We can ride out in the darkness
Chasing the rising sun
We’ve got to pack our bags this instant
We’re heading Southbound to the next town
And if we arrive there so safely
Baby, you can lay me down.
~ “Lay Me Down” by Dirty Heads feat. Rome
How long has it been since I wrote something for your eyes? For public eyes at all, actually? Some of you know that I had another blog and that it was very different from this one. Well, I haven’t written in that one either. In fact, besides my HistoryinaFlash tweets, I have written very little. Even my letter-writing and card sending has gone to the wayside. Let me tell you, going to school and working full time and helping at the studio makes a girl tired. I use the word “girl” loosely, as my 35 year-old brain and body are rebelling against me on a daily basis. If not for a smart phone and a daily planner, I would be lost, wandering around the park wondering where I am supposed to actually be.
So much has happened since I last posted that it would be pointless to attempt to “fill you in”. Perhaps I can do it in 40 characters or less, like my history tweets. I shall try. . .
School; Work; Opera Guild; Detroit 3-day; TX; Toronto; AZx2; Girl Twin visit; online dating (don’t ask); time passed – not in that order!!Gee, that was easier than I thought. I am sure I missed some things, but good enough. My dear friend, “OhioGenius”, sent me a new journal for my birthday. It is called “My Dysfunctions” and it is a hilarious, low pressure, journal that is supposed to inspire me to write about the things that make my life dysfunctional. I have written two pages. It is because I seem to have lost my muse. Beginning today, I will force myself to write on a page a day, even if it is to write the alphabet or song lyrics or the objects I see in the room. I have to do something to get my writing jumpstarted. And I am anti-electric shock therapy, as it will make my memory worse, not better.
A closing anecdote before I go for your amusement. Last night, “KatarinaSister” and I went to see the Blondie show. While there, we were privileged to stand behi nd two ladies, in their early 30s, I imagine, who are so amazing and sacred that they refuse to be touched at a concert, standing two feet from the front barricade. Every time someone touched them, they would give dirty looks and then complain to one another that they were getting jostled. Now, I realize concert goers in the Midwest do NOT like to be touched and it is often easy to move forward merely by pressing your arm against someone until they move out of self-preservation. These girls were over the top, though.
So, I did what any self-respecting general admission, floor navigating, concert guru would do. I kept as close to them as I possibly could. Their passive-aggressive behavior gave me such amusement that I had no issues jumping up and down and bumping them with my arms every chance I could. My sister nicknamed one “Quantum5” due to her darling spiral perm. Well, “Q5” really disliked me being behind her, so she moved so I could be almost beside her, which was so much better. LOL I waited for them to actually say anything to me so I could politely inform them that standard concert front row etiquette is that if you don’t want people touching you, then you need to move to the seats instead of taking up valuable real estate on the floor. I also wanted to whip out my “got within 5 feet of Trent Reznor at a NIN show in flip-flops” story. Unfortunately, they said nothing, so I could just gloat in my head. Go me!
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: I don’t know what I am doing . . . but I hope it is working.
