Well We Both Know That’s Not Been So

current state of mind: inspired

Yeah, I was in the dark

I was falling hard

With an open heart

How did I read the stars so wrong?

~ “Wide Awake” by Katy Perry

I know that I have some OCD tendencies. It’s cool! For example, right now, I am looking at the lyrics from the song above and I desperately want to change the word “wrong” to “wrongly”. One cannot read something “wrong”. Alas, this is the song that was playing when I began writing, so I cannot go back and change it, no matter how bad(ly) I want to do so. Hopefully this disclosure will justify why I will seem distracted throughout this post. Grrrr for bad grammar! Woe is I . . . or Woe is Me . . . hmmmm!?!?!?!

Elizabeth, the Dog Wonder, is almost 12 years old. We celebrate her birthday in July. She is still quite spry for her age. The other night she caught her first documented rabbit of the season. I am happy I wasn’t around to see the carnage (or hear the attack), because rabbits sound like screaming banshees when being mauled. My understanding of the situation, as it was relayed to me by a first hand observer, is that the rabbit was not only dead; but really, really dead. Pretzel, Ebie’s best friend, had a lucky rabbit’s foot to prove it.

None of this would have any effect on me, except, Elizabeth almost killed me with her bad gas last night. I blame the rabbit. It’s no laughing matter when your dog verbally sighs and groans every time she let’s one rip. Good gourd! I would invite her to go outside; but, even after she did her business the gas wouldn’t stop. It was horrible. At bed time I kindly informed her that her dog bed would be moving to the end of the bed until the situation was under control. Of course, she was none-to-happy about this latest change of venue. I was unrelenting. I had to be. . . I did not want to asphyxiate during the night. When the alarm clock awakened me, Ebie was soundly sleeping in her bed. I listened closely; but, heard no tummy gurgling. This gives me hope that the storm has passed.

In other bedroom news . . . I am 99% sure that I slept 7 consecutive hours last night with no medical assistance. Once in a while I wake up and don’t remember - but, based on my lack of dreams, I am almost sure that my sleep was uninterrupted. I have been working diligently to stabilize my sleep habits. This seems like a positive sign.  Woot! Woot!

PERSONAL NOTE: I had so much fun at the zoo! Thank you for going with me.

CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: Brilliance is underrated! Why are you scared to play Word Feud with me?

What We Do in Life Echoes in Eternity

current state of mind:  underwhelmed

And all the roads we have to walk are winding

And all the lights that lead us there are blinding

There are many things that I would like to say to you

But I don't know how

~ “Wonderwall” by Oasis

I am not broken and I certainly don’t need saving.

Bold words; bold statement. Interestingly, sometimes when I think them to myself, they truly are assertive and confident. Other times, however, they are tentative and thought with the inflection of a question. We’ve all been in that place where our hearts and our minds refuse to be in sync.

Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda.

Logic and reasoning should always prevail over feelings.  If they would, then we wouldn’t need to be so introspective. We wouldn’t want to punch people in the face one moment and kiss them the next. We wouldn’t need to spend 45 minutes in a room with a stranger we are paying just so that we can talk without feeling as if we are a burden. If feelings could be suffocated by logic and reasoning, we’d not wonder why we want to live our clean and practical lives when happiness is waiting for us to grab it if we’d just be willing to take a chance or get a little messy.

I recently watched “Mary Poppins” with ‘HammockGuy”. He isn’t really “HammockGuy” anymore, as he has a new apartment with no hammock – still, for continuity we’ll stick with the name. I really enjoy having a friend who is willing to abandon all pretense and enjoy a musical every once in a while. We’d been planning this “MP” night for months and it finally came to fruition. Woo hoo for that! I love the film and watch it every couple of months for the sheer joy of it. It is an exceedingly different experience, however, watching it with another adult who also appreciates the lessons it teaches. 

1.  I don’t think I have ever heard someone say “You know, Mary Poppins is kind of a bitch. I mean, ‘practically perfect in every way’. Who says that?” I was taken aback and rather defensive about someone calling Mary Poppins a bitch. I mean, she has rosy cheeks, is never cross, and plays games – all sorts.  After careful reflection, I was forced to agree that she could be misunderstood. I mean,  Mary Poppins does a lot to keep herself emotionally detached from the people around her. No matter her façade, she is far more human than she gives herself credit for. I suppose most logical and practical people are.

2.  The ability to magically clean up the nursery, jump into chalk pavement pictures, have tea parties on the ceiling, and go anywhere via flying umbrella . . .  well, if you are really honest with yourself, it’s not that far of a stretch to say that you’d “take a human life” for those powers. It may not be politically correct to say it aloud – but it sure is nice when someone understands where you are coming from.

3.  Sometimes people don’t see past the end of their own noses – and it is sad because there are a lot of people and things which deserve to be noticed. Chimney sweeps, crazy sea admirals, bird ladies, and children are just a few to note.

4.  When someone’s actions leave you speechless, there is always one word which appropriately addresses the situation: supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. Whether you have been ‘sacked’, proposed to, or had your heart broken, the word fits. Sometimes it may be necessary to say it several times until the manic laughter starts – but hell, you may end up having a tea party on the ceiling as a result.

5.  When you want to lash out at someone for being a jerkface, simply tell them to “go fly a kite”. If necessary, pantomime the string and send the kite soaring into the air. And if they take offense you can backpedal by saying, “Well, not you personally. . .” It worked for Constable Jones. 

If you need a little break from reality, feel free to borrow my copy of the 40^th Anniversary Edition of Mary Poppins on DVD – or just watch it with me.

PERSONAL NOTE:  Thanks for being my friend and for sharing your birthday cheesecake.

CONFIDENTIAL NOTE:  supercalifragilisticexpialidocious  

Who Holds the Key to Everything I Want to Be?

current state of mind:  mildly amused

She's talking in her sleep

It's keeping me awake and Anna begins to toss and turn

And every word is nonsense but I understand and

Oh Lord, I'm not ready for this sort of thing

~ “Anna Begins” by Counting Crows

I have been battling this chest cold thing, so at night I have been taking CVS’s version of Ny-Quil. I think it is called NightTime or something. Well, the stuff packs a punch because I am so groggy in the morning that I think I may actually still be asleep by the time I walk into work. This morning was no exception. As I was walking into the building I glanced at my reflection in the mirrored windows.

“WTF!?! Am I wearing? . . . This is not good.”

I have no idea what I was thinking when I got dressed this morning; none. Bloody hell. I feel like I am back in kindergarten and my mom has allowed me to pick out my outfit all on my own. I have a multi-colored, multi-print skirt on. Normally when I wear this skirt I wear a solid colored shirt so that I do not create a cacophony of color explosion in anyone’s brain. Today, I elected to wear a white shirt that has brightly colored birds and a bicycle on it. In my defense, two of the birds do match the colors of the skirt. But, there is no viable defense for the fact that I have a bright green tank top on beneath the white t-shirt. There is not a trace of kelly green anywhere on this skirt. Adding insult to eye injury, the bicycle color doesn’t match the skirt either. Good gourd!

Of course, I have brought my sweater home to be washed so I cannot even attempt to cover up this ridiculousness with a cardigan. And all the girls around me are fashionistas with their cute, matching outfits on. How does this happen? My only hope is that the imagery here is so terrible that people cannot wrap their minds around it, resulting in a memory lapse when they attempt to recall what I wore today.

PERSONAL NOTE:    I am so happy I got to see you! Happy belated birthday to the little one!

CONFIDENTIAL NOTE:  Next time, things will be different.

The Angel Closes Her Eyes

current state of mind: responsible

You might think it's foolish

This chancy rendezvous

You might think I'm crazy

But all I want is you

~ “You Might Think” by The Cars

Well, ladies and gentlemen, we have done it. The audition video for my brother and I to go on a Spike TV reality show has been uploaded and turned in to the producers. The grand prize, since you are clearly curious, is a “boarding pass” for me and 5 family members into a Vivos shelter. Sweetening the deal is the fact that Vivos is providing armoured transportation, so we don’t have to hope that Lucius Verus can make it to the secret location, should the apocalypse happen in our lifetime. That’s right, peeps . . . my brother and I are willing to sacrifice our dignity so that our family can live out the end of days in an underground shelter with 800 other people. Awesome!

I know what y’all are thinking . . . “Where is that video posted?” Just like the location of Vivos, the location of the aforementioned video is classified. I learned a lot about myself watching and rewatching and poorly editing our audition file. 

1.) When I am nervous, I move my hands and arms around a lot . . . like a cat’s tail, they appear to have a life of their own.
2.) I enjoy using cliché phrases, such as “the fact is”.
3.) Red really is my color for the best skin tone.
4.) When my hair is “just brushed” it looks as if a bird has nested in it while I was sleeping.
5.) The camera adds 15 lbs and a touch of awkwardness. My brother, on the other hand, is actually pretty darn amazing on camera. He is definitely going to need to share some tips with me.

Now, I don’t know if I we will get chosen for the show – but we should. No one out there can possibly have put as much time and thought into Vivos than me. Plus, I have read Machiavelli's 'The Prince' so many times that I can practically recite it in my sleep.

PERSONAL NOTE: Thank you for helping me learn what I need to know about survival, emergency blankets, and weapons. I love your face!

CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: If we win, you can still have that spot I promised you . . . you’ll just have to marry me or let me adopt you. 

Shook the Bones of Me

current state of mind: sleepy

You can call me naive,

But I know me very well,

At least as far as I can tell,

And I know what I need.

~ “Life Less Ordinary” by Carbon Leaf

The band Carbon Leaf (see above) is one that I unintentionally saw live in 2002. I was in Dallas, very excited to see Counting Crows, and had amazing reserved seats in an outdoor amphitheater. We were in the second row, courtesy of a radio station win, which I actually used to do a lot (but we’ll save those stories for another day). Because we had reserved seats, my date (whom I eventually married) and I were wandering around looking at all the vendor booths and enjoying each other’s company.

One of the booths was a side stage where some bands no one had ever heard of were performing. Once those bands were finished, Carbon Leaf dragged their gear onto the small stage. When they did, people started yelling and screaming around us. They had signs with “VA loves Carbon leaf” written on them. It was surreal how excited these 20 or so people were about this band that no one was supposed to have heard of. The moment they started playing, I understood why these die-hard fans were following this indie-band all over the country.

Interestingly enough, Carbon Leaf was not the only band that I became a fan of that night. When the first band took to the main stage, they were introduced as the “Graham Colton Band”. Apparently, Adam Duritz, lead singer of Counting Crows, liked the band and had invited them to tour with them and John Mayer. If you have ever heard Graham perform, you understand how earth shattering that evening was for my musical exposure. Here was this kid from Oklahoma City, living in Dallas, and holding his own while touring with one of my favourite bands. I was blown away by his talent.

It was with great joy last summer, that I had the privilege of taking Girl Twin to see Graham Colton live at a small venue here in town. She also liked his voice and music – so much so that she was actually willing to pose with him in a picture. She bought his CD and chatted with him for a little while, which I thought was awesome. After Graham, however, Toad the Wet Sprocket performed and I was even more impressed with Girl Twin when she walked up to Glen Phillips, told him good show, and asked him to sign a set-list for her. Not bad for a teenager with “MINOR” stamped all over her hands.

To celebrate these great musical experiences, I think y’all should go out and see a show at a small, local venue. It doesn’t matter whether you have heard of the band. Take a chance. You may find yourself becoming a life-long fan.

PERSONAL NOTE: Mad Libs really is the world’s greatest word game.

CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: I get to see you in 3 days!!! Cannot wait!

Was It for This My Life I Sought

current state of mind: aware

I think you should know

That green eyes

You're the one that I wanted to find

And anyone who tried to deny you

Must be out of their mind

~ “Green Eyes” by Coldplay

Firstly, I bit the inside of my cheek this morning. Before everyone starts screaming “bath salts” and “zombie plague”, please know that it was purely accidental. I did not enjoy it and I stopped as soon as it happened. So we are in the clear. Luckily, I am going to the dentist for my 6 month teeth cleaning this afternoon; and I love going to the dentist. I know that I have written about my unusual enjoyment of going to the dentist. There is something so wonderful about walking out of there knowing that your teeth are super clean and that there is no plaque in your mouth. Right? I think it must stem from all those Super Friends commercials for Crest that I watched as a child. Plaque bugs are BAD NEWS!!!!

Tickets for my favourite comedian, Mike Birbiglia, went on sale today here. The show is in October. Someone should buy me tickets. I love him. I won a contest once and was interviewed by him via Skype. It was really fun. I think that is why he is coming here; because I asked why he never ever comes to our lovely state. Also, one year I bought everyone in my family Mike Birbiglia swag for Christmas. They loved it. Well, they said they loved it. That is good enough for me.

This past weekend, I bought a new metal bed frame. My box-spring is no longer sitting on the floor. Thank goodness. I was sure some giant spider was going to find its way into the bed because there was no bed frame. Now I feel safe. Do not, under any circumstances, tell me that spiders can climb the metal bed frame or that they can come down from the ceiling on their magical little silk webs. I enjoy being willfully blind. Anyway, the spiders and I have a binding agreement: “You stay on the ceiling and in your web, I don’t feel any obligation to kill you.” I really hate killing spiders. It makes me sad. If they are slow moving, I catch them in a container and move them outdoors. If they are the really fast ones that look scary, I use the handheld vacuum and then dump them outdoors. If they touch me, I smoosh them so fast they don’t even know what hit them. Then I suffer from guilt for a couple of days. And I yell out a warning to all the other spiders who may be within ear shot that they are next if they break the agreement. It’s working pretty well thus far.

As Columbo always said, “Oh, just one more thing. . .” did anyone else besides me not realize that Trace Cyrus (Miley’s big brother) was the lead singer of Metro Station? I just found that out and it bothers me for some reason. They were far more talented than Hannah Montana and got none of the love from Billy Ray. Why is that?

PERSONAL NOTE: Cannot wait for Sunday’s Sailing Adventure!

CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: Bu ne diyor biliyor musunuz? Eh, sen?

I Heard that Now It Lives in the South of West-Central Spain

current state of mind: breathless

It's not a matter of time, it's just a matter of timing

Do you ever wonder how you got to here?

Take it in; and hold on while you can

All the destruction will one day end

And you'll finally know exactly who you are.

~ “Timelines” by Motion City Soundtrack

Everywhere I go, I am constantly being told that exes cannot be friends. When I ask why, the responses vary by person – but most are so situation-specific that I think the truth is that some people, due to some circumstances, cannot ever be friends after breaking up. Therefore, I disagree that ex-romantic partners cannot ever be friends.

One of my best friends is NBF – and we all know how difficult that ending was. And this week I am going out for Happy Hour with Ex-husband #1. The fact is that I am remarkably talented at maintaining friendships with past loves. The tricky part, I have discovered, is what to do during the timeframe between the heartbreak and the healing. That transitional period is really difficult for me. I believe that this is for a multitude of reasons; but the likely two are 1) I have a very kind memory and 2) I am not able to retain anger. Plus, that whole unconditional acceptance thing gets in the way. How am I supposed to just shift gears from 5^th to 1^st without dropping my transmission in the middle of the road? So, I handle breakups like I do Lucius Verus . . . I engage the clutch and put the car in neutral. I have never been a fan of downshifting. It seems too contrived; plus, I hate the sound the engine makes.

Holding onto this metaphor, let’s continue . . . Sometimes, when in neutral, the laws of motion (and friction) take over and the car slows down gradually, allowing me to preserve my brakes. Other times, however, some eejit cuts me off and I have to rapidly apply the brakes or risk a painful collision. I hate doing that. It is hard on the car and makes my heart race in fear at the narrowly-missed disaster. That feeling sucks. Y’all have had it, I know; that moment when you want to pull over and just breathe. Well, when that moment occurs during the transitional period between “lovers” and “friends”, I get the same “want to vomit” feeling. It is especially difficult when the other person is already “over it”. Normally, I am the one who is well ahead of the curve in that process – so I don’t have a lot of practice at playing catch-up. Perhaps that is why I have always been able to remain friends – because my relationship metabolism is generally faster than everyone else’s.

The inspiration for this introspection stems from a comment someone made to me recently. I wasn’t able to coherently arrange my thoughts so that I could respond at the time. I guess I needed to take the time to write it out and try to filter the minutiae from the principal thoughts. All that matters, in the end, is that the wonderful things which draw us to a person exist, even when you are no longer romantically attached. For that reason, I hate to think that we should be forced to lose those things from our lives just because two people no longer have a mutual romantic attachment. It just takes a little time and heartache for everyone to get back on the same page. Most of the time, patience gets us through the “getting through” phase. So, don’t be afraid to wait for your friend on the other side. I know I have not yet regretted doing so.

PERSONAL NOTE: Motion City Soundtrack is from your hometown! Aren’t you a lucky duck?

CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: “Son, your ego’s writing checks your body can’t cash.” ~ Top Gun – Still, you can claim this one.

I Can Do That

current state of mind: light-headed

And I dug right down to the bottom of my soul

To see what I had inside.

Yes, I dug right down to the bottom of my soul

And I tried, I tried.

~ “Nothing” from A Chorus Line

I am a huge fan of Garrett Popcorn Shops in Chicago. Many people know that I have almost missed flights at O’Hare because I was dead-set on running to the popcorn stand before going to my departure gate. Today, a mega awesome person brought me a medium sized bag of Chicago Mix (cheese and caramel) from Garrett’s. It was my reward for doing well in my classes. I squealed like a school girl and was so excited. I have been snacking on it all day, while exercising moderate consumption, so I don’t get a tummy ache. Luckily, no one has asked to share; cause I won’t. I would rather not look like a greedy jerkface if I can avoid it.

Now, on the flip side, my horoscope today is horrible. Perhaps I shouldn’t have read it; but I did and it sucked:

Emotional comfort may be elusive today as verbal sparring distracts you from making a real connection with someone you love. Even a straightforward romance can grow complicated today as communicator Mercury forms tense aspects with passionate Pluto and disruptive Uranus. Nevertheless, don't let the apparent lack of warmth discourage you. Intimacy doesn't come without a struggle these days. Engaging in an open and honest dialogue clears the air of tension, allowing sweeter times to follow.

I have not verbally sparred with anyone yet – but I am hoping to do so later, just so I can prove once and for all that my horoscope provider is always right!

PUBLIC NOTE: Reminder that after this week, I will no longer be sending these out via e-mail. You’ll have to subscribe using the link below. And I tested it. No spam from subscribing.

PERSONAL NOTE: CANNOT wait to see you Sunday!!!!!!!!!  Woot! Woot! SWU!

CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: Hope you are loving Charlotte even more today!

#34 + Woo = No Surprise Here

current state of mind: queasy

Please don't change, please don't break

The only thing that seems to work at all is you

Please don't change, at all from me to you,

And you to me

~ “Real World” by Matchbox Twenty

I am an INTJ. I sit directly across from an INFJ. We are both left-handed. We share initials. On our Strength Finders chart we share 3 of our Top 5 Strengths. We have similar tastes in music and snack food. INTJs make up approximately 2 – 4% of the population. INFJs hold an even smaller percentage. If we look at Keirsey and his “temperament sorter”, INFJ is an Introspective-Idealist-Mentor-Counselor; a “guiding” force. On the other hand, I am an Introspective-Rational-Coordinator-Mastermind; an “entailer”.

I am a fan of being a “Mastermind”. Per Wikipedia, (which is the easiest site to cut and paste from for this example):

Masterminds are introspective, pragmatic, directive, and attentive. As strategists, they are better than any other type at brainstorming approaches to situations. Masterminds are capable but not eager leaders, stepping forward only when it becomes obvious to them that they are the best for the job. Strong-willed and very self-assured, they may make this decision quickly, as they tend to make all decisions . . . Masterminds are highly pragmatic, and they will put forth a great deal of time and effort to implement effective ideas. They are driven to solve complex problems and to create organized, decided, and executed solutions . . .”

The areas where I am not so strong have to do with being charismatic and friendly and awesome with people. I am not bad with people – generally – it just requires a lot of effort on my part to be social and outgoing. While attending a work networking event recently, I was able to combine my quirkiness with my bravery to meet some new peeps and make a lasting impression.

A group of coworkers were chatting at the event. I approached the only one I knew and said “hello”. Luckily the others in the group were far more adept at these sorts of events and each introduced himself to me. Two of the gentlemen were in town from another location. I asked them the standard question, “Oh, so where are y’all staying?” Here is how the conversation progressed: 

“The Hilton,” they said in unison.
“Oh, great. Are you on the executive floor?” I asked.
“Yeah, actually we are,” one of them responded.
“Perfect,” I stated. “Here is what I need you to do. Tonight when you get back, contact housekeeping and let them know you need some extra Peter Thomas Roth lotions and body washes. Then put those in a bag and bring them to me tomorrow.”
At this point in the conversation, the group was staring at me in amusement. The two travelers, however, were clearly thinking this over. One of them asked, “Um, why did you ask if we were on the executive floor?”
“Oh, because Hilton doesn’t give the body wash out on any other level.”

I went on to explain how expensive Peter Thomas Roth products are and that they are not the first people I have asked to  “hook a girl up”.  They all nodded as if that made all the sense in the world. And the next morning, bright and early, they delivered a bag of Peter Thomas Roth to my desk.  Then, to show their dedication to the cause, the guys brought me more Peter Thomas Roth the next day. Therefore, my stash has been replenished and as long as people who stay at Hilton keep their promises, I should be able to maintain my current toiletry lifestyle for the foreseeable future. Woot! Woot!

Lastly, please note that the page has an email subscription link that can be filled out and submitted so that every post is delivered directly to your inbox. Please subscribe!

PERSONAL NOTE: I’m sorry I was mean to you. I know you were just trying to offer an incentive so that I can achieve my goal. My apologies. 

CONFIDENTIAL NOTE:  While I had no expectations, I am still happy that you were so kind when we spoke. Thank you and all the best.

American Idiot 2

current state of mind: confused

She's an extraordinary girl in an ordinary world

And she can't seem to get away

He lacks the courage in his mind

Like a child left behind, like a pet left in the rain

~ “Extraordinary Girl” by Green Day

. . . Just as I handed my phone to the kid so he could take my picture with Billie Joe Armstrong, I woke up. Bloody Hell! -- another fricking dream cut short by the blasted alarm clock. 

Here is what I remember:

Green Day created a follow-up musical to “American Idiot”. Somehow, I found myself in it. There I was, running around on-stage and in the theatre, singing with Billie Joe Armstrong. The issue was I didn’t know the words and I cannot sing. And it was clearly apparent. Some other female singer was helping me out by singing over my voice and telling me what to do for choreography. Still, there was huge disparity between the rest of the talent on stage and me.

After the show, Green Day, select members of the cast (including me), and Green Day’s manager went out to dinner. We stopped at the zoo on the way so I could tell my family and god children where I would be (makes total sense).

At the restaurant, Tre Cool kept offering me gator jerky, which I took, though I didn’t like it. “Too spicy,” I told him. “Well, rather, too gamey.” He nodded in understanding, but I continued eating it while we waited for our server.

Rather overwhelmed by the fact I was hanging out with Green Day, I ran into the restaurant’s very small restroom, splashed my face with cold water, and stared into the mirror. “Don’t freak out. Keep calm. It’s just Green Day.” I repeated that mantra in front of the mirror several times before returning to our table. Of course, everyone, including Billie Joe Armstrong, had heard the entire thing – but only their manager approached me. “So, tell me,” he said, “how are you in this musical? You don’t know the lyrics and clearly have no professional stage experience.” My face fell and I looked over at Billie Joe who was watching me with kind eyes.

“Well,” I began. “I know I don’t know the words yet. But, I was never given the script. I just watched it on YouTube, but the sound quality was bad, so I had to wing it.”

The manager shook his head. “Not possible. We recorded it for YouTube with professional equipment. The quality is first class.”

“Then it was likely my laptop. The internal speakers suck.”

Billie Joe, Tre, and Mike relaxed at my response and laughed as if that cleared everything up. Then the girl who had helped me during the show put her arm around me and said she’d help me learn it and not to worry. The manager dropped the subject and we all began placing our orders with the wait-staff. I was sitting next to some 19 or 20 year old kid who I think was Billie Joe’s younger brother or cousin or something (in the dream). He was really nice and chatty – but I kept looking away from him to stare at Billie Joe Armstrong, completely in awe. The kid didn’t notice and continued talking about the show and the new music, etc.

After he finished eating, Billie Joe walked over and sat down next to me on the ottoman. (Yes, I was sitting on an ottoman. I don’t know why; apparently so there was room to sit with me.) He asked how I was doing and I couldn’t suppress my excitement any longer. “How am I? Seriously, how am I? I am sitting here, having dinner with Green fecking Day. I am in your musical and I can’t even sing on key. Tre Cool shared gator jerky with me. Mike Dirnt said I did well for my first show. And you, Billie Joe Armstrong, are sitting here chilling with me and your kid brother.” I took a breath and continued, “So, I’d say I am having a damn fine day. How are you?” Billie Joe laughed at my enthusiasm and assured me he was having a “damn fine day” as well.

“Picture Time!” someone shouted and everyone stood up to pose for the photographers. I grabbed my Fuji Instant film camera (the one that ‘dadofthree’ gave me for Christmas) and asked kid brother to take my picture with the cast, etc. He took several pics, but when I posed with Billie Joe, the camera slipped from his hand and all the film was exposed. “No worries!” I said and handed him my cell phone. “Use this.” . . .

PERSONAL NOTE: I know you said that perhaps we have remained friends for the purpose to discover what you discovered today. I believe that your purpose is far more important than even that. You have served as my muse when I couldn’t write, my champion when I wanted to give up, and my friend when all I wanted to do was push everyone away. I am looking forward to the day we can sit at Fat Freddy's, drink a couple pints, and share a conversation.

CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: I wonder if you will ever see this.

Time is the Beauty of the Road Being Long

current state of mind: nostalgic

I know that now you feel no consolation

But maybe if I told you and informed you out loud

I say this without fear of hesitation

I can honestly tell you that you make me proud

~ “Just Wait” by Blues Traveler

Firstly, for the record, I was a virgin until my 20s.

I am not sure if some time in the past I have written a post with the same title as this one. It is my favourite line from one of my favourite songs on one of my Top Five Essential Albums that I must have with me if I am ever trapped on a desert island. This concept assumes my music provider is solar powered and I am not dead from whatever calamity trapped me on the island in the first place.

When I was 19, I went to Ireland. Anyone who is close to me knows that on that trip I met the last person I would love with the intensity and blind devotion that only a person who had once been a teenage girl could understand. He was the last person to break my heart before I understood adult trials, adult tribulations, and the tentative love that remains after all the obstacles have been identified, laid out, and prioritized. In other words, I loved him before I realized that grown-up relationships are based upon value assessments and mutual goals. The driving forces of mutual adoration and passion are forced to abdicate their thrones to logic and statistical analysis.

While going through some boxes of books yesterday, I happened upon my leather Eddie Bauer Travel Journal. The first entry was written on January 05, 1996, while I was on a plane crossing the Atlantic Ocean. The last entry was written May 25, 1996. It took me 5 months to fill the journal. As I flipped through the pages, I sought a specific entry – the only entry in the journal that I didn’t write. The two-page January 20, 1996 entry written by someone else’s hand was easy to locate. I sat in my front yard, surrounded by boxes of books, and traced my fingers across the blue ink. These words are the only tangible evidence that what I experienced really happened – and they symbolize the defining moment when I began the transition from fairy tale dreams to pragmatic lucidity. 

Love is . . . . . . ? ? ?
 If I knew the answer to this question then I could say for sure whether or not we’re supposed to spend the rest of our lives together. But unfortunately I can’t be 100% sure of the answer but can only speculate as to what I think it may be.
 Maybe I’m making the biggest mistake of my life by letting you walk out of my life, or maybe some things are just supposed to happen and are not supposed to continue. I guess we’ll find out. But right now with you lying beside me on this bed in a hotel in Galway, everything seems so perfect.
 I will never forget the short time we spent together as long as I live.
 Always loving you,
R-.
xxx.

I never saw him again. I wrote him a dozen letters which I never actually mailed. I cried enough tears of heartbreak to fill the Irish Sea.  - We spoke on the phone a few times; the first conversation, shortly after I returned to the U.S., was filled with the ideals of Trans-Atlantic flights, immigration laws, and how our love would prevail.  The last time I spoke with him was in October 1997 when he rang to let me know he had received the only letter I ever actually mailed him; the one where I told him I was engaged to be married. I remember leaning against the doorway in my kitchen as he told me that he was marrying a girl named L-. His voice carried the soft lilt for which the Irish are famous. He sounded sincere when he told me that he wished me all the happiness the world could bring me. I hope I sounded as sincere when I returned the sentiment. After I hung up the phone I glanced at my fiancé who was staring at me with concern.

“Who was that?” he asked.

“R-,” I responded. “He rang to congratulate us on our engagement.”

“Are you okay?” my fiancé asked.

“Yes. It was just strange hearing his voice and feeling nothing.”

“Yeah, the whole conversation had to have been rather uncomfortable,” he agreed.

We never discussed it again; any of it. Since that day, I have lived a life filled with ups and downs – like everyone else. I don’t know that I miss the 22 year old man I met on the Emerald Isle. I only knew him for a fleeting moment. I do know, however, that I miss the idealism and innocence which made logic-defying love possible.

Lastly, for the record, I did feel something when I heard his voice. I just didn’t believe it mattered.

PERSONAL NOTE: Happy birthday week to Z-Face’s little brother.

CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: The fact that I reacted is far less interesting than the fact that you wanted me to react.

I Remember When I Said . . .

current state of mind: cautious

After the fall

After all the bubble gum

There is no sweetness

Left on my tongue

~ “Love is Luck” by The Walkmen

Sometimes my writing takes on a voice that is speaking toward a specific person. I don’t enjoy writing in that manner, unless it is a personal letter, because it feels contrived. I do not want to be contrived – not here, not ever, actually. It’s difficult, though, when I have so much to say, so many questions, and no answers. I mean, the answers could be here, in my brain, waiting to be released – and perhaps I don’t have all that many questions, since I dislike asking questions with painful answers. It is “willful blindness”, and most days it suits me just fine.

I received an email which bluntly stated that a friend had found the perfect person to provide the male DNA necessary for me to have a child of my own. The guy is smart, attractive, kind, and gay. So it is unlikely he and his partner will get to have a baby without some intervention. In response, I let my friend know that it is not a lack of ‘swimmers’ which prohibits me from having a child; it’s money. IVF is not cheap. For those of you who want to suggest that there are plenty of parentless children in the world who need a forever family, adoption isn’t cheap either, unless I want to raise a six year old with attachment disorder. Apparently sociopathic wards of the state are available by the bus load. Fantastic!

I am not heartless. I feel terrible for those children. I feel terrible for the infant who was left on top of the car by her “high” mother. http://gma.yahoo.com/blogs/abc-blogs/mother-drives-5-week-old-top-car-164426051--abc-news-topstories.html As if having a pink haired mom wasn’t bad enough; but this one didn’t notice when her 5 week old baby’s car seat fell off the top of the car while she and her baby daddy were driving to the liquor store for something to drink. Fecking brilliant! While the baby is currently with CPS, he’ll likely be returned to one of the degenerate parents before too long. He’ll grow up thinking his life is normal and the cycle will repeat itself. Sad, but true.

I realize I am cynical about fertility. Of course I am. I read these horrible news stories about children who are stuck with birth parents who don’t have a clue about taking care of themselves, let alone another person. Then there are people who would do anything within their power to have a baby and the Universe says, “Nope.” This isn’t just about fairness. I realize that life is not always “fair and balanced” like FoxNews. I just don’t understand it. There are a lot of things in life I don’t understand. I try to just accept the world as it is – but it is difficult when I see things that go completely against logic. We are a species that will kill one another without purpose; laugh at others’ misfortunes; walk away from love and happiness; or make the same mistake over and over again, no matter how painful.  

Through it all, however, I am so blessed to have two amazing children that are in my heart, even if not from my womb. I have friends whose children consider me their “Auntie” and by Autumn, I will be an aunt and godmother to a baby boy. It is probable that I will never get to bear a child with my DNA. It is also probable that I won’t adopt. I’ll still leave my “imprint” on the world by loving the children that are brought into my life by the Universe.

The world may not be logical or fair – but it seems to persevere even when swimming in shite. That has to mean something . . . right?

PERSONAL NOTE:  I do not like green eggs and ham. I do not like them Sam-I-Am.

CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: I hope your first day is all that you wanted it to be.

Free Redbox Codes Are Here

current state of mind: quiet

All you're giving me is fiction

I'm a sorry sucker and this happens all the time

I found out that everybody talks

Everybody talks, everybody talks

 “Everybody Talks” by Neon Trees

I celebrated Memorial Day with Girl Twin, her bestie (GTBFF), Boy Twin, and some of his baseball peeps. What better way to celebrate than spending the day at a waterpark?!? Boy Twin and his friends were supposed to meet us girls at the park around 11am. At 10:45a, I parked Lucius in the NRH20 parking lot and had the girls help me throw things into the trunk so that nothing was left in the passenger area of the car. I rolled the windows down enough to allow some air circulation, grabbed my bag, and locked the doors. As soon as I shut the trunk I knew that something had gone terribly wrong. I dropped an expletive, much to the amusement of both girls. Girl Twin asked what was wrong and all I could do was point to my car keys, lying on the driver’s seat of the car.

I told GTBFF to put her skinny arm through the cracked window to see if she could unlock the door. She couldn’t. Neither could Girl Twin. Bloody Hell! It was at this point that a Good Samaritan stopped by to assist. He phoned his buddy who was almost inside the park to come back and help us. They were not really much help. We thanked them for trying and sent them away. I looked around the parking lot and noticed that there were some thin tree branches in the field at the end of the parking lot. I sent Girl Twin over to procure a sturdy one that we could use to “play Survivor”. Of course, the girls were laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. Still, Girl Twin found two and brought them back. They were pretty flimsy sticks – but beggars cannot be choosers.

First, we attempted to press the unlock button with the sticks; but they were not strong enough for that. Then I decided to use the sticks to hook the keys. Thank goodness I have so many key chains. Though I almost lost the stick through the window twice, eventually I was able to hook the flash drive on my key chain and slowly drag the keys up the car seat. I told GTBFF to slide her arm through the back window and try to grab the keys. She was successful and once the keys were pulled from the vehicle we did a celebratory dance and gave high fives all around. Yes, the “high-five hater” enthusiastically participated in a frenzy of high fives. It was an amazing moment of solidarity, girl power, and disbelief. I highly recommend it to anyone who wants to feel like the winner of a reality show!

 Now, a week later, I am back in Omaha and missing my Texas family. My departure from the Lone Star State was a little abrupt; as I left a day earlier than expected. Sometimes we need to follow our self-preservation instincts. Mine clearly said that it was time to get in my car and drive. So I did. I didn’t drive as far or for as long as Jim Nasche in “Music of Chance”; but the sentiment was the same.

PERSONAL NOTE: Looking forward to dinner on Wednesday and girl time!

CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: I’m not like you. Not this time. Not anymore.