning new words, and I own more books than I shall ever be able to truly read (and continue to buy more). My adult home is filled with books of others' writings and notebooks, sheaves of paper, napkins, hard disks, flash cards, floppies and CDs of my own words. Even my virtual home in Second Life® - as the avatar Isadora Graves - is filled with piles of books on the floor and on desks. I cannot imagine a life - real or virtual - not surrounded by books or filled with the joy of words.

Words are power that can convey knowledge. Words can hurt or help; they can start wars and end them. They can incite laughter or bring tears. They can move people to action or incite rapture in their hearts. They can be base and vulgar or they be ecclesiastical and revered. They are raw emotion and feelings brought to life and made tangible. They give us a voice as they are a vehicle for communication and self-expression. Words are mind and matter made manifest. In the beginning was The Word - thought was manifest into matter.

My passion for the written and spoken word and everything in between has been a constant in my topsy-turvy life; it is the core of who I am. I write, therefore I am could be my mantra of sElf. I believe all writers - professional, aspiring, natural-born, and self-taught - have this burning passion at their core. They may even outwardly hate words and the difficulty it takes to form them into something meaningful; yet, deep down, hate is only another passionate form of love for they know that without those little syllabled semantics we could not write and express the beauty of internal thoughts and dreams.

Words help us express to the waking world who we are and what we think - be it written or spoken. Perhaps everyone's mantra could, therefore, be - I think therefore I am, I write & speak therefore I am known.

Shanna

I love my name.

My mother blessed me with not only a beautiful and unique name, but with a name taken straight from the cover of a book; I can think of no greater gift a bookworm of a mother can betroth to her writer-bookworm of a daughter.

And in case you were wondering, since I've heard it pronounced a myriad of ways, mine sounds like "Anna".

THE Shanna & Those Other Shannas

I've always had this wild, unrealistic dream of being the top Shanna on the web - as in, the Shanna that is the #1 result when you type "shanna" into Google's search bar.

I'm fully aware this isn't possible (thanks, Ms. Moakler), though I have daydreamed of at least showing up on the first page of search results. Hey, it could happen.

I was always keeping tabs on the high-ranking Shannas - wondering how they did it. Honestly, when I was bored, I'd surf on over to google.com and search for "shanna" and see who was where and if anyone had moved (funny what amuses you when you're bored at work).

I got to know these Shannas, and watched with interest as they pin-palled up and down the search result ranks:

Bellydancing Shanna has been a top contender for years, usually trading back-and-forth spots with Country Singer Shanna and all of the other writing Shannas (yes, I'm not nearly the only one...in fact, most online Shannas are writers; perhaps the first time in my life I've been in a majority!) There's infamous Chick Lit Shanna (Ms. Swendson), as well as less known but often higher ranking Freelance-Writer Shanna and Published-Writer Shanna (Ms. Compton & Ms. Germain, respectively, who I am both highly respectful and insanely envious of). There's a Painter Shanna that's been there for awhile, and has pretty much taken up permanent residence on page 2.

Floating around in the first 5 pages (still a damn good place to be, imo) is, also, Photographer Shanna, Indie Rocker Shanna, Blogging Shanna, Artist Shanna, Bicycling Shanna, and Crafty Shanna. And let's not forget Dr. Shanna!

I'd say I 'm in pretty good company. Shannas seem to be, overall, pretty damn smart, creative ladies (the ones online, anyway). There are plenty of other Shannas online - other websites and quite a few social-networking profiles linked to a Shanna.

This Shanna's Story

So how are these Shannas - some that have been online not nearly as long as I - so high up in the Google ranks? How come I, who has been active online with a personal website since 1997, am nowhere near the high rank these newer Shannas have?

When I initially came online and started to establish a web presence, I made the mistake of not using my first name as my main identifier. My first Geocities and Yahoo! accounts (later combined) were as "vamp_lynx", and my first website was geocities.com/vamp_lynx. Though I said on the site that my name was Shanna, that wasn't enough to shoot me to the top of any search engine, much less even be noticed by them. My random, oft-changing website names rarely used my first name either - as most of my long-time fans will remember.

When I finally made the decision to purchase my own domain name, I wanted a unique identifier; something that would make me stand out online. I could've named my website, for example, "Slightly Off Kilter" and bought the according domain name (slightlyoffkilter.com). Yet, that was not unique. Someone searching for "kilter" wouldn't land on my site; even someone searching for "off kilter" probably wouldn't.

After much ardous inner debate, I decided upon the Greek word skatoulaki, which means "little shithead". It wasn't widely used online yet and was just unique enough to be a blanket identifier for all of my online work.

However, when I tried to use skatoulaki as my user name for some websites, it was sometimes taken. I then decided, to change the spelling up a little (something I hardly ever do) to make it more unique and easier to spell; thus, skatoolaki was born.

The unique identifer paid off - any and everything listed online under "skatoolaki" is my work; of which I'm quite proud.

This was great for establishing a unique, online persona. It was not so great for establishing myself as a known Shanna on the web.

Though I later bought shannariley.com to house all of my writing, my fate appears to have been sealed. I have not, despite now having shanna-ish domain names (shannariley.com and even shanna.ws), been able to climb the Google ranks.

I suppose you can list me, then, as the Unknown Shanna ☺.

I moved this blog over from Blogger to WordPress in March 2006 and it has taken me that long to finish fixing the old posts. Today, I am happy to report, it is done.

I did not use titles on blog posts on my blog, then named anima, when it was on Blogger. So when everything was deposited here on WordPress, those untitled posts just got slapped with a bunch of random numbers for names (like 107373855855). Blogger also didn't use nifty categories like WordPress does, so everything ended up being organized as "Uncategorized".

I always said I'd go and title and categorize those old posts - one day. Finally, I have - it took about two days of sitting down and just plugging away at it when I had time, but it is done. It makes the whole blog more "searchable" and readable.

I'm just pleased as punch.