Ever and Now (Poetry Thursday)

I am cheating again, stealing from my poetry page. Ah well, deal...

Ever and Now
If ever there was
If there ever could be
Without me
My ever will never see

Ever not to plan
Ever unfolds in the sands
Ever comes from now
Now to the future, will not bow

Now I will not forget
Now, what will become of it
Now is; in the now
Ever to those behind somehow

Ever is not what I dream
Now in the ever seam
Ever becomes a fantasy
The now is just a part of me

November 04,2000

Overheard

I went to meet my personal trainer over the weekend for the first time. Yes, I got a personal trainer. Not becuase I am trying to be super buff or anything, but because I am having trouble with maintaining my cardio. i.e. I can be on the eliptical machine for thirty minutes or more but I am out of breath climbing stairs. I want to find out what's up with that.

While changing out at the gym, two women were sitting completely naked by the sauna doors, not in the sauna. (Comments on this one are all yours.) One lady was complaining to another lady about her daughter and her grandson.

"Trevor just went downstairs to the basement! He was there when I got home. He didn't ask. I couldn't believe it. I called Debbie and told her that out of all people I expected her to raise her son better than that. She hung up on me. I can't understand why she's so upset. She should just apologize for Trevor and get over it."

So tempting to jump in with, "What did you expect calling your daughter a bad mother?"

On the walk to the square downtown, a girl with hugley dialated eyes was talking to another girl, "That would be really cosmic. You and I should totally get those tattoos together."

Do you think they are going to regret the tattoo they get?

Sun (Poetry Thursday)

In honor of the endless rain ....

Sun calling my name
Shine on me
Light my mind with clarity

Sun holding onto me
Firing up in the embrace
Melting down, I feel whole

Sun bring me out from these hazy shadows
Glare down on the fear that follows me in my image
Vanquished I come out to play

Sun pour in me and I pour to you
We are one
Bright and radiant as all the rest

Warm

7/10/2005

Souvenirs from Maine

I went to Maine over the weekend to see some friends. On my way home a turkey flew three feet in front of my car. After slamming on the brakes and marveling that turkeys know how to fly, I thought I'd stop, gather my composure, and pick some souvenirs. My camera phone is not the best so I'll put in a description for the blurriness.





WTF: over an empty toilet paper roll. (lemon drops)








Anti -Establish Mints. Promise Libertie, Fraternite, and Minty Freshness. (cinnamon mints)









EnlightenMints: Engenders epiphanies and other related phenomenon. (cinnamon mints)










Understand Your Mother instantly without having to meet or talk with her. (peppermint drops)










Dahli - as promised: Banana Lip Balm. Smells like Bananas too.

Cheesy

Now I have time to think
A hundred and twenty miles
Passes each minute

Watching white broken lines
Seeing all the people as we stop and crawl
Feeling like a toddler slowed down by it legs

The unfairness of it all
Police forced into a seventies prison- the camero
He pulls over a mommy mobile

Debating the elasticity of each lane
Wandering where I can fly
What do I think about now

I can be my heros
Carl Sagan imagining the universe
From the after life

I could sing the body electric
Capitalizing on Walt's Fame
If I knew how to sing

Many mores miles
Caffiene levels running in my veins become weak

If I refill I will be bouncing
Either to music or
In search a bathroom

Reching my destination
I shut the catraption off
Preparing to turn around and do it again

Does Love Conquer All

Does Love Conquer All?

In a discussion with a friend, the subject came up. He said no. At the time I agreed with him. Why? Because love seems so rarely to conquer anything much less all. I am wrong though.

I remember love takes all forms; infinite possibilities on every color of love.

Love can conquer all. It frequently does conqueror many. People stay in relationships that are not good because of love.

People are not willing to sacrifice themselves to love. Sometimes relationships breakup because someone will not lose his/her values to keep the relationship going. Good or bad, I don't know. Probably neither.

A thousand ways to act on love or not.

I know if you let it, love can feed you. I find strength in love, being loved and loving.

But should love conquer all? Is looking at love like a conqueror even sane?

Most feelings and actions are individualized. Why not love?

I like to think of love as a most personal decision and feeling -part of the self that spreads outward- something to share.

Will love conqueror all?

Hell if I know.

My lazy ass

I recently signed what I thought was a non-binding exercise contract. I entered into many such agreements over the years.

A friend/neighbor/someone: "You and I should workout togther, the buddy system."
Me: "Absolutely."

Never happens.

The agreement I entered into on Monday was similar. Or so I thought.

Last night, after I managed not to make it to the gym, the devil visited me demanding my soul, a possible future first born, and any blood I have on hand.. yaddah, yaddah, yaddah....

Satan, thinking I was laughing at him, make no mistake - I was, told me if I did not get my ass to the gym, he would strike me dead bloating my corpse but only in the butt and abdomen. CSIs for years would be looking for the "agent" that caused it.

I woke up screaming.

The Man I'd Marry

Evolution of Dance

Cable Guy!

I am waiting for the Cable Guy!

Jim Carey - I wish. Come on -make me laugh dude.

Last weekend's allergy explosion that sent me to the couch all Saturday and most of the day Sunday has prompted me to return to standard cable.

At least now, I'll know what shows people are talking about and I can watch my beloved baseball without paying a fortune.

While I wait for said cable man, I took a trip into the past from a good friend's post. Check it out. (Yes - it's about music. Deal. I'm a music geek: sue me.)

Pollen (Poetry Thursday)

Pressure building, Head pounding,
Sinuses screaming - Congestion

Scratching, Sneezing, Dripping nose
One Nostril passing air

Throaty voice, Elmer Fudd nose
Can you understand me?

Decongestant, Antihistamine, Decongestant
Four boxes of tissue

Allergies

5/17/06

Smiles and Flood

Rain, rain on my face
It hasn't stopped raining for days
My world is a flood
Slowly I become one with the mud

Oh wait, the rain stopped this afternoon and the waters should start receding.

I can see clearly now the rain is gone
I can see all obstacles in my way
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
It's gonna be a bright (bright) bright (bright) sunshinin' day

I see mushy pollen and the road closings.

Okay. Okay. The sun is out and believe me I am thankful. I am not sure I could ever live in Seattle.

***********************************************************************************

Today my godson told me he liked arena rock. Huh?

***********************************************************************************

I give my first presentation of my new job tomorrow.

***********************************************************************************

Smiles rock.

Signs

I don't believe in 'signs'. OK. Sometimes I do. Or at least I do for a small space of time.

Lately I have been thinking of moving. I am not sure about it.

Once I the thought began to grow in my mind, I began getting offers to interview in a certain city; Raleigh, NC. The interviews were for jobs I didn't want and did not want to consider. Very IT and very one-sided. Part of the job I have now is working to set up a redundancy office in Raleigh.

Hmmm....

Is that a sign or have I just begun to notice that my skills are desirable in a tech hotspot?

I have begun to notice other places as well, just not with the same consistency as Raleigh.

Honestly I don't want to move back to the South. North Carolina is a little different. The state has mountains and snow. Still the South.

What's left? West Coast or a Rocky Mountain State- preferably not too far north.

Signs are really about desires and what comes about as a result of those desires.

Do I want to move or change the place I am in?

My Head's Gonna Explode

Being in bed sick for two days is the most boring pastime ever.

My nose is sore. My throat is sore. My head is pounding. If I didn't take decongestants with antihistamines, I wouldn't breathe through the one nostril I am breathing through and my head would explode from the pressure.

Going back to bed.

This is enough for me to wanna upgrade my cable.


P.S. Bill the Cat made a cameo in last Sunday's Opus.

Atlanta

I fly here a few times a year. My best friend Maria and her husband, Lewis, are here. My godson, A, is here and all my friends are here or come here. I wished I liked Atlanta more.

I am in Atlanta to celebrate A's first holy communion and his sister, S's second birthday. The occasion brings everyone. Maria is the center in which occasions like this draw various friends and family.

Vic, who lives here and is A's godfather, and I, with Eddie, A's cousin, sat in the back pews for the Eucharist mass. We tried unsuccessfully to divert A's attention and lure him to sit back here with us. We made jokes and laughed pretty much all the way through the service, which explains why we are in the back pews. Sitting up front would have gotten us in trouble with A's grandparents.

On S's birthday celebration, more people came in; like Paula who I haven't seen in ages and have loads of fun with. We, the friends and family, celebrated by chasing kids around, opening presents, and making plans to see one another over the summer.

Yesterday morning I got up early to spend time with A before he went to school. This a ritual I have with him on the day I leave. He becomes upset when he doesn't see me the day I leave even if I have said goodbye the night before.

My godchild has a way of crystallizing a moment; I realize I am missing his and his sister's growing up.

A: When are you leaving?
Me: Today. Your mom is dropping me at the train station at noon.
A: Oh.
Me: You know I'll be back for your birthday.
A stares at me with solemn eyes and nods.
Me: It's not the same; is it?
A: No, it's not the same.

Maria comes in to the living room and bundles A up. He gives me a hug and leaves for school. I wait until Lewis heads to work and I am babysitting S for a few minutes, who is sleeping. Then I cry.

I already miss my friends terribly. I miss the kids. I miss my second family. I miss the memories that linger here. Even the bad ones. Yet I make the decision every time to go back to
Boston.

Mirages

I seem to go through some amazing high points followed by some amazing insecure moments. I wonder why.

I think that for everything we do in life there is an intrinisc lesson. After gaining some distance over the past six months from my a year of absolute- I don't generally believe in absolutes- ups and downs, my lesson is becoming apparent to me; beware of mirages.

What is real?

If in a given situation, my feelings are strong; I know they are real. How about the person with whom I am interacting? Not so fast. I've been here before and my feelings have led me to believe what I have is mutual.

You'd think that I'd learn not to trust people. What I've learned is that I don't want to abandon or guard my trust in people regardless of the mirage affect. Even though I have seen some interesting oases shimmering in the distance lately, I know I am learning how to identify the real thing.

The thought occurred to me while I was in the shower that I have not set any defined goals in my life lately. Even with my writing. Even my poetry is on a slippery slope lately. I have stuff in the works, but haven't been motivated to push for the finish. (Sorry mom- I am working on it.)

I thought about a "to do" list. I suck at those. They get made and I never look at them again. But what the hell: write a goal, have a goal. (I am not numbering these because then there are no rules on the order.)

!) start writing fiction again. one story. any story.
@) finish my poetry and start sending it off. thank you again Stephanie for the links.
#) I want to be able to get to a place where I can express my emotions as well as Michele or my humor as well as Neil.
$) moving my butt out the door to the great outdoors; long drives are not an excuse to come home and collapse.
%) leave the people behind who have made the choice to stay there and concentrate on the people who are in my present. Thank you Danny for making me laugh when I cry over split milk.
^) I know my dreams and I need to start following them.

I think that is enough for now.

Sam Cooke is now a British White Guy

Driving during what I call the music hour- takes me an hour to get home from work and I play the radio or CDs continuously- I heard what I thought was a Sam Cooke song, one I hadn't heard before, on the radio.

I love Sam Cooke. His voice instantly relaxes me. Doesn't matter if traffic is horrendous. Doesn't matter if life is not crystal clear. I am lifted by Sam Cooke's voice.

Imagine my surprise when the radio announcer said the song played was actually by James Hunter. Turns out some upstart from Britain is singing modernized R&B with a sweet clarity and his voice, what a voice! If I had stopped believing in God, I'd believe in Him again.

James Hunter has the gift. Take a listen and click here. Dare ya!!! Sam Cooke couldn't complain .

6 am

Morning 5:30 am:

catch up on blog reading while coffee is brewing.

Morning 6:12 am:

coffee is done and I am still at my computer.

Morning 6:13 am

can't move...... willing coffee to pour itself and come to me..........

Morning 6:14 am:

ARRRRRGGGGGGGG ..... I don't have this much patience. Going to get coffee.

Opus

Catching up on my reading...

Women can be Disgusting

The secret is out and I can't cover for my gender any longer. Go into any women's bathroom or locker room and the truth will be revealed.

Disgusting behavior comes when a woman, the culprit, believes in assured anonymity. I'll try to spare you the most unmentionable details.

Examples from my gym:

• A large wad of hair was seen on the floor of the ladies' locker room. (Dead hair tends to gross me out and make me gag.) Through the gagging reflex, my conscious thought was that some chick had cleaned out her hair brush dumping the remains for everyone to get sick over. Thank you very much. As I headed out to the weight room, I passed a trash can that also contained another lovely wad of the same color hair. Ugh. This poor woman was loosing her hair and must have been freaking out to leave behind such evidence on the floor of the locker room and on the top of the trash bin, right?
  
  
• During the winter, the ickiest place on earth is the woman's bathroom at the gym. On any given day, toilet paper and a snow mud slush combine together on the bathroom floor making using the bathroom without staying on your tip toes impossible.

Public Bathroom examples in general:

• Splatters of urine left on the toilet seat by the squatters
  
  
• Paper towels / toilet paper strewn across the floor
  
  
• One woman, who muttered an apology as I passed her to enter the one stall bathroom, left such a nasty surprise she herself refuse to flush it. Thank you for leaving me that wonderful task.

I wonder if I am the only woman to clean the public facilities that I use because of the above behavior.

Fellow blogger Mopey Southern Chick wrote about bathroom humor today and for a moment I thought she stole my blog idea. While I know there are voices in my head, I am pretty sure she's not one of them. But that's another story for another day...

Life since Monday

I've had a revelation:

I really, really need people in my day to day life. Working from home has not been great for me. Put me in a cubicle environment again and I'm talking my neighbors to death.

Even if the drive sucks and the gas prices are going to send me to the poor house, I am having fun working along side people again. Hearing the hum of hallway conversations is making me smile.

Even yesterday, bored to tears because I had no computer access, I enjoyed the workplace. I'm so weird.

Still trying to figure out my schedule and finding time to do stuff. Maybe soon will write a real post....

Life may not continue swimmingly but I think this slice is looking up.

New Job

Starting Monday, I will no longer be working from home. I have a new job. One that requires a hell of a commute, but is steering me back into my chosen field.

I am nervous and excited and a little scared. More excited as I am extricating myself from hermithood.

I keep thinking I will miss some of the home life however. Being able to take a walk outside at any time of the day mainly while the sun is still out, for example. I know as the months wind up to summer this will not be a worry; however, the thought crosses my mind.

Or not being able to wear my fuzzy slippers all day, another example. Yet how often do I wear them all day? Maybe too many days.

Meeting new people and finding new adventures as I travel a hundred and twenty miles (did I just really verbalize that? Oh thank God. I only wrote it. It still isn't real. Hope the traffic isn't bad.) are going to be what I look forward to everyday.

I get to be more organized as I fit in waking up earlier, walking, and blogging every morning. Maybe, I'll blog at night. Maybe I'll exercise at night too. Hmmmm. I have a poetry class starting at night soon. I'll have to change the schedule around on those days....

Scheduling will take some more thought.

I am still smiling though.

Yeah!

Patriots' Day

To make up a snow day, a few years ago, my grad accounting class met Patriots Day afternoon. We had a our midterm coming up and needed the extra session. I had lived in Boston for four months and the dawning of spring seemed like a blessing. This was the first warm week since winter. The windows were open and every few minutes a cheer would break through our professor's lecture. Marathoners were running past.

Patriots' Day was the first holiday that I spent in Boston and the first new holiday to me since I came into this world. I had never celebrated Patriot's Day in Georgia.

Today is a fun day. The Sox are playing. The Marathon is running. No matter what the calendar or the weather says, this day is the definite welcoming of Spring.

I'm Off... Will Return Patriots Day

Happy Bunny Hopping Holiday!

Happy Pesach/Passover!

Happy Easter!

A Midday Walk

The sun is pouring radiation down on the river. House windows are gleaming reflecting activity that surrounds them.

My eyes squint to see the contractors putting up a new house on the water front. Impulsively I wave. One waves back surprised at the hello from a stranger.

A bicyclist passes me with a "nice day" and I smile a yes.

The mommy and me group power walk their strollers. Grandkids are playing on the green.

A guy at the vitamin store is complaining about tax season as I make my purchase that will counter balance some of the junk I place in my mouth.

Boys are discussing boats unloading for the start of season at the sandwich shop.

One business guy is contemplating life along the crowded boardwalk.

The river is glistening.

Midday joggers are standing waiting for coffee at a local shop while people with laptops are huddled at the tables.

A few steps more and I arrive at my door.

Another One Bites the Dust

Dammit. I have heard from the Nigerians again.

Lost another relative.

The letters I are disturbing. They state a relative has died and Mr. Nealy, the Nigerian representative contacting me, wants to take a portion of my hard earned inheritance and give me only ten percent of it!!!!

What's up with that?

Granted ten percent of thirty million dollars is still three million.

I understand Mr. Nealy will be handling all the paper work and incurring expense to transfer the money to me. But am I really expected to give Mr. Nealy my bank account number to gain a percentage of some inheritance from a family I did not know I had?

I know. I know.

Mr. Nealy is trying to do justice by me and I should cut him a break. I will still receive three million dollars from his hard work and my relatives' dying.

I am actually very upset with my dead relatives. Why do they feel need to travel to a country where so many wind up dead? Don't they know that Nigeria kills people? I have talked to others and they are also losing relatives left and right in Nigeria.

Do not let your relatives, especially the ones you don't know about, under any circumstances travel to Nigeria. They will die.

*** I know everyone gets these emails. Last week was excessive having received three such emails which were extremely upsetting due to the many deaths of non-existent people.***

Rock, Paper, Scissors

The game is now a sport in Las Vegas?

Apparently yes. Las Vegas held a Rock, Paper, Scissors tournament this past weekend.

I went on the web to confirm that the tournament was actually played and to my surprise a Rock Paper Scissors search came up with 118,000 links.

Oh. My. God. You are kidding, right?

Several RPS, as it called by regional clubs, sites help RPS members become more strategic at the game.

To me, strategy for RPS is kin to having strategy for a coin toss. (and if there is a coin toss strategy - I don't want to know.)

I have some fond childhood memories of RPS. Maybe that's why I bought this t-shirt two years ago.



Nah, I just liked the play on words.

Tagged - I'm IT

I have been tagged by the irrepressible Cincysundevil. Everyone should play- a- long.

Instructions: Go to your music player of choice and put it on shuffle. Say the following questions aloud, and press play. Use the song title as the answer to the question. NO CHEATING.

How does the world see you? : The Long Black Veil - the Chieftains - I am not sure I like this game

Will I have a happy life? : Leaving on a Jet Plane (remake) - Me First and The Gimme Gimmes. - I have no idea what this means.

What do my friends really think of me? : Pump it Up - Elvis Costello - Hold on a second I'm dancing now.

What do people secretly think of me? : Lay it Down - Magnapop - I can only assume this means my neurosis.

How can I be happy?: Head Over Heals - The Go-Gos - Thank God - a happy song - at last.

What should I do with my life? : Monkey Gone to Heaven - The Pixies - and down again. Maybe I need a new song list?

Will I ever have children? : Still Waiting - Sum 41- Now I'm Laughing.

What is some good advice for me? : What I Got - Sublime- Excellent!!!!

How will I be remembered? : Let me Blow your Mind - Eve with Gwen Steffani - I can live with this.

What is my signature dancing song? : Teenage Riot -Sonic Youth- Got a beat and I can dance to it.

What do I think my current theme song is? : Plea from a Cat named Virtue - The Weakerthans- considering the above songs and my past year this could be accurate.

What does everyone else think my current theme song is? : They Can't Take that Away from Me - Billie Holiday - Only child syndrome, maybe?

What song will play at my funeral? : You Send Me - Sam Cooke - Laughing again!!! Love it. I now insist this be played.

What type of men/women do you like? : Hella Good - No Doubt - Yup, Uh huh.

What is my day going to be like? : R.G.S. - Cheap Suits - this song puts a smile on my face.

I open this to everyone, but I'll tag Dahli and Mopeychick. I know they don't usually do Memes, but maybe, just maybe....

The Guest List

The Guest List I thought was a magical thing, a key that would unlock the door to adventures when I was eighteen and worshipped at the alters of guitars and drums.

The music store where I worked allowed me access to the guest list. All the guitar and drum brethren were there and some who worshipped the keyboard and the bass. Better, some of the chosen played and happily would place me on the list.

I, full of excitement each and every time, put out on the wire to all friends: we are going to a club. The gang dressed to the nines, a dead giveaway, and headed for the club where the barrier awaited us.

The bouncer, the one man who never understood that we held the key: we were on the list. The doors should spring open and let us through, shouldn't they?

They never did. Not even when I was a forty year old woman three inches shorter with blue eyes or so my ID told these paragons of bouncerdom.

I would turn away, denied what I thought was mine, heading with friends to some all- ages place.

Something's Nutty in the World of Chocolate

What the ?

Remember when chocolate was chocolate? When Hershey and Snickers stood for candybars that made your teeth rot and would ruin the dinner your mom made? Or when the candybars were just a chocolate fix you had to have?

No more!!

Now you can get a Payday Pro Energy bar!

Try a the new line of Snickers Marathon bars: an Energy bar, an Energy bar for Women, for you Atkins' lovers - a Low Carb Lifestyle bar, or a Performance Protein bar.

Now while chewing each cardboard bite(I actually haven't tried these brands, but from research into other "performance bars" most taste icky.), you can make believe that you are eating that sinful candybar.

(Ok, maybe the point chocolate companies are making is they can make 'health' bars taste good.)

In reality, would I buy a 'health' bar from a candy company? Only if I wanted to pretend that I was eating something healthy.

But I can pretend I am eating healthy with a regular chocolate bar. Milk chocolate has vitamin D, calcium, and iron. Dark chocolate has anti-oxidants. Chocolate with nuts has....

Singing .... Walking in the Rain

'Anyone who lives in the Northeast that does not take advantage of this weather by getting the hell outdoors has to be sick or a vampire. '

That was my thought this morning after completing my walk and rewarding myself with a French Toast bagel. I was walking towards home lost in these thoughts when I ran into an old work friend.

I walked with her to get her morning muffin while catching up.

Rain began. Not a cold rain that has you scurrying but a summer rain. A rain that's nice to walk in.

My friend headed back to her home and I started walking back toward mine.

I love walking in the rain when the weather is warm.

Of course I looked like I drowned when I walked through my door. Still I have my paper, my coffee, and now the sun has come out.

Time to walk again.

A new friend

Took a break from work to walk down by the water. I was sitting on the water's edge contemplating life and sunshine when a little boy sat down beside me. His grandfather was right behind him.

The kid pointed out the ducks and seagulls swimming on the river. He was excited by boats speeding by.

When his grandfather suggested that they continue walking, the little boy grabbed my hand.

I walked with them down to the Coast Guard station that sits on the river where I needed to say goodbye and get back to work.

The Boys of Summer

Around the country Opening Day is this weekend. My favorite teams' pitchers are above in honor of the occassion that kicks off the best season of the year: baseball season!

God it really isn't funny

Dear God,

While you might think some things are funny, they're not.

After flying in to John Wayne airport, being super dehydrated from the plane, and dead tired, I know you challenged Irvinians to hide all ATMs from visitors. You know I needed cash to get my Peanut Butter, Honey, and Banana sandwich from the Shake Shack at Crystal Cove.

Then there was the time you had the lady at Hertz give me a Taurus knowing Fords have the most flawed cup holder design in the world. It took me a half an hour to find the damn thing to put my coffee in.

Yes, it would have been faster driving across McArthur with the coffee cup in my lap on my way to the office. But we all know that is why McDonalds was sued. I don't particularly want to have second degree burns on my legs because I could not find a cup holder.

Your attempts at humor were not limited to my trips out to California either. There was the time I did the Poo Poo dance while hiking up the side of mountain 'cause I drank Soy Milk that morning. Don't think I didn't hear you laughing.

There was the time I fell down the steps while talking about boys with friends. My butt was bruised for a month!

Your humor needs an update God. At least when it comes to me. Can we take me out of the Keystone Cop era? I am tired of doing pratfalls for your amusement.

I have another point of contention to discuss with you, my neurosis. Yes, I thought you made me slightly neurotic to help satisfy your unending need for laughter. But I am damn neurotic.

How did I not know this until now? What else are you hiding from me?

Can we discuss my need to solve all the world's puzzles? I mean the mental ones. If I start receiving jigsaw puzzles as Christmas gifts, I am heading to the other side; the Southern Baptists. I'm not bluffing.

Also why can't I accept some things as they are? Some of it is a mental game and keeps me sharp. i.e. trying to fix blogger's posting from Word that changes all my apostrophes into question marks. You know I am going to attempt to fix it without getting instructions.

Let's keep my neurosis down to a minimum, and I'll shelve the humor discussion for now.

Love,
Michelle

Thanks Voix de Michele for giving me the idea to play with this style.

The Science of Breathing

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Stressed. I breathe faster, shallow.
The world is spinning too fast for me.

Relaxed, I breathe slower, rhythmic.
Wisdom are my actions and motions

Not finding my breath, the world ceases to exist
I work solely on substaining a breath.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Breathing is voluntary motion and
Apathy is my abhorrence.

The Whirling Dervish

Cincysundevil made a suggestion that a music list of new artists be started.

I agree with him. All of us are head over heals about some new artist. Why not post it somewhere?

I am not sure of the essential hows and wheres, but I do think it is a great idea.

I've made a list of some of the stations I listen to and some of the music blogs out there. There are ton. I don't want to start a music blog per se but just get a feel for a few bands that are others are listening to without wading through the ...

I listen to everything. I mean everything, but my roots lie in punk ska and alternative. SO if you are browsing through the list on the sidebar, you'll have some idea of where these places will take you. ( I say that as I am listening to Coltrane. You never know. )

I'm adding suggested artists to the list as I get them.

On the highway

Once upon a time, in a land of the early twentydoms, four friends, two boys who were alcoholics and two girls who were best friends, set out on a trip across the country. Their goal was Boulder, Colorado in time for the June graduation of one friend's sister. In the two weeks in between, the foursome planned on the Grand Canyon and Vegas, baby.

The only thing standing in friends' way was Alabama, as in getting out of the state of. The friends had left Atlanta six hours before, at four in the afternoon, in the hopes of resting in Memphis, Tennessee before hitting Little Rock for sleep.

Remember the alcoholics? A trend had started that the best friends did not know how to stop and resulted in the never ending quest to get the hell out of Bama. The alcoholics would ask to stop for beer and then ask to stop to go to the bathroom. If the girls tried to refuse either the requests for bathroom or alcohol, the boys would 'go' in left over bottles.

Gross, right? That's what the girls thought. To avoid the disgusting the girls acquiesced to the boys request to go to the bathroom every five minutes not sure what was a bathroom trip and what was a beer run. Most often it was both. Through the night and along the rural stretch of highway, the ritual continued.

Twelve hours after the trip began, Memphis was finally in site. Exhausted the two girls, cause there was no way that the boys would be allowed to drive, pulled the car over at a motel in order to sleep.

Three hours later the foursome was back on the road.

Going to My Happy Place

Cropped from Sunday's paper:

The Interview

If I question this and then question that will I ever have an answer?

Does circling around from a different view point really tell much about a person anyway?

Will I continually drive myself into a padded room from so much analysis?

How much analysis is really needed to answer this question?

Do all the answers ever get to the heart of the human connection?

Watching the News this AM

I noticed that once again my Final Four picks are demolished.

• Duke's upset! UNC's upset! Gonzaga's upset! What is the world coming to? The only one in my four left is BC. I should pray for an upset.
• The only good thing is that I don't actually watch these games. The Final Four is a work habit I picked up. (My sports weakness is baseball.)

Texas has a new law that a person cannot be drunk inside a bar.

• Why?
  
• Does this mean the movie Barfly will never get remade?
• Are we re-entering prohibition?
  

For more relevant news, i.e. more interesting to me, see Voix 's music series or Cincysundevil's I Might As Well Get Ready for Reunion Tours (3/19).

I stole this from Bookfraud: The What classic punk band are you Test

Dead Kennedy's

If you are as crazy about music as I and want an influx of new music, check out these sites that allow you to customize your own personal radio Pandora and Launchcast, and music news is on You Ain't no Picasso - a blog site dedicated to music with audio clips. I am currently checking out My Space's music page for value.

I am looking for good new music. Let me know if you have any sites or bands.

Continuance

I never believed in love at first sight until then.

Maybe that was just chemistry. The world needs illusions especially when the war begins.

Battles rage inside between the heart and the head. Normally the head wins.

Reeling from every over-exposed nerve and overwhelmed by emotion, the brain could not keep up with the thump of the heart.

Absorbing all the information from what was said and not said, I connected the dots to the knowledge I already knew about him, creating new dots to be connected with incoming precious information at later time. This man quickly became an intricate part of my life.

Could life be changed in just one moment?

Synopsis

The feeling. Falling in love. The feeling was a first, the first time. Standing out from all the ones before, the crushes and infatuations.

A wealth of emotions, a whirlwind, never feeling so alive.

A first step refusing the slightest of imitations; no work of fiction captures this essence. Shunning all medias except one; music.

Billie Holiday soothes the senses; tingling from exploring so much, relaxing the mind into a state of happiness; enjoying the moments.

Even though the feeling is lingering in the past, a fundamental part of me has changed from the monumental awakening.

My Fuzzy Slippers

I wonder why the Keyspan Energy guy was laughing when I let him in wearing these?

Dreams of Platelets

"I had a really weird dream last night. "

No matter how many times that line is said, I am still drawn in. My response is always, "Really! Tell me about it."

Yesterday I blamed my mom for embarrassing me. Today I blame her for my interest in dreams. Dreams are fascinating. I'm a bit Freudian that way.

Whether someone dreams in color or black and white doesn't matter too much to me. The juxtaposition of activities in someone's life and how they manifest in that someone's dreams is what I find interesting.

I wonder if dreams help people figure out dilemmas. I wonder how much what people dream affects their moods for the day.

That said, I dreamed last night I needed to donate platelets.

Not an interesting or weird dream and it does nothing for my mood today. I do feel the need to schedule an appointment with the Red Cross.

The Search for Writers

Had an email conversation recently about writer's groups or poetry groups near me. I have been to one other writer's group at Barnes and Noble. B&N hosts writer's groups at certain locations in Mass.

The first time I attended a writer's group at B&N my mom was in town. My mom has written periodically for a local paper in Maine. I thought she'd enjoy going with me, my roommate at the time- Silva and Jen.

The meeting went well. I had enough back material to keep me covered.

After the meeting, my mom was discussing something with another writer. I was standing by her waiting to leave. My face looked interested, but all I was thinking was 'how much longer do I have to stand here?'.

Jen and Silva were psssstting me. I gave the "hold on a minute" sign because the other writer was speaking.

Now I don't know why, actually I do - her name is my mom and her goal is my marriage to anyone which she discusses frequently and had done so on the way to B&N- Jen and Silva start giggling and whisper loudly "he's married."

I, mortified, whisper back, "hush", while probably shaking my head and making a face. Smiling politely at the writer and my mom. I join my friends, smack them on the arm, and head for whatever mission they wanted me for, which I admit was better than standing listening to my mom and said writer.

Could I go back to that group of writers? I did every other week until I moved. The need to share writing was more important than the embarrassment.

Now I live two hours away from these writers and am looking for a new group. A poetry group would be great.

I went to my Yahoo Yellow Pages. There is actually a section under Entertainment and Arts called writers. The section doesn't help me but the names are entertaining for a minute. Braile Robert, Polese Clancy, Beach Brooke Productions, Zyla Gail Communications. Zyla is my favorite. Though I do like Polese Clancy.

I am looking back to B&N for writer's groups nearest me.

Happy St. Paddy's Day

Drop by the Carnival of the Mundane VI at breadandbread.blogspot.com.

Update: Cheryl at Bread and Bread was victim of Blogger's technical difficulties. Check back later with her.

Good Green Day!

Stream of Consciousness

Thank you Stephanie for the good advice about poetry submissions. You helped me to have faith in my poetry and to submit what is not necessarily a favorite.

The other day I walked down to the water after being cooped up inside for too long. Writing overtook me:

The water is moving rapidly today
I sit here and feel the moisture in the wood from last night's rain
A front is coming in
I don't need the weather man to tell me
I can feel it in the wind as it blows my hair in front of my eyes
Making my writing hard to see
I see the front coming in the river's choppy waves
The sun is out and really that is what I care about
Too many storms and overcast days have clouded my mind for sometime
I write better here even with the seagull staring at me
Reminding me that Hitchcock was a genius
He wants food and is only three feet from me
All I have is coffee
I wonder what a hopped up on caffeine seagull would look like

Contemplating my Toenails

Chutzpah -I entered a poetry contest which asks for unpublished work. Do blogs and internet sites count? Can I send in my work to an online blog site at the same time? I find not sending in my favorite poems difficult.

Toxicity - I wrote, at the beginning of the year, that last year was a particularly hard one. The latter half of the year was filled with crisis after crisis. I am getting my emotional bearings. The ahhhhgggggg is finally leaving my head.

The third decade - From my teens through my twenties, a group of friends would always hang around together. As Erica pointed out, we would splinter off into smaller subsets as people came and went. The core was always there. Still is.

That core has moved outward now into different cities. As I talk to my friends I see a pattern. Finding people to support us in different activities is difficult. i.e. I like to go dancing. I have a friend that will do that, but she lives in Augusta. When we meet up, then we go.

Is making plans with friends who have the same commonalities harder in your thirties because that is the decade where most people focus on family and being a family ( I am single. Most of my friends are not.), or do I find it harder because I come from a close-knit group who had been together so long?

Drinking Problem - I seem to miss my mouth, always catching the outer corner, when drinking coffee from cups with lids.

Music - I love music. Avid music lover. All forms. All the time. My ultimate job is helping people fulfill their dreams. If that job involves music, my passion, all the better. Working on it.

Union

Two years ago my best friend married the love of her life. They have two beautiful children, and they are truly a wonderful family.

I want to commemorate their wedding anniversary with the poem I wrote then. I love you both.

Union

Sacred are these things

The individual soul holds more promise than all the sun and stars
The universe holds no secrets as compared to all that is locked in a soul

A marriage brings together two souls to unlock the harmonies
Igniting, shining the love to all those who would bear witness

A family. And the world is changed forever.
Synergy of unconditional love brings forth a continually bigger circle

Miracles of the world look forward to rare events as these
Events that are three, have been made

Strength of these bonds are not binding, But freeing

To be the essence of you without restriction
To have another's acceptance and encouragement to just be

They say all that glimmers is not gold
Yet, all that shines as brightly as the sun is greater than the light

Now you know better riches than all the kings
Now you know life for what it is

Hold these moments close to your heart; therein lies the beauty
It will carry you forth forever and a day in love that holds you now sway

All that you are due is now in your possession
Happiness is fragile wings that can be forged into tempered steel

Steel that will lift you higher than you been
Protect you from the darkness and be your light

Sacred are these things to hold

Update: Flat Stanley In Boston

Flat Stanley went back last week to Atlanta. We (Jenn, Robin and I) miss him. My friend Jenn wanted to take Stan the Man to Germany with her. For a flat guy, he was a lot of fun.

Stan has an interesting way of meeting people. While taking picutures, people would call out to us,
"Flat Stanley?"
Us with huge grins: Yeah!
Stranger 1: Take him to the Constitution
Stranger 2: You really outta take 'em to the bah pahk (Fenway).
Stranger 3: We took ours to Hahvahd.

Here's some picture we did take. ( I have no formatting ability with pictures.)

First picture is of Stan in front of Frog Pond in Boston Common. He used to be able to ice skate. I offered to take him out on the ice but he left his jacket in Georgia and was wee bit cold.

Stan and I thought it was too cold to walk to the Constitution. We're babies. We tried to capture the ship from Cobb's cemetary. Unfortuantely, you cannot make out the ship through the branches.

We headed to the Old North Church and I posed.

Two days later Stan and I went to Concord and stood outside Hawthorne's house.

Here's to you Stan!

Rambling thoughts

I recently made a comment on one of my favorite blog sites; Voix de Michele, that set off a discussion on another favorite blog site, Cleopatra's Kitten.

Both site's posts have given me a lot to think about. Issues that I have been weighing on this site. How much do I post and how personal can it be?

I like to think of this site as a place where I can work out the ramblings in my head while improving my writing. Yet, some of the thoughts involve other people whom some readers know. These are not bad thoughts. I don't want to cause a gossip chain or unintentionally hurt someone.

I want to have the confidence to own this site, much as I own my poetry, whether the readers are there or not .

Julie and Michele have voiced this discussion more eloquently than I. (I am stringing together the sentences from their posts that provoked the most thought.)

Julie: "At the risk of starting a polemic, my theory of audience can be summarized in this way: Traditional readers (of books) give, bloggers take." To elucidate my theory, I think blogs are about the bloggers, not audiences. And I believe that books, journals, and magazines function in the opposite way. But when we blog, we are blogging for ourselves. ...blogs can give a blogger the impetus to continue with his or her writing

Michele: I spent the rest of the day tumbling this comment around in my brain and wondering about the value of maintaining this space as a road map of my emotional truths.... about the value of making the discernment of emotions clear. Perhaps this blog of mine is my rope ladder to self-confidence? Or maybe it's woven more like a fishing net -- infinite numbers of diamonds connected together, anchored to the place I used to be, raising up into the sky, waiting for me to climb higher and higher to a new platform -- to a place where I not only claim my truth, but I believe it.


Musings...

The Little Things

Music is the happiness that bursts on a bubble blown by child
Floats on the air
Surrounds the soul in melody
Dances harmony in between heartbeats

Baseball spring training games are underway. Winter is finally releasing her hold. The Cheap Suits CD is on its way. The Cars are back together for a reunion concert.

I am happy sitting in the sun.


Update: Dahli asked how can a Cars reunion can take place without Ben Orr? Enter Todd Rundgren. Not the same I know.... Will keep update to date on this. I also hear Rick Ocasek may not be on the tour which is a let down, but look at this way Spring is COMING!!!!

The Thin Man

With the Oscars fresh and inspiration rambling in my head by this post from Neil, I decided to write about my favorite romantic comedies. Just feeling the springtime.

The Thin Man series makes my all time favorite movies list and best romantic comedy. Why? There was COMEDY in that them there romantic comedy.

The dialogue was subtle and startled laughter right out of you. The brilliant writing team of Albert Haclutt and Frances Goodrich have no equal. The story is no where near the match of the dialogue but the dialogue....

Nora: (commenting on another character's beauty) Pretty girl.
Nick: Yes, she's a very nice type.
Nora: You got types?
Nick: Only you, darling. Lanky brunettes with wicked jaws.

Maybe seems cheesy, but I like my cheese and this cheese was excellent. William Powell, Nick, and Myrna Loy, Nora, were geniuses of comedic timing. Doris Day and Rock Hudson had nothing on them.

I wish the current movie world would take lessons from The Thin Man series. I'll take brilliant wit and dialogue any day over cookie cutter stories.

Just musing.

The Fiercest Test Yet

I was feeling rather sunshiny. I still am actually, but having seen yesterday's Yahoo news item (seen below), I am not going to keep my political mouth shut.

Even though I don't agree with abortion, I think abortion is the most personal decision a woman can make. I still believe that abortion comes under a woman's (and actually a man's) right to choose.

I think in today's society with so much prevention available, even in a bathroom of the clubs, I have a hard time understanding why abortion is a common choice. I think the ease in choosing abortion may have more to do with how women see themselves in the sexual process. Which is sad. The self esteem issues, the fear, the ignorance... sad sigh.

In this time of my life, I understand what a young woman can't see beyond and know her life is not over. I can't condemn what people don't know or what fear is preventing them from knowing.

I've never been a situation where I needed an abortion, but I've been to the clinic with two of my friends. Once in high school and once in college. I've seen the protesters outside the clinic who claim so much love and spew hate. Those are the people who terrify me.

I've seen the psychological effects of the process on the women who underwent the procedures then and now. I have a different friend now who rips herself apart because she can't have children. Women who can't seem to help each other.

The person I am today, who wants children and realistically may not have any is against abortion at a very personal level. Yet I still advocate the right of choice because women are left on their own to fend for their health. Women need to be in charge of their health and women's health issues are not taken seriously enough.

The argument over the issue is a sad one. I have no answers, but if I remembered correctly, the Supreme Court ruled that abortion was legal because of privacy rights implied in the First, Ninth and Fourteenth Amendments. Because privacy rights are sacred, I am scared for this law to be overturned. (on more than just abortion issues, but I'll save that post for another day.)

Yahoo News Item on Abortion

S.D. Governor Signs Abortion Ban Into Law

PIERRE, S.D. - Gov. Mike Rounds signed legislation Monday banning nearly all abortions in South Dakota, setting up a court fight aimed at challenging the 1973
U.S. Supreme Court' decision that legalized abortion.

The bill would make it a crime for doctors to perform an abortion unless the procedure was necessary to save the woman's life. It would make no exception for cases of rape or incest.

Star Coffee Wars

Starbucks and the local coffee houses
(repost from 11/04)

Today I visited what has been called the Evil Empire or more exactly that "blood sucking corporation" I'm still not sure why the Empire is called that. OK, I sorta get it. Anyhow, the Empire was busy as it usually is on days like today. I looked for Darth Vader, but he was nowhere in sight. I didn't want to stand in line; so I went up the street to the local coffee shop.

The locals usually get to the Empire earlier or they start at the local shop. Actually there are five places here where you can get a caffeine fix like the one I needed today. I prefer the cappuccinos from the Evil Empire. Their coffee though sucks. That goes for their tea as well

At the local, I saw Darth Vader sipping on chamomile and jasmine tea. He had his mask off so he looked human. I had to laugh. He was just lounging

There is an economic philosophy, economies of agglomeration, that says business increases by opening stores that sell the same products within a certain radius. All five coffee shops do a great business.

The evil empire really hasn't harmed business for anyone. People go into the store name they remember and, overwhelmed by the line, move to one of the other four caffeine shops, all locally owned. They may even get a better cup of joe or discover the world outside of coffee.

Hmmm... Soothing tea, hot chocolate, root beer floats; remember them? I think I fall in love with floats every year. Floats are rememberences of being a child again.

So is Darth Vader the father of Skywalker? I guess it's kinda how you look at it; the chicken or egg argument. Do you believe Darth kicked off the trend of coffee shops? If so, then the local ones wouldn't exist?Hmmm... maybe not.

The bad news is the Empire has a plan to triple the numbers of stores they have and add some stores with drive-thrus. Yes, I said triple, encouraging an already lazy nation to become even lazier. The Empire grows more dominant.

Here's what's good about the Empire: consumers can buy Fair Trade and shade grown, read less bitter, coffee in the same, if not better, percentages that they can buy it at their local grocery. Local coffee houses don't know shade grown and fair trade coffee from a hamburger.

Does this mean Skywalker has no chance? Have faith young Jedi. The coffee house is an institution that goes back to the 1500s where ideas, arts; enlightenment have been exchanged. That will not stop.

The battle will be long, fierce and silent, where consumers hold all the power over the outcome.

Waiting on Cheap Suits

Cheap Suits is an unsigned band, and I can't image why other than possible lack of exposure. The band rocks some serious ska. Love their last album Canadian Idles.

The band has released a new album One Giant Leap. I ordered the CD about two weeks ago from a Canadian Music site, Maple Music. I am trying to wait patiently for it, but every day when I check the mailbox - no CD.

The scenario I imagine is this:

• Maple Music sends an email to Cheap Suits or their manager and tells them an order has come in.
• The band grabs the master DAT (do they have DATs anymore?) or CD off a shelf and burns my CD.
• The band then heads to Kinkos and makes a copy of the CD art cover.
• Once everything is pieced together, the CD is sent to Maple Music for delivery.

Am I being a thoroughly impatient American? Am I too used to Amazon.com or ordering from my local music store? Maybe this is the perils of ordering music from an unsigned artist?

Canadian Idles I ordered last year in December and figured the holiday season slowed down the three week delivery, but this order seems to be taking just as long.

I love this band. Truly I do. I want my CD!!!!!!

Someone send me some cheese with my whine.

Summer of 1993

I met Aditya on a Saturday night in the summer of 1993. He and Jack showed up at Maria's house. Aditya's first words to me, other than 'Hi', were that he had "graduated from Harvard." Aditya, of course, was joking, but when he showed me his real graduation diploma from Alabama, I didn't believe him.

During that summer after we met, five to ten of us would get together every Saturday night. It was our poker night. We bet pennies, played poker, listened to Danny and Andy playing guitar, and at least once during the night, we all would endure listening to Aditya enacting the song "Grease".

We created a bond that summer: Maria, Aditya, Danny, Aileen, Troy, Tomie and I. Some of us were friends before hand but at that time we became a group. All of us would get up in the morning and get breakfast, go to the park, etc.

That summer symbolized the pinnacle of our youth. That was also the summer our friend Julie got married. It was the first sign that we were adults, and it was time to move forward into our lives.

After that summer, we were a group no more, but the bonds forged then are still here now. Each of us has had tribulations and triumphs since then. We started to follow our dreams. We have grown up. Five have gotten married. Five have children. Three of us moved away. Five of us got grown up jobs. One of us has died.

There was only one of us that kept after the dream. The one that starts: "What do you want to be when you grow up?" That was Aditya. He kept after his dream. Some of us never seriously tried. Why? It would be too devastating to fail at that kind of attempt to reach the clouds.

Aditya, though, had the conviction to make his dream work. He never gave up on it even though many would have. His dream, to make movies, called to him over and over again. Aditya left once to New York and came back again after 6 months and a completed movie. Then he left again.

New York is not the kind of place to let you forget what you are there for. Aditya and New York were made for each other. This was the place where Aditya could go after the dream and improve his life.

You would think that Aditya's greatest triumph was living his dream. Maybe it was, but Aditya's greatest trial was learning to live sober. He achieved this dream even when some of us could not be with him through the lowest time. Aditya's commitment to recovery, however, drew his friends and family to lend him support when he needed it. Aditya would have done the same or more for us. His support to us was never faltering.

Sometimes when I am down and can't see the light, I remember Aditya calling me to say he was proud of me. I think that means more now than it did then. Those words and his faith in me, when I have lost faith, give me the strength to endure anything. I miss him.

Being a Teenager

I think I've forgotten what it is like. Teenagerness I mean.

My friend Jenn is part of the Big Sister program. Her little sister C is a smart, funny, awesome thriteen year old. C is the combination of toughness and exuberent childhood.

The toughness is what I have forgotten. In the adult world of passive aggressiveness and veneer politeness, C will remind you how to stand up for yourself. Not a bad reminder I think.

She is at the point of finding her idenity and owning it. Watching her do so is facinating. I learn something from C. She reminds me that I too have my own space and not to yeild it so easily to others.

I think that giving into all what C wants would be easy because she is young. However, doing so would be a mistake. Being a teenager is also about learning others' boundries as well as your own.

On Thursday night I, C, Jenn, her husband Gino, and Jenn's mom Joan were gathered at Jenn's house for dinner. C, Joan, Gino and I were in the kitchen. Gino was perparing the chicken while the rest of us talked.

C: This music sucks. Let's put on something different.
Joan: Gino is listening to this right now.
C: But I hate it.
Joan: But he enjoys it and we are going to listen to it now.
C looks at me: This music sucks. I hate this music.
Me: Learn tolerance girl.
C pouts and leaves the room to find Jenn.

Not ten minutes later C and Jenn were back in the kitchen. C was bouncing up and down about how much she wanted to see Ice Age 2. Music forgotten.

Jenn is a great big sister. She delights in C's company and is good at gently guiding her through the rough waters of teenagedom.

Roses are Red

I finally made the journey to see my mom in Brunswick this past weekend. The blizzard the weekend before prohibited me from going as originally planned.

Brunswick hosts an annual event in February called Longfellow Days. Brunswick celebrates the poet by hosting poetry readings around town and in the schools. Mom and I attended one such reading on Saturday.

I found it hard to sit through the poets' reading. Their words sort of drifted pass me. I find when listening to the written word, I am a better reader. Maybe that's why I enjoy reading blogs so much.

I write my experiences in this blog. This blog contains my thoughts about the world as it whirls around me, but if you want to see into my heart read my poetry.

Yes, that is an unabashed invitation. Prose can bring out a person's soul, but generally not my prose. I don't claim to be a great poet or even a great writer. I like writing and poetry is therapy.

My poetry contains my heart or my heart at a place in time. Because I write my emotions in verse, I generally won't post poems until some time has gone by and perspective has set in.

Shouldn't the essence of the heart be felt in music, lyrics, poetry, stories, photographs, paintings, and sculpture? Shouldn't a poet be showing his essence in his poetry?

Flat Stanley

I waited for a phone call from a boy for the first time since high school. And I was stood up.

Normally, a boy would be immediately forgotten. I would be challenged to remember his name or recall his face. However, this boy is forgiven.

What makes him so special? He's eight and my godson.

My godson is doing a project for school and I have been enlisted to help him. I was supposed to hear all the details last week, but I suppose homework, baseball, or something else got in the way. Ah well...

Flat Stanley arrived in the mail a few days later.

Flat Stanley is a kid that got squashed flat as a pancake. He's normal in all other aspects. Now that Stanley can fit into an envelope and be mailed, he has a penchant for traveling

My godson has colored up Stan the Man in readiness for a tour of the places that surround me. Stanley and I went to Maine over the weekend. (The picture is of Stanley at Land's End. )

Stanley and I are heading into Boston next.

When I nod my head and smile

I attended a charity dinner on an invitation from the host. The host is an extremely warm hearted lady who started a scholarship fund when her husband died of emphysema. I was glad to attend this event for her.

I arrived at the hall about thirty minutes before dinner was served. The host seated me at a table occupied by members of the same family. The family was affable and included me in their conversations. I enjoyed meeting them.

The matriarch, the word does fit her, of the family sat across from me. The grand dame told stories the night through. Her gaze wandered the table as not to exclude anyone from her words. She would asked for opinions and then cajole agreement with her smile.

I smiled.

I laughed.

I nodded my head and smiled some more.

The matriarch commanded attention and conversation, but her voice was low. I could not understand one word in three. I do not read lips and asking her to repeat herself would not have worked. So..

I faked my way through the evening.

At the end of the evening, I garnered a hug from the matriarch. She said I was excellent company.

Flat Ass Tired

No brain cells are functioning (see last post); so I leave you with this (jealousy on my part).
Good weekend.

What Your Sleeping Position Says

You are calm and rational. You are also giving and kind - a great friend. You are easy going and trusting. However, you are too sensible to fall for mind games.

What Does Your Sleeping Position Say About You?

Insomnia

I am beginning the insomniac cycle again. I don't know why. Just am. Got up at one a.m. and read a bunch of blogs, made some tea, snuggled down on the couch and watched the Winter Olympics repeat coverage. Finally I crashed out at four this morning.

A friend told me that I am not exhausting myself enough during the day and she's probably right. What kills me is that despite the insomnia, I wake up earlier than normal. The rest of the day.... CRANKY!

What distresses me in the daytime about my insomnia is I am normally a sound sleeper. I have slept through tornadoes, gunshots, and speakers blaring with music thrown up against my ears. I do not wake up for anyone or anything. Insomnia is counter to my sleeping nature.

Even though I sleep better in bed, when I have insomnia the couch is where I end up staying the remainder of the night. What puts me to sleep nine times out of ten is the TV. I think my insomnia proves the TV really is the idiot box. I am not thinking when I am watching TV therefore I fall asleep.

Shows that have routinely put me to sleep in the past are on the Boomerang network. Something comforting about watching the Super Friends, Quickdraw McGraw, or Scooby Doo puts me right to sleep.

Exploring Dora

I am so flattered. Or I was.

I received an email with the title Intrested in You. (I can ignore the spelling mistakes, sort of.)

Intrested in you,My name is Miss Dora,i saw your profile today at (http://waiterrant.net/?p=267) and became intrested in you,i will also like to know you the more,and i want you to send an email to my email address so i can give you my picture for you to know whom i am.Here is my email address (dora*******@*****.com) i believe we can move from here.I am waiting for your mail to my email address above.Miss Dora(Remeber the distance or colour does not matter but love matters alot in life
Yours Love Miss Dora

Love does matter a lot in life, but aren't we jumping the gun a little?

The Miss in Miss Dora had me thinking maybe this was a guy, my preferred romantic interest gender. Maybe he had read my post on the Transexpistols and thought I could handle a transexual. That could be an explanation for this love note.

Something about the email was a little off, other than the fact someone was seeking 'love' based on a comment I left on another blog site. Other than that!

I needed help to word my flattered refusal. I called in Aileen.

Aileen, the super investigator, Googled Miss Dora and I went back to the email. We both came up with the same result. Sorta.

Aileen found that Miss Dora is a spammer. She's known for it.

I, upon reexamining the email header, To: Anon@mous.com, decided that Dora is slut.


Date: Fri, 10 Feb 2006 14:50:47 -0800 (PST)
From: "dora ***"
Subject: Intrested in you,
To: Anon@mous.com

It's Tuesday!

After many years of eschewing the 14th of Feb, I am going to celebrate this Valentine's Day in this way:

It is my belief that love never dies. The people you love, you always love. Sometimes that love is encapsulated in a moment in time and circumstance. For today and all that follow, I send my love, whether past or present, to those that have shown me friendship, kindness, inspiration and love.

Mom, Mema, Pepa, Jean, Omer, Ed, Karin, Maria, Lewis, Austin, Sloane, Aileen, Danny, Ian, Iris, Maria, Jose, Nena, Gloria, Maria, Eddie, Little Eddie, Shannon, Jennifer, Gino, Troy, Patty, Erica, Kyle, Sean, Bethany, Vic, Alexis, Julie, Matt, Kaylie, Sarah, Kelly, Peter, Aditya, Mukta, Aalok, Mr. and Mrs. Chandora, Marnie, Todd, Anya, Cindy, Bob, Tomie, Mike, Skip, Linda, Dot, Robin, Brian, Kathy, Brad, Kris, Benu, Ted, Nancy, Kim, Jo, Denise, Dave, Erick, Patti, Barbara, Katie, Mr. and Mrs. Dyer, Walter, Rahul, Silva, Diane, Ron, Ruth, Bill, Glenda, Robert, Mason, Todd, Brian, David...

Happy Valentine's Day!

Digging Out

Realizations from a Blizzard

1. Maybe watching the Olympics is a good idea.
2. Spandex-clad joggers jog through snow, sleet, wind and rain. Coincidence same is said of postal workers? I think not.


3. Your house is your home... for at least two days.


4. Tea and hot chocolate are your best friends.


5. It's not the best time to realize that your snow boots and shovel are in the car.


6. Thermals really do work.


7. Shoveling has to be good exercise otherwise my thighs and biceps would not hurt so much... ouch.


8. Snow drifts that are taller than you, natural or from a snow plow, are impressive if not a little scary.


9. Funny stupid hats are no longer funny; they are ingenious devices that really keep your head warm.


10. You develop an appreciation for ski masks.


11. When walking in the cold, bring tissues. You'll know what I mean when you go inside somewhere.


12. When your car finally gets plowed out, remember to bring your license and money.


13. The radio station telling you that temp outside is colder than Fargo means nothing.


14. People are cooler when you shovel out together.

Surveys from my Psyche

Perhaps the weirdest part of my psyche is that I love to do surveys on completely random curiosities.

Brand New to the Surveying poll:

• How many colors has your pee or poop changed?

This question is thanks to the WVSR Feb 10th post.He says his kids' cereal will turn your poop cobalt blue. Cereal has changed over time. Don't think poop changes color put I know urine does.

Past surveys have included:

• How much change does it take a person to jingle when they walk? Do guys jingle more than women? How can guys sit on wallets? Shouldn't that be uncomfortable?

Survey says: Women tend jingle more because they tend to keep change over time. Wallets are not hard to sit on though it depends on what the guy has in there. I don't remember the exact amount of change it takes to jingle but it is a lot.

• Do you think kissing should be a contest on a sports channel?

Survey says: This was posed to a group of college students on my behalf. They answered no. I still think this one is worth a shot because every kiss is judged by the lips on the other end.

• Are men willing to buy tampons for women?

Survey says: About 50/50. Not so much because men are not willing to buy them but women tend to keep up with their own feminine needs.

• Do guys really poop at the same time everyday?

Survey says: Yes. Guys poop at the same time every day. Weird.

Pulled Post

Pulled my post today because the AP article that generated my sarcasm is no longer posted on Yahoo News. Can't find it.

Trepidation

I am going to visit my mom this weekend and I do so with some trepidation.

Let me start at the beginning. My mom holds the power of attorney for my grandmother who is in assisted living in Louisiana. My mom does all of my grandmother's finances, works with her attorney, checks her meds, talks with the doctors, and much, much more. She has been doing this the past two years.

My grandmother was one of the few women to enroll in med school when she was young (late 1930's). She met and fell in love with my grandfather, who passed six years ago, and gave up a career to become a wife and mother. A strong lady.

Recently, my grandmother fell and broke her pelvis. Since then my grandmother has given up control and has relied heavily on my mom. This has been a hard transition for all of us, but especially hard on my mom.

My mom visits my grandmother four to six times a year. (My mom retired to Maine.) Every time she visits, my mom spends nights pouring over paperwork and days doing errands for my grandmother. My mom has had a lot on her mind to say the least.

The stress that my mom is under was never so evident than at Christmas. My mom and I flew to Atlanta to spend the holiday with friends. We flew separately because of my work obligations. My mom flew out two days before me and I was to meet her at the hotel she was staying in.

When I arrived in Atlanta at ten p.m., I drove to the hotel. My mom was not checked in and no word was left as to where she was. I drove to my friend Maria's house knocking on the door as to not wake up the kids. She let me in with a confused look on her face.

M: Didn't your mom meet you at the hotel?

Me: No. No one was there. Why have you talked to her?

M: Yes. She said that she was going to meet you at the front of the hotel. She changed her mind and is staying at her friend's house. I have the number.

Me: She wasn't at the hotel. Nice of her to keep me informed. (I am normally sarcastic. More so after getting off a plane.)

M: Your mom said she was going to have the airline page you during your layover in Chicago.

Me: That's nice especially since I stopped off at La Guardia.

M: Eye roll. Call your mom.

There's more.

I had decided to drop off my rental early because for the rest of the holiday celebrations I would be with mom and she had her own rental.

Mom was to follow me to the airport to drop off the car.

She followed behind me the whole way.

Until....I turned into the rental place.

I stepped out of the car, got my receipt, and turned around.

No mom.

I waited and I waited.

And waited.

Then I called Aileen. She and Danny picked me up from the transit station. I left word for my mom at the house where we were staying and with Maria and with Maria's mom.

Two hours later my mom calls. She missed the turn off and couldn't call because her cell was dead. My mom figured that I would keep the car and no big deal.

Sigh.

I am grateful for my mom's faith in me and my ability to take care of myself, but...

You see the but there?

I love my mom. I know she's under tremendous stress and is in NO way normally like this. But...

Am I a bad daughter to have mixed emotions about going to visit her?

One of those Days

Ever have one of those days where no matter what you do you can't get out of your own way much less anyone else's?

I had just finished cursing the screw that stripped itself for no apparent reason. (adding this now as I still can't get stupid ass screw out of F***** wall) and giving it a rest, decided to get some errands done.

I went to the grocery store with the purpose of buying dishwashing soap. I just received a new dishwasher, for which I am overjoyed. I have been washing dishes by hand for four years. This has become my most hated chore to the point that I stopped cooking dinner and began microwaving pre-packaged foods instead.

As frequently happens at the store, I began shopping for everything else but the item I needed. Moving through the store cart in hand, every aisle I went down I seemed to have to move my cart out of someone's way. I said excuse me more times than I want to count.

The thing was I wasn't being dense. I moved my cart off to the side when browsing the shelves. I didn't stand in the middle of the aisle. However, every corner I came around and every aisle I went down there was someone coming the opposite way. Apparently I was in the wrong every time because of the pointed looks the person pushing the other cart would send me.

I had begun to move through the supermarket abjectly. About half way through my shopping, I started noticing that one lady kept appearing in the same aisles as me. She was one of the people I had said 'excuse me' to near the beginning of my grocery experience. I don't know why but I became desperate to avoid her.

I changed course and wound up in the flower section. Flowers would make me feel better. I picked out a pretty bouquet and resumed shopping.

Finally, I left the store packages in hand. I managed to remember the dishwashing liquid and some honey for the new chai tea I am trying. Not a bad ending.

Death to Life

I just received an email from one of my friends in California reminding me of a fundamental truth; don't wait to enjoy your life.

I met Brian at work. Brian, his wife Kathy and I became friends because of our shared good humor and love of baseball. Over the course of many work trips to California, I was grateful for their excellent company.

Brian and Kathy were scheduled to go to France last August. They canceled the two week trip due to the sudden illness of one of their closest friends. Their friend, Kelly, was rushed to the hospital for a mysterious illness that later claimed his life in September. (some friends may be struck, as I was, that we know someone with the same name.)

Brian was a co-executor of the will and was helping with the processing of Kelly's home when I saw Brian and Kathy in October on a two week business trip. The impact of Kelly's death has effected both Brian and Kathy tremendously.

As they talked about Kelly during my visit, I was reminded of my friend Aditya's sudden death three years before. I was also reminded to enjoy every minute you have with the people in life.

On my way home, I had a layover scheduled to see another friend of mine. When I saw him I gripped him in a bear hug, needing to affirm life. I never told him part of the reason for this ardent hello but somehow I don't think it matters. What matters is the acknowledgement. I made the most of the visit with my friend even though I was sick with hey fever.

When I got home, I made sure to acknowledge all my friends with similar affection. My friends know I love them but I needed to celebrate their lives. Sometimes I forget to do that taking my friends' existence for granted.

Thank you Kathy for the reminder that life is meant to be enjoyed and teaching me through your example.

Kiss Kiss Kisses

My friend Robin and I were talking about the stuff we enjoy most. Kissing is near the top or at the top of my list.

I like long slow kisses that last a lifetime. Kissing that leaves me breathless is the best. Short kisses out of the blue put a smile on my face. Secret kisses keep me warm for hours. I like going to sleep with a kiss almost as much as I love waking up to one. I love kissing in all its forms.

Kissing can be far more intimate than sex. In light of the intimacy factor, kissing for me is highly selective. (NOT more selective than sex.) Once I had kissed someone because I just wanted to know if the lips he was sporting tasted as wicked as they looked. Bad mistake. Why? 'Cause I had no real interest in the guy. Next time he went to kiss me I ducked and tried to control the disinterest on my face.

When I tell my guy friends this story, they look at me like I have grown an extra head. Girls get it though. Lesson learned here: you never kiss anyone you are not interested in. OK, like duh.

The subject once prompted me to do a survey. I asked friends how important kissing was in a relationship. The follow up question: does kissing become less important over time? Most surveyed said kissing was important in a relationship and that importance did not lessen much over time. (if you want exact statistics, you are odder than I am)

Again, if you think it's odd that I would take a survey, you could be right. However, a friend told me kissing was not very important in her relationship. I stood there with my mouth agape for.... what day is it? ... I still do not comprehend. So was born the survey out of this statement.

Kissing, to me, is better in a relationship. There always has to be that first kiss. Not to say that a first kiss is bad. First kisses can be very good, but are better when they happen with someone whom I've formed a connection with first.

I am going to go sigh for awhile in reflection.