Current mood: frenetic
This is not my life
It's just a fond farewell to a friend
It's not what I'm like
It's just a fond farewell to a friend
~ “A Fond Farewell” by Elliott Smith
I should have gone to the cemetery yesterday. I didn’t. I had plans to go; truly. I also didn’t send a letter to his parents. This is the first time in 18 years that I did not send them anything. It isn’t that I forgot. I didn’t. Most likely I will send one today or tomorrow. I just couldn’t seem to compose in my head what is permanently etched in my heart. I think it’s because I look at my friends; and it strikes me that most of them have given their parents grandchildren. They have created new life. I have no words of comfort which erase the fact that his parents will never share in the joys of marriage and birth with him. In fact, after 18 years, I don’t know that I have any words at all which have not already been said in one manner or another. Still, I use this week to remember the first boy I ever truly loved.
Never forgotten. I promise.
30 April 2009
27 April 2009
Loosen Up
Current Mood: Restless
And what you've made is good
I don't always thank you for the rough days and
the hard times in my life
Even though I should
~ “Jury Duty” by The O.C. Supertones
I am continuously being told that I need to loosen up. I always assumed that when people said that they were referring to my anal retentive attitude regarding most things. I am not necessarily Obsessive-Compulsive – but I do desire order in thought and action. I want total control over my own existence. I am a classic type-A Virgo, as I have said many times before now. Still, it turns out that I truly do need to loosen up. . .
My muscles and ligaments are excruciatingly tight. The Personal trainer at the gym has suggested that I roll on this horrible medieval torture device, commonly known as a foam roller. From what I understand, the pressure of the foam roller is supposed to massage out the knots in my muscle tissue, resulting in a looser, more structurally sound me. The thing effin hurts! Every moment I roll on it is a painful one. I don’t know how such a simple tube of foam can cause so much discomfort.
I get monthly massages thanks to a membership to ‘Massage Envy’. -- SIDE NOTE: I have referral cards that can get you a 60 minute massage for only39 dollars, if you care to try them out. END SIDE NOTE -- The masseuse ALWAYS comments on how knotted up my muscles are – especially in my neck and shoulders. I recently discovered that one of the primary reasons I am not able to perform a correct push-up is because the muscles in my shoulders and chest (I do not know the names of these muscles) are so tight that they are unable to do the full range of motion of a push up while supporting my body weight. Watching me do a pushup is a little like watching someone fall over and over again; but all you can do is laugh – not offer any assistance.
This past weekend I went to a hypnotist show. It was one of those comedians who ALSO hypnotize – and then the participants do ridiculous things for 30 minutes or so, for the amusement of the audience. I elected NOT to go up on stage. I am susceptible to hypnosis and I would rather laugh and watch the show than be a part of it. Plus, my brother was up there and I wanted to watch him get hypnotized.
They darkened the room and began the induction. I stared at the candle flickering on my table while the hypnotist did his magic on the participants. The rest is a blur – but based on eye-witness accounts, here is the gist of what happened. I fell off my booth, hit my head on the table, and then landed on the floor (which was a 3 foot drop). While on the floor, under the table, I followed the hypnotist’s suggestions until a bouncer pointed me out to the hypnotist who felt it a good idea to invite me on stage. The people I was with were more than happy to give the bouncer permission to escort me to the stage.
I vaguely remember being up on stage – but I wasn’t nervous or self-conscious. Honestly, I don’t know if I remember what happened or if my sister provided all the details to supplement my memory. Either way, I guess I was funny and the star of the show – because after, audience members kept coming up to me telling me what fun I was. I have been reassured that I did nothing too embarrassing and that I was actually very much myself up there – minus any real emotion. The hypnotist liked me, I guess, because he didn’t make fun of me like he did the others, according to my sister. Next time, I will do my best not to stare at the candle. My sister said he also gave me two suggestions which appear to be working. Those, I find very handy!!!!
Before I forget, if you have any good ‘get rich quick’ schemes that will not require too much work on my part, I am open to suggestions. I need to make an extra 100k before 2010. Here is where we will exercise a don’t ask, don’t tell policy. Thanks much!
PERSONAL NOTE: The past 4 months has been amazing. Thank you for that!
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: I wish I were wearing a white button-down Oxford right now!
And what you've made is good
I don't always thank you for the rough days and
the hard times in my life
Even though I should
~ “Jury Duty” by The O.C. Supertones
I am continuously being told that I need to loosen up. I always assumed that when people said that they were referring to my anal retentive attitude regarding most things. I am not necessarily Obsessive-Compulsive – but I do desire order in thought and action. I want total control over my own existence. I am a classic type-A Virgo, as I have said many times before now. Still, it turns out that I truly do need to loosen up. . .
My muscles and ligaments are excruciatingly tight. The Personal trainer at the gym has suggested that I roll on this horrible medieval torture device, commonly known as a foam roller. From what I understand, the pressure of the foam roller is supposed to massage out the knots in my muscle tissue, resulting in a looser, more structurally sound me. The thing effin hurts! Every moment I roll on it is a painful one. I don’t know how such a simple tube of foam can cause so much discomfort.
I get monthly massages thanks to a membership to ‘Massage Envy’. -- SIDE NOTE: I have referral cards that can get you a 60 minute massage for only39 dollars, if you care to try them out. END SIDE NOTE -- The masseuse ALWAYS comments on how knotted up my muscles are – especially in my neck and shoulders. I recently discovered that one of the primary reasons I am not able to perform a correct push-up is because the muscles in my shoulders and chest (I do not know the names of these muscles) are so tight that they are unable to do the full range of motion of a push up while supporting my body weight. Watching me do a pushup is a little like watching someone fall over and over again; but all you can do is laugh – not offer any assistance.
This past weekend I went to a hypnotist show. It was one of those comedians who ALSO hypnotize – and then the participants do ridiculous things for 30 minutes or so, for the amusement of the audience. I elected NOT to go up on stage. I am susceptible to hypnosis and I would rather laugh and watch the show than be a part of it. Plus, my brother was up there and I wanted to watch him get hypnotized.
They darkened the room and began the induction. I stared at the candle flickering on my table while the hypnotist did his magic on the participants. The rest is a blur – but based on eye-witness accounts, here is the gist of what happened. I fell off my booth, hit my head on the table, and then landed on the floor (which was a 3 foot drop). While on the floor, under the table, I followed the hypnotist’s suggestions until a bouncer pointed me out to the hypnotist who felt it a good idea to invite me on stage. The people I was with were more than happy to give the bouncer permission to escort me to the stage.
I vaguely remember being up on stage – but I wasn’t nervous or self-conscious. Honestly, I don’t know if I remember what happened or if my sister provided all the details to supplement my memory. Either way, I guess I was funny and the star of the show – because after, audience members kept coming up to me telling me what fun I was. I have been reassured that I did nothing too embarrassing and that I was actually very much myself up there – minus any real emotion. The hypnotist liked me, I guess, because he didn’t make fun of me like he did the others, according to my sister. Next time, I will do my best not to stare at the candle. My sister said he also gave me two suggestions which appear to be working. Those, I find very handy!!!!
Before I forget, if you have any good ‘get rich quick’ schemes that will not require too much work on my part, I am open to suggestions. I need to make an extra 100k before 2010. Here is where we will exercise a don’t ask, don’t tell policy. Thanks much!
PERSONAL NOTE: The past 4 months has been amazing. Thank you for that!
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: I wish I were wearing a white button-down Oxford right now!
23 April 2009
I Call Shenanigans on Today
Current Mood: Crabby Cakes
and I know words can be the worst to prevail
how it is I feel for you it's hard for me to say
but if we keep it simple I think it's better that way
tangled words tend to lead my messages astray
~ “By & By” by Brett Dennen
My day is off to a bad start. At one minute after midnight, I was unable to sleep, attempting to ignore the sensation that only the onset of a migraine can create. I focused on typing a necessary e-mail, while lying in bed with my laptop actually in my lap. Elizabeth was curled up next to me; but, she too, was restless and kept moving about in her sleep. Finally, around 2am, my eyes succumbed to the darkness that exhaustion brings about.
Imagine my surprise at 7:55am when my dad calls me on my cell phone, asking if I am going to work. Seriously, this must stop. Half of my room has lost the electricity it once had so my alarm clock, laptop cooler, sonicare toothbrush charger, and power strip no longer function. Bloody hell. I grabbed my clothes and changed as quickly as I could. While I appreciated my sister being in the kitchen waiting with a Toaster Strudel for me, I sense that she made it for herself but was just being loving my handing it to me.
While putting in my contacts I rinsed my left one with disinfectant instead of saline, resulting in an agonizing burning in my left eye. Of course, the damn eye slammed shut, not allowing me to remove the offending lens. I sprayed my eye with saline until it opened wide enough for me to pry the contact off my injured cornea. BLOODY HELL! I then ran back downstairs to find my glasses, which were under my bed, if you care to know, and sprinted to my car, already late for work.
Leaving the housing development, I almost got hit by a soccer mom in her mini-van speeding away from her car pool duties, I am sure. The interstate traffic was relatively light; but this didn’t seem to allow me to drive fast enough to make any real difference. Running into work, I broke the strap on my shoe, which now has a safety pin holding it together. My eye is still pink and uncomfortably tingly and my hair cannot be considered “brushed” by any stretch of the imagination.
I would ask what could possibly come next – but will refrain for fear that an answer is impatiently waiting to reveal itself. I now must go to a meeting that will resemble the trial in Alice and Wonderland. I know this because each week is a new installment of absurdity.
Tomorrow I am going to a comedy club with my brother and his friends for his birthday. The headliner is a hypnotist. I would like to be one of the people hypnotized. I need the distraction!
PERSONAL NOTE: Thanks for the health tips.
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: Solemn promises are nice. Thank you.
and I know words can be the worst to prevail
how it is I feel for you it's hard for me to say
but if we keep it simple I think it's better that way
tangled words tend to lead my messages astray
~ “By & By” by Brett Dennen
My day is off to a bad start. At one minute after midnight, I was unable to sleep, attempting to ignore the sensation that only the onset of a migraine can create. I focused on typing a necessary e-mail, while lying in bed with my laptop actually in my lap. Elizabeth was curled up next to me; but, she too, was restless and kept moving about in her sleep. Finally, around 2am, my eyes succumbed to the darkness that exhaustion brings about.
Imagine my surprise at 7:55am when my dad calls me on my cell phone, asking if I am going to work. Seriously, this must stop. Half of my room has lost the electricity it once had so my alarm clock, laptop cooler, sonicare toothbrush charger, and power strip no longer function. Bloody hell. I grabbed my clothes and changed as quickly as I could. While I appreciated my sister being in the kitchen waiting with a Toaster Strudel for me, I sense that she made it for herself but was just being loving my handing it to me.
While putting in my contacts I rinsed my left one with disinfectant instead of saline, resulting in an agonizing burning in my left eye. Of course, the damn eye slammed shut, not allowing me to remove the offending lens. I sprayed my eye with saline until it opened wide enough for me to pry the contact off my injured cornea. BLOODY HELL! I then ran back downstairs to find my glasses, which were under my bed, if you care to know, and sprinted to my car, already late for work.
Leaving the housing development, I almost got hit by a soccer mom in her mini-van speeding away from her car pool duties, I am sure. The interstate traffic was relatively light; but this didn’t seem to allow me to drive fast enough to make any real difference. Running into work, I broke the strap on my shoe, which now has a safety pin holding it together. My eye is still pink and uncomfortably tingly and my hair cannot be considered “brushed” by any stretch of the imagination.
I would ask what could possibly come next – but will refrain for fear that an answer is impatiently waiting to reveal itself. I now must go to a meeting that will resemble the trial in Alice and Wonderland. I know this because each week is a new installment of absurdity.
Tomorrow I am going to a comedy club with my brother and his friends for his birthday. The headliner is a hypnotist. I would like to be one of the people hypnotized. I need the distraction!
PERSONAL NOTE: Thanks for the health tips.
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: Solemn promises are nice. Thank you.
17 April 2009
A Tiger Doesn't Change Her Stripes, Rawr!!!
Current Mood: Apologetic
I am Human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does
There's a club, if you'd like to go
You could meet somebody who really loves you
~ “How Soon Is Now?” by The Smiths
I have a Magic 8 Ball on my desk at work. The girl who sits next to me has one on her desk as well. Hers is generally helpful and has a percentage of accuracy which impresses everyone. Mine is just as consistent . . . consistently mean, that is. I have a mean-spirited Magic 8 Ball. It always gives the mean answer – no matter what you ask it. It senses the asker’s deepest hopes and smashes them against the rocks of anguish. I warn people before they ask it a question. People don’t listen. They laugh off my warning and read the response, only to burst out in tears when they find out that the trip they had been planning will not happen or that the boyfriend will not propose EVER! It is inevitable that after being offended by my Magic 8 Ball, a person will move on to my co-worker’s desk where her Magic 8 ball will make nice, improving work relations and karma. Mine, on the other hand, exists solely to make people hate me. Grrrrrrrr.
Moving on. . . I walked into the house the other evening, after working at the studio. My parents were sitting together in the oversized chair, watching some crime drama (Law and Order”, maybe. I greeted them and prepared to walk downstairs when out of the blue Mi Madre says, “You’re not a cougar.”
*screeching brakes and an automobile crash echoed in my head*
I walked downstairs and attempted to replay, in my mind, the conversation in which I had just participated. It made my head hurt. Anyway, every woman deserves her own Ashton – just ask Demi Moore (but not my Magic 8 Ball, which clearly disagrees).
PERSONAL NOTE: I am sorry I hurt your feelings. My comment was thoughtless.
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: You are in my thoughts as you work things out, together!
I am Human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does
There's a club, if you'd like to go
You could meet somebody who really loves you
~ “How Soon Is Now?” by The Smiths
I have a Magic 8 Ball on my desk at work. The girl who sits next to me has one on her desk as well. Hers is generally helpful and has a percentage of accuracy which impresses everyone. Mine is just as consistent . . . consistently mean, that is. I have a mean-spirited Magic 8 Ball. It always gives the mean answer – no matter what you ask it. It senses the asker’s deepest hopes and smashes them against the rocks of anguish. I warn people before they ask it a question. People don’t listen. They laugh off my warning and read the response, only to burst out in tears when they find out that the trip they had been planning will not happen or that the boyfriend will not propose EVER! It is inevitable that after being offended by my Magic 8 Ball, a person will move on to my co-worker’s desk where her Magic 8 ball will make nice, improving work relations and karma. Mine, on the other hand, exists solely to make people hate me. Grrrrrrrr.
Moving on. . . I walked into the house the other evening, after working at the studio. My parents were sitting together in the oversized chair, watching some crime drama (Law and Order”, maybe. I greeted them and prepared to walk downstairs when out of the blue Mi Madre says, “You’re not a cougar.”
*screeching brakes and an automobile crash echoed in my head*
Me: “What did you just say?”
Mi Madre: “I said, ‘You’re not a cougar.’ Cougars are over 40. You’re not even close to 40. I think you are a leopard.”
Me: “Um, I know I am not a cougar. But what about a leopard?”
Mi Madre: “I was watching some show and it was talking about women who date younger men and that women in their 30’s are some other animal; but not a cougar. Like a leopard or a tiger . . . wait, that’s it, I think you are a tiger.”
Me: “A tiger?”
Mi Madre: “Yes, a tiger. They are nothing like cougars.”
Me: *staring blankly at my mother*
Mi Madre: “So, you don’t have to worry about it. No one thinks you are a cougar.”
Me: “Um, okay then. Thanks for that. And what is he then? A cub?”
Mi Madre: “I don’t think he has a name. Just you do – and it’s a tiger.”
Me: “Good night.”
Mi Madre: “Good night. Love you.”
I walked downstairs and attempted to replay, in my mind, the conversation in which I had just participated. It made my head hurt. Anyway, every woman deserves her own Ashton – just ask Demi Moore (but not my Magic 8 Ball, which clearly disagrees).
PERSONAL NOTE: I am sorry I hurt your feelings. My comment was thoughtless.
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: You are in my thoughts as you work things out, together!
13 April 2009
Stopped Counting at 42
Current Mood: smitten
When a person tries to kiss a girl
I know she aughta give his face a smack!
But as soon as someone kisses me
I somehow sorta want to kiss him back!
~ “I Cain't Say No” from 'Oklahoma' by Rodgers & Hammerstein
There is a lot to be said about kissing. As you may know, I kept a kissing spreadsheet until I was 22, documenting the name, age, location, and relationship status of every boy I ever kissed. My first kiss occurred when I was 14. It was May of 1991 and his name was Ben. Actually, I remember his full name; but to protect his identity, I will refrain from sharing it here. He was a soccer player and a year younger than me. He had brown hair, gorgeous eyes, and a smile that gave me flutter-byes. We met at an academic competition and he asked for my phone number. Then, on a Friday night, he and his friend came over to watch movies. Before they left, Ben stopped me in my living room, took both my hands in his, then leaned in and kissed me. His lips were soft and warm. The kiss lasted all of ten seconds. As far as first kisses go, it was perfect; and I hold kissing up to the standards set by the one I received that night. I don't know that I ever saw Ben again, after that night. My life was quite chaotic at that point - and my memories are blurred. I did, however, see mention of him over the next 4 years in the newspaper, as he was quite the athlete. I actually saw his marriage announcement in the newspaper several years back. He and his bride made an attractive couple. Per the newspaper, they live in Austin, TX. I am positive that he wouldn't remember me or our kiss. I'm okay with that.
I have had a few bad kisses as well. I'd like to think that they were caused by a lack of talent on the other person's side and not through any fault of my own. I mean, kissing is pretty subjective - but I like to think that on a scale of 1 - 10, I am close to a 9 on the kissing scale. I brush my teeth, keep my lips exfoliated and moisturized, and I never slobber all over the person I am kissing. If you have to wipe spit off your face after kissing someone, then you shouldn't be kissing that person.
I must admit that a large handful of kisses in which I have participated occurred when I was a little under the influence. In college, if I'd been drinking, someone was getting kissed. Usually, I didn't care who was present or where I was. I remember one party where I was sitting on the kitchen counter and saw a cute boy talking to one of his friends. Using my leg, I pulled him over to me and locked lips with him. Luckily, he didn't seem to mind - there are ten minutes of my life that would never have occurred if not for Mad Dog 20/20 . This habit has followed me into adulthood - though now, I am not generally the instigator. My friends do make fun of me, however, for getting kissed at the bar. I am talking random kissing - not pre-meditated. I will be talking to someone and they will just lean in and start kissing me. Completely unexpected - and for the most part, 100% unsolicited. I must look like someone who won't slap you if your mouth happens to come close to mine. Before you start to judge - these kisses have been witnessed and truly are unsolicited.
With discipline, and conscious effort, I have avoided such kisses in 2009. I found an incentive program that cannot be ignored!
PERSONAL NOTE: Hope that baby girl isn't kicking too hard! Cannot wait until she makes her appearance in the world!!!
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: I slipped on a kiss and tumbled into love!
When a person tries to kiss a girl
I know she aughta give his face a smack!
But as soon as someone kisses me
I somehow sorta want to kiss him back!
~ “I Cain't Say No” from 'Oklahoma' by Rodgers & Hammerstein
There is a lot to be said about kissing. As you may know, I kept a kissing spreadsheet until I was 22, documenting the name, age, location, and relationship status of every boy I ever kissed. My first kiss occurred when I was 14. It was May of 1991 and his name was Ben. Actually, I remember his full name; but to protect his identity, I will refrain from sharing it here. He was a soccer player and a year younger than me. He had brown hair, gorgeous eyes, and a smile that gave me flutter-byes. We met at an academic competition and he asked for my phone number. Then, on a Friday night, he and his friend came over to watch movies. Before they left, Ben stopped me in my living room, took both my hands in his, then leaned in and kissed me. His lips were soft and warm. The kiss lasted all of ten seconds. As far as first kisses go, it was perfect; and I hold kissing up to the standards set by the one I received that night. I don't know that I ever saw Ben again, after that night. My life was quite chaotic at that point - and my memories are blurred. I did, however, see mention of him over the next 4 years in the newspaper, as he was quite the athlete. I actually saw his marriage announcement in the newspaper several years back. He and his bride made an attractive couple. Per the newspaper, they live in Austin, TX. I am positive that he wouldn't remember me or our kiss. I'm okay with that.
I have had a few bad kisses as well. I'd like to think that they were caused by a lack of talent on the other person's side and not through any fault of my own. I mean, kissing is pretty subjective - but I like to think that on a scale of 1 - 10, I am close to a 9 on the kissing scale. I brush my teeth, keep my lips exfoliated and moisturized, and I never slobber all over the person I am kissing. If you have to wipe spit off your face after kissing someone, then you shouldn't be kissing that person.
I must admit that a large handful of kisses in which I have participated occurred when I was a little under the influence. In college, if I'd been drinking, someone was getting kissed. Usually, I didn't care who was present or where I was. I remember one party where I was sitting on the kitchen counter and saw a cute boy talking to one of his friends. Using my leg, I pulled him over to me and locked lips with him. Luckily, he didn't seem to mind - there are ten minutes of my life that would never have occurred if not for Mad Dog 20/20 . This habit has followed me into adulthood - though now, I am not generally the instigator. My friends do make fun of me, however, for getting kissed at the bar. I am talking random kissing - not pre-meditated. I will be talking to someone and they will just lean in and start kissing me. Completely unexpected - and for the most part, 100% unsolicited. I must look like someone who won't slap you if your mouth happens to come close to mine. Before you start to judge - these kisses have been witnessed and truly are unsolicited.
With discipline, and conscious effort, I have avoided such kisses in 2009. I found an incentive program that cannot be ignored!
PERSONAL NOTE: Hope that baby girl isn't kicking too hard! Cannot wait until she makes her appearance in the world!!!
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: I slipped on a kiss and tumbled into love!
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