April 19, 2010

Roughing It

So...here I sit...camping (lettin' that seep in like sweet sunshine on the first spring day after a long cold, grueling winter ).........*Crickets...literal ones*.................Uh huh, I said it. Gonna say it again "camp-ing." However-please don't go getting any grand ideas. When I say that I am camping "out"... there are no tents on the frigid,muddy ground-home to the creepy crawlys. Truly-in my spoiled by fluffy, cotton candy pink convenience- baby of three girls- mind set-there are only three solid reasons for sleeping in the dirt...1. You've enlisted in the military and are reporting for incognito, outdoor undercover duties. Your double agent status commands it...Don't think Jason Bourne or James Bond get to toss back unbecoming assignment destinations. Or...Unfortunately you're injured and couldn't get up and dust off if you chose to. If this is you-hang in there- help is on the way. We will discuss how you are able to read this, but not phone for help at a later date. All one sided kidding aside...Wait! One more for my fellow OCD afflicted Grey's fans...Perhaps you collapsed scouring the woods for Mc Dreamy's mother's wedding band that he pitched into the woods a moment of perfectly coiffed and mildly unshaven broodiness...If fiction were ACTUALLY as close to the ACTUAL as it often seems? That would be a likely reason for a dirty earth siesta. Cruel really. 2. Perhaps your eyes were hypnotized by the alluring twinkle of the mischievous midnight stars. Entranced- you were lulled to a sweet dreamless sleep in the precise spot where you lay...on your fluffy comfortably worn-red paisley quilt...or...Similarly, huddled in coziness- your heavy lids slow to a blink-less stop...while you wait to greet the sun as it's finger-like rays faintly trace their way up the twilight dim of the sky and with a kiss of its golden lips bathes the world in glimmering, gilded light . 3. Finally, um...the final dirt nap. Really the ONLY time dirt sleeping isn't optional. Unpleasant yes...but a clear, unarguable reason for sleeping in the dirt.
Thankfully none of those describe me and so...if I am subject to camping by force-or in the least, against my will-aka each and every time I go:)...it is in a heated camper with running water and electricity:) for the shortest sentence necessary.

Being dramatic(stick with what ya' know)-truly camping has it's bonuses.

1. Breathtaking scenery that I unaffectedly catch un-awed glimpses of daily. Camped tonight in the "wilderness" literally twenty minutes from my house. That view includes violet hued mountains wrapping the site like cradling arms-a fishbowl clear blue lake, capped flawlessly by an infinite water color palette of sky.

2. Got to watch a whole-nearly uninterrupted movie...*pinching myself* OUCH!...yeah- I don't quite believe it either.

3. All the snacks you eat are fat free when roughing it. Sorta like the two state rule (or whatever that is)-only with queso and smores made from leftover pink Easter peeps*rubbing pink sugar from phone keys.*

4. My Monkeys look like grubby little extras from Annie and Oliver Twist in turn...and it is a losing battle between the junk food, grime and me chasing two steps behind with a wipe...So I get to tell my OCD what for...for a change:).

5. Nothing to do...please keep in mind that this is a short-lived positive...(this native tends toward restlessness). When I say "nothing" I mean nothing of consequence. Knitting, reading, listening to Pink and painting ones toenails describes a productive evening in paradise...er...camping.

So...the owl is hooting-the coyotes howling, and I will be lucky to get the equivalent of a night nap. The fresh open air seemingly doesn't agree with me. If reoccurring camping insomnia is at all indicative of my lungs' druthers? Stale house air is their Dom Perignon.

Sweetest dreams Prettys. Hope your downy bed is more enticing than this sofa turned bed-type-thing...It could be worse, I could be attempting slumber on the converted table...mmm....comfy...Not exactly a princess (via Princess and the Pea)- but you don't have to be fragile to feel a pole through particle board.

Dare to live the dream.
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

April 16, 2010

Picking Your Battles or Picking a Fight

"The hardest battle you're ever going to fight is the battle to be just you."-Leo F. Buscaqlia

I tend to avoid wars. Not the huge, frighteningly realistic, big, political, bloody, literal wars- like the ones between countries and philosophies and religions...That is not the type of war to which i am referring.I abstain from the personal, emotional wars between myself and the people in my life. I am not a yellow bellied coward (would describe my skin as more... the 'color mocha'. As would Ricky Martin-Livin La Vida Loca...aye-yi-yiyi...*sigh* I HAD to have said that before-forgive me. Guilty pleasures-bygones....Also? Just fun to say 'yella bellied-"I'm gonna' shoot ya' down Jesse James"-Cher).

I WILL fight if I feel cornered and trapped, like I don't have options. And I certainly won't chew off my own foot to be free (cuz'? Ouch...and Not A Waitress Red...tastes awful-don't ask me how I know). Look out though- because I am apt to chew off someone else's foot if absolutely necessary. Really though? When facing a war-I generally opt to back slowly away. That however, only refers to the knock down, drag out, full on T-Bird-Jock style rumble...That is the only time intimidation, or cool heads...or whatever it is...prevail. It is the battle that I can't seem to walk away from...or refrain from rushing headlong into...or...may allegedly innately crave? Jury's out and descidedly unruffled by the details.

Going to depersonalize this pseudo-philosophy real quick...because I don't think it is just me. Think we all have this Shifty-Secrest-Type multi-personality disorder when it comes to conflict. The driving motivation behind our ultimately confusing and alternating passive aggressiveness/often full out scrappyness may be different...but we all do it...Every single self important one of us...Daily, sometimes hourly, occasionally instantaneously- we change our own personal rules of engagement (written in pencil of course). It's not intentional. Being the big full grown infants that we are...we get our hearts stepped on, our egos tromped, our confidence pinched...and depending...how tight our diaper is fastened that day...perhaps reliant on how warm and frequent our bottles...we act accordingly. None of us...especially me...like to feel like we are drawing the shortest straw. We don't voluntarily choose to allow anyone else be the boss of us. We hold fast-often justifiably...to the notion that we have earned the right to be the boss of ourselves...and when that "freedom" is threatened-when we feel that our individuality is in jeopardy? We bite back...sometimes drawing first blood. We certainly CAN be intimidating...backs arched and hissing...But is that what we really want? If we put those closest to us on the day to day defensive-aren't we truly creating the very atmosphere we are trying with such exaggerated futility to avoid? Yet...if we feel that someone is trying to bogart our "us-ness"...stifle our outgoing, independent, colorful, social butterfly, though often precocious inner child...is it suicide of the soul...to standby and watch it happen in the name of passivity?

If I had the answer...I would be Doctor CJ-faking a southern accent...and doling out cliched (for a reason), shiny headed, drawled wisdom like...

“It's better to be healthy alone than sick with someone else.”=Dr. Phil

All I know, is this...the line between picking my battles and picking a fight...is often erased or faded to near invisible oblivion by my big, clumsy-bully of a heart and choked out by my inner diva. And though I am not trying to duck responsibility, the heart of the matter...is my heart-in the matter. Not sure that made sense...but the shiny-stubborn...ugly-pretty, vulnerably lethal me...in me? At the end of the day...is what I have. It is the who...I am ultimately responsible for...and if you-or someone else has to lose a leg in the battle over my self preservation (even if I am not always lucid on EXACTLY who that is, or if in every second I feel she is worthy of the fight?) you should be certain that is a price you are willing to pay. Before you pick this battle...make sure the fight in your dog...can take my dog in the fight...or something.

Wow...done feigning deepness...Be a pal? Friends don't let friends... blog after 11pm on a Thursday night.

"I have had to fight like hell and fighting like hell has made me what I am"-John Arbuthnot Fisher

April 14, 2010

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Ask me anything http://formspring.me/CarlaJean126

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Ask me anything http://formspring.me/CarlaJean126

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March 14, 2010

That Thing You Do

Eccentricity has always abounded when and where strength of character had abounded; and the amount of eccentricity in a society has generally been proportional to the amount of genius, mental vigor, and courage which it contained.”

John Stuart Mill



Idiosyncrasies. We all have them...some of us possess more of these delightfully, pesky critters than others do. And for THOSE of us, we have given our idiosyncrasies more flattering lil' pet names like "color,it-factor, creativity,complexity, flavor, spice, our own personal brand of crazy"...and we learn to embrace them because they are woven into our ornate life's fabric. Besides, they aren't going anywhere without a battle, a lengthy, difficult battle we are likely to lose. Even if we are victorious, we are left lonely, simple, and well? dull. What kind of victory is that? Besides, we get used to them-like that friend, that beloved friend we all have one of. The one that wrapped around our heart like a weed and never let go...ever. And if you're anything like me...you have a set of coordinating idiosyncrasies, partially because the 'syncrasies' part of 'idiosyncrasies' feels like fluffy sweet whipped cream as it passes through my lips. I am kidding, but you have to admit that it is fun to say...(try it-you'll like it). The other reason to coordinate eccentricities? is because we simply HAVE to do things in pairs. Kidding again, well sorta...Nothing like a little OCD humor on a snowy spring Wednesday.

According to Wikipedia: Idiosyncrasy comes from the Greek 'idiosynkrasia' defined as: a peculiar temperament, habit of body, an individualizing quality or characteristic of a person or group, and is often used to express eccentricity or peculiarity

For those of us not elite or creatively ingenious enough for eccentricity, the most we can muster is neurotic. But eccentric sounds prettier, so let's stick with that...it is better for our all too sensitive psyche.

Now I am no psychologist. Nor do I see one professionally(the need of which is only slightly debatable), nor do I play one on TV. Yet I have come to this novice conclusion: we are all control freaks. Every, single, solitary one of us. As a direct result of our appetite for power (at least over our own lives),the less control that we have, the more we crave it. I suspect that our eccentricities developed or continue to develop as an innate need to maintain or pointlessly grasp at some sort of control. This is both feeble and ironic in a number of ways. When we feel as though we are not in charge (which let's face it-we usually aren't)our idiosyncrasies enhance, are suddenly switch blade sharp, become more defined...speak up (sometimes with an accent), multiply (like gremlins in water). Somehow these little habits and rituals-make us feel as though we are the boss...of something-of...anything. Again? This position of mine is grounded in mere personal observation, it is not at all rooted in any field of science. Consider yourself adequately disclaimered.<-Oops... I did it again. Made up another verb. Just one of the many services I offer...that there is no desire or need for...*sigh*

Funny thing about our eccentricities, is that they do not play well with (the idiosyncrasies of)others. This would be one of those sneaky little ironies that I mentioned previously. When we bring to mind the things that drive us batty about those around us on a daily (or every single solitary second) basis...it generally has everything to do with their idiosyncrasies. Those very same things people do that shape them into the objects of our affection, are identical to those aspects of them that on any given Sunday,would make us tear our hair out...if only we weren't so fond of it...if we hadn't grown so attached to our lovely locks- pun intended. And? Come back here-don't think you are getting off that easy. The endearing qualities that make you sparkle on a day kissed all over by sunshine, on a dismal,cloudy, got up on the wrong side of life-day...are like nails on the chalkboard of your loved ones'lives. Believe it. Sad-funny, nothing you can do about it funny. funny-'hey pot? This is kettle. You're black too'-funny.(FRIENDS-loosely quoted)

So the little things that your subconscious invents to make it feel all big man/she-man on campus, or woman/man about town? Regardless of your gender or location-or whether your subconscious mind opts to let your conscious mind in on its dirty little secret(s)...that thing you do (perhaps that list of things you do)...be it casual hair twirling, incessant fidgeting, absent minded pen flipping, the focused bottom lip nibble, the nonessential throat clearing, meticulous lining up of foods by color, that nervous little laugh, the blink so large that it is almost audible...the list is never ending, really. Like the song..."it just goes on and on my friend"...That thing (those things)? It's connected to you. You both inadvertently created it and non-directly keep it around-for a reason. Something about its unrelenting presence soothes your soul-no matter how superficially. However, what eases your spirit like a Valentino couture gown...(of course I am taking a confident stab at this. If you happen to have a spare, in grown woman size-I'm your girl)may very well scathe another's soul like a marathon of super sappy, poorly acted Lifetime movies, or a marathon of The View. These traits cause one person to love you, and another to flee you...Sometimes it causes the desire for both simultaneously in the same individual...and that is just confusing...and disorienting.No good can come of that. And you, you should know ALL about it. Empathize, because those same people's eccentricities evoke a similar reaction in you. Best advice? When you awake on that stormy day, and feel that you're gripping your eccentricities with the ferocity of a Bengal tiger gripping a medium rare cut of prime rib...stay inside and draw the curtains. And if that's not possible? Limit yourself to yes or no answers and deep nose breathing. Because on those days-your idiosyncrasies are after the jugular and the prey they seek just may be the traits you USUALLY love in your people...Just like "they" always say..."If you can beat em...tie and gag them until they are fit for human consumption..." And if "they" don't say that, they should.

“The surest defense against Evil is extreme individualism, originality of thinking, whimsicality, even / if you will / eccentricity. That is, something that can't be feigned, faked, imitated; something even a seasoned imposter couldn't be happy with.”-Joseph Brodsky

Our ambition should be to rule ourselves, the true kingdom for each one of us; and true progress is to know more, and be more, and to do more. -Oscar Wilde

February 10, 2010

Debunking the V-Day Debacle

Valentines Day...We love it, or we love it not? Personally,I think many of us love, loving it not...Here's the scoop-

St. Valentine was a Priest, martyred in 269 at Rome and was buried on the Flaminian Way. He is the Patron Saint of affianced couples, bee keepers, engaged couples, epilepsy, fainting, greetings, happy marriages, love, lovers, plague, travellers, young people. He is represented in pictures with birds and roses.-Wikipedia

Love it or loathe it...still like death, taxes and another failed romance via the Bachelor,it is an inevitability. There's no use trying to stop it from coming.

"Every shmoop down in shmoop-ville loved V-day a lot"...Seussy/Seinfeld/Sorta...

I for one, have an affinity for Valentines Day. Of course I am under no pressure whatsoever-so that may have something to do with my affection for this particular holiday. Also...I find ruby red and pretty paper,and rich, dark chocolate supremely delicious...so yeah, pretty much...V-Day's a win,win win...And yet I know it can be stressful for some of you. So out of l-o-v-e, I am going to dig down deep to the very bottom of my limited resources in an attempt to help de-vilify VD (aka Valentines Day) just for you..

1. Single is a status-not a death sentence-

So you're single. It is no different on the 14th of February than it is on the 13th or the 15th, or the 22nd of June...Why should it be? So embrace it...celebrate your independence. There is no expectation held for you on this day whatsoever.Insert your ridiculously giant sigh of relief here, because that poor defeated soul you see wandering the aisles of the supermarket puppy-like and glassy-eyed with a cardboard red heart full of non-delicious candies in one hand and the last cellophane suffocated wilted roses in the other? He would swap you spots in a heartbeat. This I promise you. V-Day is about love...so share the warm and fuzzies with the peeps you love. Drink a little wine, have a little fun, get down tonight-get down tonight. Being single is one tiny aspect of who you are, it doesn't define you. By no means should you try to change your single status in the name of V-Day. There is no conceivable way that will end positively...Remember the Valentine's Day Massacre? Actually was mob related and had more to do with swimming with fishes than pink hearts and winged cherubs-but you get the picture, right? Madness/broken hearts/machine guns...not pretty.

2.For the Real-

Girls, gurls, girlz...*Motioning with finger for you to come closer. Whispering*...I am sorry to say this, but when it comes to V-Day-you are going to have to get over it...not ALL of it-just the part with the inflated, outlandish, Austen-romance type expectations. You have to-or you WILL be disappointed. That is unless you are dating or married to Mr.Darcy...which you aren't. Men THAT spectacular only exist in fiction...and are written by women. We've been over this...Give up the ghost and give your poor guy a break...The kind of break that real live men deserve from the sometimes too real you...so don't go gettin haughty. You are no Elizabeth Bennet either.

It is okay for you to expect your beau to remember Valentine's Day...For heaven's sake you cannot turn on the radio or the television without being bombarded with adverts for chocolates, flowers...yadda, yadda, yadda. So unless he's Amish-(in which case, you have a whole other set of issues to deal with-going on dates in wagons, trying to get the horse smell out of your hair,etc) he knows. But beyond his acknowledgment in some form-any form (grunting and mumbling included)...surrender the silly dream. Admit to yourself that your Valentine expectations may be a pinch unrealistic. And? that some of your anxiety about whether he will "show up" for V-Day has more to do with cubicle competition, than anything else. You know as sure as you dress more for your friends, than you do for him-that our gender is all about comparison and competition. Whether we admit it or not...there is a small(hopefully minuscule)part of us that returns to our slightly insecure, somewhat catty high school self in honor of Valentine's Day. Some of us are, for just this one day secretly concerned with what our friends in the office will think of us if we close out Valentine's Day balloon-less, rose-less, cookie-less, singing telegram-less(has anyone actually gotten one of these? Anyone whose phone number doesn't start with a 444 prefix...aka outside of TV-Land? Reminds me of Carmine from Laverne and Shirley)...and thus, what? Loveless? Completely CARAZY as that is, many of us put exactly this kind of pressure on ourselves, on our significant others and on our relationships...All in the name of February the 14th. It is just one day...one that you share and celebrate with everybody else...keep it in perspective. Oh and P.S.- Lead by example. If you are a girl who loves a grand gesture, then you need to be mindful of the golden rule. Nowhere does it say that romance is the man's responsibility. It is okay- no...it is necessary for you to spread the love as well.

It Really Is The Thought That Counts:

Fellas, I can only speak for myself and for the girls that I know...and I know quite a few-but an ounce of thoughtfulness is worth a lifetime of grand gestures. What I mean is this, whatever you do for VD...or any day...do it with heart. Show attention to detail. Demonstrate that she is important to you by knowing what makes her smile. Whether it be making her coffee just the way she likes it (too much flavored creamer,dash of splenda) a post it that says "I love you" tucked away for her to find in the midst of the day's din, the smallest gesture is often felt the deepest. I know, it sounds funny- but I have yet to meet the girl that prefers two dozen red roses to a single orchid, sunflower,or Gerber daisy. Simply put, even on a commercial holiday celebrated by millions-we just want to know that we're unique...to you. So please get off your Anti V-Day Soap Box. Chances are, you don't shower your girl with affection and attention. You assume that she "just knows" the way that you feel about her. Yeah...she needs to be shown, and then reminded, later confirmed... and often reassured. There is no destination-this is an ongoing journey. Capisce? No need to break the bank, or to even spend a single cent. Seriously-never ever jewelry. Time and effort are both free and priceless simultaneously. So even if we say "Valentines Day is commercial and impersonal" we silently hope that this is one of the times you won't listen. And we won't tell you this-because while you were in Direct Boot Camp, we were at Mysterious School learning discretion. We were taught that frankness is unladylike, unbecoming even. And deep down, as difficult as this may be for you to comprehend, we believe that if you REALLY know us, if you TRULY love us...you have unspoken knowledge of what pleases us. As adults most of us have come to the harsh realization that this is not exactly the way relationships, or men operate...Still inside, we believe that they should. Hoping against hope-and logic that you really SEE us...

So...when VD rolls around this year, skip the hype and go for the heart. Whether you be male or female, single or in a relationship...Valentine's Day is about feeling and sharing and showing the love. What could be bad in that? So, don't sweat it, you've got this covered.


To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering one must not love. But then one suffers from not loving. Therefore to love is to suffer, not to love is to suffer. To suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love. To be happy then is to suffer. But suffering makes one unhappy. Therefore, to be unhappy one must love, or love to suffer, or suffer from too much happiness. I hope you're getting this down.-Woody Allen

February 1, 2010

Spitefully Happy

“I like to write when I feel spiteful; it's like having a good sneeze”
D.H. Lawrence


Um...so according to Mr. Lawrence, this blog is my "sneeze" of sorts.I suppose writing is like sneezing...because sneezing and venting both serve as a terrific release, sort of like dancing it out. Okay-so here goes the illusive point...This is not the bubbling over with fiery red volcanic smokey, lava-like-spite I am addressing here. Rather than possessing full blown spite,in order to get the picture let's toss in just a pinch of stubborn...maybe a handful or twelve-full of hardheadedness (yes I know that is JUST like stubborn)...you catch my drift. So to call a spade a spade, a duck a duck, or a spite a spite-as the case may be...my MO is NOT vengeance but rather,to pull out all the stops to slyly, persuasively and if need be-ferociously prove my point of view when it is in regards to something I feel strongly about...or to disprove someone else's (only when absolutely necessary-as it is a bull in a china shop, stifling, maniacal point of view that attempts to stomp out all those in its oppressive path))...thus bringing the Napoleonic position to its' timely end with a Die-Hard style vengeance. Yippee ki-yay...you know the rest...tic-tic-tic-tic boom.

In this case, my obstinate nature is being applied to happiness and the spite that is created when I believe someone is trying to steal my happiness or the joy of someone else away. Optimism, or at least guarded optimism is crucial to me...and not always easily sought,found or maintained. Still, I believe that aside from extreme cases, "You're as happy as you decide to be".And I CHOOSE to be happy, giddy even (not in the in your face, "are you for real?" irritating sort of happy, but the subtly, quietly giddy extra foam, double shot in your latte brand of happy)-and I want you to be shiny with me...pretty please? Life is so much more deliciously worth the living that way,la vida dulce...as life was intended to be.

Unfortunately there are Gloomy Gus fun thieving-types (aka the previously mentioned dinnerware crushing oxen) out there who do not see things in quite the same sunny way that we do. They skulk and lurk around like ragey little storm clouds-thundering and rumbling. And they will not be satisfied to merely rain out their own pathetically sad parades, so they turn on yours. They derive immense pleasure (in the form of misery loves company) from raining on your pretty little parade as well. They view it as a petty victory of darkness over light. They want to get your goat...so don't let them have it. Hold tight to your goat and don't let go-so what if you get a little wet. You're wash and wear.

So as far as the sun robbing ways of the wet blankets go...I won't stand for it and neither should you. Put your stiletto strapped or work book clad tootsie down (your choice) and stand firm. But through the kind of action that silently screams volumes and/or razor sharp words if absolutely necessary, I tell them to "Pedal their pessimism elsewhere-I have no place to put it. Sulk and skulk don't go with my decor." Miserable doesn't fit between the beta bowl and the bust of Shakespeare.

*DISCLAIMER* This is not to claim that I never have dark,angst riddled Alanis-type moments where I want to lull around in despair while wearing too much black...but just for a few. That gets old lightning fast(ka-chow).


SO when those crabby clouds invade my space, they're forced to navigate my mile wide stubborn streak to get at my bliss-no one has ever made it across to the other side. You see, my day can find trouble all on it's own- I certainly don't need any assistance from the Oscar department.

And so we arrive at the destination spite. When there is the sense that someone is trying to tie their twelve ton attitude to my little red wagon-I revolt with unchecked, bubbly jubilation. Even if I "have to fake it til I make it"-which I often do. The more the monsters growl and snarl, the more I laugh and sing...maybe even toss in some *jazz hands*for flair. Nothing squashes doom and gloom like razzle dazzle. Eventually, though these trolls rarely change...they are sent packing...grumbling and rachus shmachus-ing to themselves, red faced and fuming. Try it-it really does work. And it is a win-win. You feel better and the nasty nay saying gnomes are sent packing. Sparkle is once again restored to pleasant-ville.

So there. My joy can beat up their glaring, unpleasant half empty and so can yours.

Heaps of coal, getting more bees with honey, what have you...Adios Angry Amos.

Aaa-chooo...

*Smiley Sigh* What do ya' know D.H.-I do feel better-thanks.

You?

January 13, 2010

You Give Change A Bad Name

Many people look forward to the new year for a new start on old habits.
~Author Unknown

Here we are...two and a half weeks into the New Year. 20-10...WHERE oh where is my AMAZING Get Ready Machine as promised in the Jetsons??? Sigh...Can you imagine??? I actually CANNOT conceptualize what I would do with the endless hours that I spend getting myself, or someone else ready to go someplace. With ALL that time why,I could...I could...solve the energy crisis (laughably not likely) or...take up marathon running (prominently preposterous)...um...keep up with the Kardashians....hmm...yeah...just-no thank you. Regardless, I would figure SOMETHING out...something delicious. It is a VERY good thing both Hanna AND Barbera are gone. Otherwise, they would SO be getting sued by some crazy cake munching American tizzied over the delayed delivery of pretend said wonder machine-right...about...NOW! What?!? I didn't MEAN me...Anyway, I prefer taking my crazy juiced-not caked. So aside from feeling obliged to snag a pair of metallic go-go boots and act as a stand in Bond Girl(007-20-10)-um...cause THAT girl fantasy knocks Barbie out cold...and heeled knee high boots in a garden full of glorious shades? Kick plastic stiletto's lil glossy pink toosh...). What else can we do while waiting for our space cars to arrive? (I'll take mine in gun metal gray with a sparkly finish please.) You know the answer to that question as well as I do. We can toast the bubbly to a new year. We can resolve in this new year with its new chances to make promises to ourselves that we have no true intention of keeping. Like when we set our clocks ahead in the mad hope that we will miraculously shave eight minutes off our best time. Imagining that we will leap out of bed promptly and gracefully. That our coffee will perk three minutes and twenty six seconds quicker and somehow taste richer, and our right shoe won't hide out under the darkest corner of the bed on the day that our hair took extra time to not turn out exactly the way we'd hoped. Then and only then will we magically be prompt-early even because we have "tricked ourselves" into it. It doesn't work that way though, does it? Because even in our usual flurry of activity we are smarter than we give ourselves credit for. In that panicked moment, when we glance frantically at the clock-we breathe a mammoth sigh of relief because we know that we have twelve minutes to race to said undisclosed location...and we also know we STILL won't make it-that STILL won't be enough-because we have an internal aversion to precise promptness. Time is many things:sneaky, shifty, evil... A friend? It is not. Yet still, like the clock "trick",we resolve. Every year, we resolve. We maintain our relentless, often foolish optimism and when the clock strikes twelve on the new year-we vow to ourselves that we will tame our cravings, minimize our faults, fade our idiosyncrasies, be more patient,more productive, shop less, be less impulsive, less sensitive, more brave, and less well...you.

So why do resolutions generally fall flat on their ray of sunshine faces before we witness the passing of January 23rd? It's not because we all couldn't use a little touching up or a tweak here and there. Nor is it because we should in any way refrain from bettering ourselves-expanding our often limited horizons.If we stop learning, cease to experience, retreat from challenges-we grow stale. We stop living, and just exist.Blah! Who wants that? If your life role could be played adequately by an extra? You're doing it wrong-and we all slack periodically-but there is a difference between a phase and a practice...although the one, effortlessly grows into the other. There are a few sabotaging factors when it comes to setting resolutions and seeing them through.

1. First, we make unreasonable requests of ourselves. In order for a resolution to be do-able by you, it has to ACTUALLY be-well, do-able. You cannot lose twenty three pounds in a week, quash seventeen years of bad habits in a day, or fix your faulty relationships with a crinkle of your nose. Unless you have a super turbo, tres magnifique wand? If you do- can I borrow it?? Set fair expectations for yourself.

2. The second fail factor is that we often set not one resolution, but multiple resolutions. Rome wasn't built in a day...and your massive reconstruction could take years and will likely overwhelm you at times. It took you a llloooonnnggg time to take on the unsightly traits, habits, pounds, dead weight in the form of sketchy time, energy and emotion-suck...it will likely take a lllooonnnggg time to unload them. Give yourself sufficient time...and take your resolutions like you take your days-one at a time. P.S.- if you drop your cute resolution ball one day? Pick it up and try again the next, don't be in a rush to retire it.

3. The third reason resolutions are well, often less than resolute? We don't accent the positive. As creatures that often view change as a negative, we inexplicably tend to focus on the "don't", rather than the "do". Okay so maybe this is another Jedi Mind trick (Geek-Chic)-but this one may actually work. Instead of "don't drink soda" try "drink more water"...Focusing on the things you want to do-could prove to be the missing piece to the positive alteration puzzle. Maybe you were just waiting for you to ask yourself nicely.

4. Finally, not to get all Shrink-y on you- but seemingly the changes we often want to make are symptomatic of deeper issues. If the deeper issue is not addressed, the symptom will continue. Perhaps an uglier, far less pleasant one will take its place-while the real cause grows and festers...(gross word-fester).Would be a bit like having stomach cancer and rather than investigating that further, od-ing on Pepto and Prevacid in an attempt to alleviate your discomfort. May make you feel better, but the thing you aren't looking at could wrap around you, poisoning you and possibly lead to your emotional, mental or physical demise...dun-dun-dun...I apologize for the dark turn. Aka- Get to the root so you don't get weedy.

Whoop-there it is...Heading into this new year of 20-10 clad in mini-dress or tux take your pick (Bond-ref again)let's by all means, get a little shinier, smarter, smilier and wiser. But unless we want our resolutions to turn out like another sad lil season of the Bachelor (they're not finding happily ever after THAT way, any more than MAC is having a Free Fab Eye Shadow Day...not gonna'happen-never,EVER,never)let's just not get crazy-er with our hope for change. Hope and change-both noble endeavors the one aiding and abetting the other. But? we already possess the shiny, smart, smiley, wise...they were gifted, some earned through blood loss, sleep loss, tear loss. It is the "er" we are seeking. So toss, delete, burn your list of how not to be yous...and pull a redo. Try making a list of the things you want to see in yourself, those qualities that you see if you squint, and make a plan of how to do it better...hence the "er" list...Ready? let's get "er" done.

“For last year's words belong to last year's language and next year's words await another voice."-T.S. Eliot

January 4, 2010

A Hermit-ess New Year's Eve

"Should old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind...lalalalalalalala in days of auld lang syne." (By the way, I looked it up. It means: long,long ago, or days gone by. Thank you Wiki!)

...Oh the songs drunken people slur...

Well? I have Munchkins and finding a sitter on New Year's Eve is like finding a Kevin Costner movie where he doesn't play himself-it simply doesn't happen. My favorite though? Is the film where he plays the washed up athlete. Maybe you have seen it? It was either called Bull Durham, Tin Cup, or For The Love of the Game-not sure which (wink, wink). Also, I have no desire to go downtown. No unearthed internal hunger to pay twenty bucks only to park a mile away and have intoxicated phrat-like strangers breathe jager-nacho breath down my neck or vomit in my Choo's in a sardine crowded bar blaring bad music, at ear drum splitting volume. Alright...that is wishful thinking-the Choo's - not the vomit or the techno. So generally speaking, I prefer to spend Amateur Night-aka New Years Eve...indoors.

Should I miss the good old days of celebrating downtown? I can just drink one martini too many and slur nonsensically to the puggle in my poorly lit front room while dancing a bit too freely to Brick House- problem solved. Also, it is winter and it's cold...If I am going to venture out at night in frigid temperatures? I need an advance guarantee that my efforts will be more than warranted. Always thought it was more fun to get ready to go out on New Year's than it was to actually go out...similar to prom.Yes? WOW! I am becoming a bar snob in my slightly less than super young years. I still like to have fun, delight in painting the town "I'm Not a Waitress-Red"...just any night BUT New Years Eve. Also...think that I was maybe twenty four-when I developed a serious case of the Stop-Touching-Me's in relation to small enclosed areas...not conducive to the club scene, Black Friday, or visiting my mother. Why is it that mom's do that? The preening thing. I am not a monkey, not a toddler...nor is my face crying out for a slobber wash-it is called a sink-and I have one...running water and all. Look Mom, MAGIC! Well it is not THAT bad, just that my mom- whom I love...seems to have forgotten all about my personal space and um...how to not ask inappropriate questions. Still trying to find the app for that.HELP???!!

So the long and the short of it...Spent New Year's Eve with the Fam at the Chinese Buffet (Moo-moo. Sneeze guards and cattle calls... Yes I Know) it is Boy 6's favorite eatery. Had plans to take them to the Squeakqual...but apparently Monkey Man chomped one too many pot stickers and tossed his fortune cookies...all over his unbuttoned jeans. Again with the yak-factor...sorry. Perhaps it is just obligatory for this particular holiday? So instead headed home for G-Force. The Gerbil movie with the Black Eyed Pea soundtrack...and the bearded satchel guy from Hangover-strange combo...but whateva. Made me realize that every danceable song of 2009 was cut by the Black Eyed Peas or Lady Gaga...side note. Then later, watched Fight Club...and pretended it was 1999. How I have not seen it until now, and how no one has managed to blow (pun intended) the ending-is beyond me. Let's not examine the innumerable items also included on the "Beyond CJ List" okay?

When that was over, tuned in for the obligatory ball drop in New York City. First, I miss Dick Clark and think he has been so brave and classy through all of his health issues and I love that he still has a presence on New Year's Rockin' Eve. Second, I am not sure why...but Ryan Secrest hardly seems to be the man for the job. Aside from the fact that it is STILL called Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin Eve. I feel sort of mean, but Ryan reminds me of that boy in high school who went stag to Sadie Hawkins because no girl was worthy of his not-so quippy jargon or would allow enough room in his mom's wood paneled station wagon for his over inflated ego to ride shotgun...IF that guy had existed. Guess I refuse to like him because he clearly likes himself and his off the chart cheese factor enough for the rest of us. Think with all his dough he could hire a decent stylist and buy a shirt that fits. ANYWAY... there were also performances by...Daughtery, J-Lo in a black lace cat suit that would not have looked good on anyone-or it WOULD have looked fab on her...She should call for her fashion consultants head on a blinged out platter. Oh! And the Black-Eyed Peas!!!...*Pausing for surprised gasp* Mazel tov!

And that was pretty much it. That? Is how this Hermit-ess spent New Year's Eve. Chinese, Gerbils, Decade Old Movies viewed for the first time, Lil dancin it out to Boom Boom Pow and some vino. Red-of course....No complaints whatsoever.

Where were you when the year slipped out? Raising the roof...or huddled up beneath it? Regardless, I hope that it was worth it's weight in confetti and included a cardboard tiara and flat champagne. After all, we (or at least you) deserve the very best.

*Tossing you a Hallmark card*

December 16, 2009

Blow Out Your Candles...

Happy Birthday to you, this is your ddaayyyy...on this day for you, we're gonna' love you in every waaay. This is your day, your ddaaayy. Happy Birthday-to you, to you,to you, to you-Happy Birthday to you..." New Kids on the Block...Oh the tween drama, tear soaked , Love's Baby Soft scented fantasies...

Another year, another birthday. Can I just say? And don't say no- cause I am going to anyway...That birthdays are the VERY, berry best! Especially the birthdays of those that you adore. Being on both the giving and reciprocating end of a whole month of constant "I love yous" kisses, coffee, back rubs,lip gloss...and yes...getting one's way with more regularity is a definite perk...simply cannot be beat. It's a win-win really. And perhaps by "ones'" I really mean mine...and perhaps, by "perhaps"...I mean indubitably. Sorry, but who doesn't like getting their way? If you said "not me" I call "oh no you di-int"-I love you anyway, *kisses*...but embrace it...Pretend it's Gerard Butler in his ginormous boots, beard and 300 robe(rrrreerrrr), or a Victoria's Secret Angel (um...flutter, bounce?)Take your pick and hang on tight. Courage of your convictions and all that...

We have been over this, if we just sought and received our own way all of the time we would be grubby heinous monsters, or spoiled celebs-same dif (more phrases that don't make sense). But it is human to want our own way and as long as it doesn't cross the lines of reason or burst anothers' bubble-it is even alright...or splendiferously delectable to get what you want. If you never, ever get your way you end up like a powerless little puppy tied just short of a juicy steak. That is sad and cruel. Nobody looks good in constant defeat. Nobody. Just ask...___________. Hahaha well see, I can think of LOTS of examples here-but can't think of anyone I carry enough animosity for to call a LOSER- outright...So...use your imagination and fill in the blank your own precious self. In fact, I think that is why I hated the game SORRY! so much. Man I detest losing!...Plus...no one is REALLY sorry in that game. Should be called SO NOT SORRY... Oh the point again...pesky lil thing...always trying to allude me. So the song, the goofy hat, the candles, blow out...*eyes shut, pucker up and hoooooo...wish*....

THAT is the point....found it. Birthdays are fun...as a rule...There is icing and music and a little love fest and then you are forced to make an obligatory wish that you don't believe in...Just like you don't wish on stars but when you see one free falling slow and glittery from a velvety azure sky, you just can't help yourself. Generally speaking, while we are playing pretend. I figure why not go for the whole pinata?...So I wish in massive,parade float sized,fluffy blush marshmallow style cliches..."Happily ever afters, infinite wellness, gilded sun shiny skies, smiles for miles, gobs and gobs of sparkles, red wine fountains, and dark chocolate for breakfast...Maybe ultra pretty shoes and a great pigment shadow that stays put even in the sleet...chips and salsa of course...plus the new Glambert (aka Adam Lambert) CD". And outside of ranting blog posts, I don't breathe a word of it to anyone, well, cuz you're not supposed'ta...or else it won't come true...

Guess what? In small doses it will all come true-even if you tell your mama and she shouts it out to the neighborhood. The sun will shine and our hearts will overflow. We will be well while eating decadently dark chocolate, sipping maroon hued vino from big round glasses and being Mary (or whomever you wish to be that day...And? I know it's really "merry")...Even the evil we wished against will come to pass...We will wear one ultra glam shoe...but the other one will drop and we will cry tears and we will lose jobs, friends and ideals. Dreams will come true and hopes will shatter...It's all a trade off...and it is all life...and it is all sweet-even if bitterly so. If we can sing and dance our way through it (no one-but no one did this with more charismatic panache than Gene Kelly. Shout out-*jazz hands*)...feel the music, smell the emotion, taste the goodness, hear the sound that our arms make when they are thrown open to embrace it all...Maybe just maybe we will be wearing something really fabulous as we recover from our stumbles and trips...and perhaps there will be big strong arms to set us back onto our feet when we fall. If not? Grab a wall...or chair...almost the same (although almost, isn't quite there)So...the gist is this...

What makes birthdays, birthdays- is how truly remarkable it is that you have people in your life who gather around you and celebrate that you were born. That you are loved enough that someone is thankful for you. That is the gift. Everything else is icing...hopefully the type of butter cream frosting that melts on your tongue after weighing it down with its sugary richness...And so *whispering in hushed tones* I think from now on, every year-I am going to wish for another birthday and maybe another person at my party...

One year it won't come true, but hopefully I will be dancing for a long, long time...singing badly and proudly...maybe with Glam-bert screaming back up in guy liner, manscara and hip-gloss...just because that would be glammerific fabiliciousness.

Not sure if I am early or late? But a Very Happy Birthday to You Too!
*Confetti-laced hugs*

December 3, 2009

The Things That People Say

"My bad, SNAP, sweet, sick, seriously?, tight, phat,dawg, S'up?, homey, cool, man, dillly-o."

This is just a small sampling really of the slang buffet we have all grazed upon based on our moo-cow instincts to turn to the herd when looking for ways to pepper our self expression. I didn't miss the irony there, so I KNOW that you didn't. *Flashing neon I-R-O-N-I-C*...(Yes Alanis, it REALLY is...So-new verse?) Here is a short list of my current favorite phrases and words that have invaded our vernacular like little green aliens in a trailer park armed with probes...(That? is another day's study). So enjoy, hopefully laugh a little and feel my pain...

1. I'm not gonna' lie or To tell you the truth:
I hear this far more frequently than I care to, and I always cringe(hopefully imperceptibly-or else? There goes my mysterious ways). The reason for my disdain?
SHOULDN'T that go without saying? If one feels the need to put a header on WHEN they are actually telling the truth. Are we then to assume that everything else they have to say is the equivalent of Paul Bunyan and his big blue ox choppin' down cherry trees in an Easter Bunny suit and fibbin' about it to his pa-aka a hot steamy pile of...um...untruth??? To me, when I hear that? What really comes across is this:"Typically my nose reaches from here to Texas Pinocchio-style, cuz' I am a big,fat,bald-faced liar...but special just for you today *tossing cliff's notes to My Personal Truth* I am going to highlight the unwelcome semi-sincerity that occasionally spills from my lips against my will.Merry Christmas!" Honestly(<-did you get it, did you get it?) if anything, maybe we should spin the phrase to..."Hate to lie"...hopefully for most of us, untruth is the true rarity, not the unwelcome bullying intrusion of the truth on our otherwise perfectly dishonest existence.

2. Botched Words and Cliches:

None of us is perfect. Some of us...(I mean some of you) are closer than others...Laugh please...I am... We have ALL done this...Hopefully for our ego's sake we caught and remedied ASTAT. Mine was "For All Intensive Purposes"...Um...which in ACTUALITY is something that makes sense..."For All Intents And Purposes"...This is like confession for the verbally impaired...I imagine...How many "Our Fathers" for failing Cliches and Phraseology 101? Some of my favorites are: Supposibly,(aka Supposedly), Did a 360...(180?) Otherwise? Right back where you started from. Irregardless (regardless), Could care less (so you care a little then? COULDN'T care less)...The list goes on, and on and on. My mother is a professional Cliche Killer. Her fave is "We'll play it by year" That is a LONG time to make a plan! Mother...it is play it by EAR...as in take it as it happens...naturally...like the way music flows from the fingers of a musician...She could fill a book...kind of adorable, actually...once you get past the knee jerk nail on the chalk board wince. Cliches are cliche for a reason. Little anecdotes that have been proven true repeatedly through life experience and tested by history. So think through the ones that you use regularly-if they don't make sense...you may need to Google it. Check out Cliche's For Dummys from the liberry? (That was SO on purpose). You're welcome.

3. The Made Up-or-Hybrid Word-Name:

I am not only an abuser of this, but quite delight-if not SAVOR- creating my own language...All the better for us to understand each other my dear. You know...the way some of us add "ish or y" to the end of words to give them more flavor. Hybrid words are words like fantabulous (fantastically fabulous)...double the goodness, I say. The key here is to know your audience. Do not bust out your creatively, well-formed, best of both worlds language at a job interview or at your parents dinner party. Please just trust me...Save it for the beauterific, fabby-chic you choose to pass your non-laboring hours with...Why waste it on the simpletons? Another joke of course...Oh!But the Bennifer, Tom-Kat, Rob-sten junk...please, please GO AWAY...No, no...RIGHT NOW!!!

4. The Gross Overstatement:


Amazing,incredible,awesome,fantastic,gorgeous,insane,super,fabulous,beautiful,unbelievable,impressive!!!

All of these are handy pretty lil words that enhance what we have to say when something deserving comes along...However? The way that some of us toss them around as if they were words like...I don't know, alright, whatever, you know what I mean, okay, fine,swell, neato? We are quickly becoming the Peeps Who Cried AMAZING...Everybody in town runs to see what we are so crazy fired up and frenzied about. When they see that it was just say...a cup of lukewarm gas station coffee, or a BOGO trip to Payless Shoe Source...they eventually stop running when we tizzy. So what happens when we experience something truly breathtakingly unique and we want to share it with the class? Then due to our over exaggeration in the past -we have to wallow around in our blissy sumblimity (made up words....see? SO fun!) all by our lonesome. So don't cry FABULOUS...unless something is truly...well... fabulous. Easy peasy? Yes! Lemon squeezy.

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So...Whoop-there it is! The What To Say, How Not To Say It, And Whom To Shout It Out To...According To CJ....

Slang, phrases,and cliches can be fun...but Puh-leez be careful....Be selective! The goofy, freaky tweaky words you choose to express yourself, today? Become the neon scrunchie,linebacker shoulder pads of tomorrow. Take heed Shinys. And? Hopefully I avoided stepping on your tongue...um toes...whatever...

November 29, 2009

Thanking the UnThanked

Thanksgiving is one of my very favorite holidays. This could be due to the fact that I am not the one cooking the turkey and tending to the numerous needs it shockingly maintains for a non-living, non-lovely creature. High maintenance is putting it mildly. It may as well have every cosmetic enhancement-attachment known to man, drive a Bentley and have a Heffy...aka sugar daddy. Or maybe Thanksgiving is so cozily intoxifying to me because sweet potatoes(canned, plus brown sugar, orange juice, maple syrup, marshmallows, oven...done and done) and (store bought)flaky on the outside, gooey on the inside rolls(generally served heated and in a basket masquerading-believably as homemade) are not too much of a strain on my acute lack of domesticity. Maybe it is all the pungent scents that fill the house; the tart of fresh cranberries, the sugar-nutty scent of pecan pie, the smell of wood crackling on the fire. Perhaps it's the rediscovered Christmas Cd's caroling melodically in the background. It could be the thrill of the football blaring on the television, or the sun burning stubbornly through the chilled fall air. Maybe it is the crunch of gold, ruby and amber colored leaves under my boots. Whatever the reason? I am thankful for Thanksgiving. Of course the togetherness is nice and we are all thankful for the heaped blessings we have like home and family, friends,health, food...not to be mistaken for health-food...Just so we're clear...that is a curse and not a blessing. As I was sitting post consumption (no tofu or granola in site) in my L-Tryptophan induced dreamlike haze...my mind took a little detour.I started to think about some of the things I am thankful for...things and people that may otherwise go un-thanked.

Okay...so here is the list I generated on my brief, familiar trip to Random-ville.

1. I am thankful for the orange-red poppies that bloom in my neighbors front yard during the sweltering summer months. They may as well be shiny-the way they grab my gaze as I stroll past their house. Not quite sure that I have experienced poppies outside of the fiery field in the Wizard of Oz that lulls Dorothy and her Friends into a dreamy sleep. But this little patch of poppies, on this simple suburban street, in this two-horse town, in my little corner of the world...is beauty flower-ified. There is a quote that says "I would rather have flowers on my table than diamonds on my neck." I wouldn't be mad at either, but I definitely would rather have poppies in my neighbors yard than to suddenly develop a grassy green, soil-brown and wormy thumb. Although the poppies? They do gloriously beckon me to do so in their oh-so vivid "get some of us all your own" bursts of crimson and mandarin.

2. Okay so this is pretty lame, I realize. And I apologize for aiding the spread of consumerism like the small pox. I CAN resist Shmarshmucks MOST of the time. However, until the Starbucks Holiday Flavors arrive? Neither does the Christmas Season...officially. A friend of mine aptly describes their holiday coffees as "Christmas in a Cup".Be it gingerbread, eggnog, peppermint mocha...(the list goes on) have yourself alotta lattes...and you will be thankful too-EVEN if you have to make yourself an island of solidarity with your no-name joe, drunk black. Brewed via recycled filter, sipped roguely from your sad lil ugly chipped mug until next Christmas...as java penance for your herd-like Christmas coffee gluttony. Just Do It...now enter cheesy, quippy commercialism...sorry. I'm so sorry...

3. Chugga-chugga-choo-choo- Enter the goofy train. I am thankful for music and how much it enriches our lives...as a non-singer, non-dancer, non-musician...my life is still significantly enhanced and defined by music. With the passing of Michael Jackson this year-I took a little moonwalk back (chacoot, chacoot*Michael noise*) and thought about what an amazing musical legacy he left behind. Truthfully I was weepfully wistful, because from Thriller:the first record I purchased with my own dime (um those were big, black, vinyl round disky things that played in a spinny box with a needle dealy...records, not dimes. Dimes still exist)to the WIZ (which I adored and ahem...may have allegedly seen at the drive-in-"Ease On Down The Road")...Michael left a white glove-shaped mark on my young life. His was the first face(via poster) to grace my bedroom wall and his was my first big concert. Creatively...he was a gift to us all. And then? Patrick Swayze left us too. And even though The Outsiders was not musical (It was still Brat-Packed with teen angst and tear drops)-Dirty Dancing most certainly was. I will never be able to hear "Stay," "Cry to Me." "Do You Love Me?"...or anything else from that soundtrack without being instantaneously pulled into summer-recalling in living color being a long-legged gawky tween in cut offs and a tied white button down (just like Baby) and dreaming of a Johnny all my own. One that MOST assuredly would disallow anyone to "put me in the corner"...and would log dance with me on a whim. For a gazillion reasons-sentimental and otherwise-I am thankful for music-and the memories with which they enrich our lives.

4. There is an outdoor ice rink near my house. One that I have never set skate on. But there is something so Norman Rockwell about it- that it (like Tom Cruise when he was more Maverick-than Maniac) simply takes my breath away. Encircled in icy-blue twinkle lights in a courtyard dressed up to its' mistletoe in Christmas. Tucked into a side street decked in wreaths, garland and holly. There is even a shiny silver Airstream vending steamy hot cocoa. This wintry wonderland could not be more magical, well...if it were magical...Oh and it reeks (in a caramel-apply goodness kind of way)...of Serendipity. You can't go wrong there. If you haven't seen the movie? Don't admit it out loud. Order it from Amazon, don't bother renting.Merry Christmas from John Cusack to you.

5. Finally...I am thankful for laughter. The loud unchecked kind that shakes my babies' bellies. Because there is no other such example of pure, unabashed joy as the giggles that run rampant and take us over in waves. How frequently get entangled in the stresses and the troubles of the irrelevant trifles that we allow to occupy us...that we forget what it is to cut loose and laugh so hard that tears stream down our cheeks and the air escapes our lungs in jovial fits. What a delectable way to suffocate! Who couldn't use more laughter and whimsy? Serious is overrated. Silly is the new sophisticated...Or hadn't you heard? Regardless...

Alas, I find it quite pleasurable here in Randomville...so I am gonna' chill here...maybe get a little giggy wid' it...but you better be getting back. By all means, come and visit me here again. Consider it an open invitation...Next time? Bring your thank the thankless box and show me what ya' got in there. Deal?

November 22, 2009

Who Let The Wolves Out?

Warning: If you plan to see New Moon and have not? The following blog is soaked in spoilers...marinated to my own personal taste...You may want to hold off until after the movie, novel, or both...Then? Please, consume it raw...haha...okay...enough vampire references...for a second or two at least.

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Like gaggles of other Cullen-Cravers ranging in age from twelve to sixty two,and dieing to take a bite out of the latest installment of the Twilight Saga, I saw New Moon this past weekend. Of course the flick was proceeded by sushi, sake and screaming girls, of which-shockingly,I was not one. This is not to say-mind you,that once the theater got dark-I didn't gasp involuntarily. Nor will I swear that a suppressed squeal,or two might not have sneaked through my parted lips.I will neither confirm nor deny that a few throaty vamp growls broke loose from my throat...but this? ALL of this...is COMPLETELY appropriate behavior in a world where vamps have hair so fantastic that it puts 90's super models to shame. Where they slink and crouch around like Barishnikov in couture that fits like a sparkly diamond encrusted Italian glove designed by Versace. Oh...and the growling thing? Even more acceptable in the high temperature, shape shifting, volatile and impassioned world where wolves pounce, snarl and savor the flava of crimson eyed blood suckers with dreads...Oh!...And they can't be troubled with shirts as they are far too restrictive for their switchity-split,fast paced lifestyle. Welcome to Forks Washington, the cloud shrouded moss covered place where the mythical mingles with the locals and camouflages its magic with the mundane monotony of small town life.

The long and the short of it is...I entered the theater with a cherry coke and a cup half full of expectation (also a twinkly Twilight Saga tee and Cullen necklace that although unplanned,matched my friend Jen's). You see, New Moon is my least favorite of the four books in the Twilight Saga. This has very little(if anything)to do with the actual writing of the novel and volumes to do with what occurs, or doesn't occur between its covers. Where the sudden, fate driven, angst-ridden, forbidden and fiery, all-consuming "young"love of Edward and Bella take center stage in Twilight...-in New Moon, with the prick of a finger, the stumble of Bella, the snap of an arm, and the jump of a Jasper(the newest and least practiced"Vegetarian Vampire" in the Cullen family),the story takes a darkly, don't-bother-getting-out-of-bed anytime soon- dramatic turn for the depressing...With the words,

I promise that this will be the last time you’ll see me. I won’t come back. I won’t put you through anything like this again. You can go on with your life without any more interference from me. It will be as if I’d never existed.
Edward Cullen, New Moon, Chapter 3, p.71



Edward abandons Bella to grasp feebly at the mere vapor of what she had believed to be her destiny. She is left shrouded in a pain riddled, doubt evoking darkness without an escape plan, a Snuggie to warm her,or so much as a pen light,to illuminate her path tangled with brush. Still she stumbles ahead, blindly, in search of her Edward.


With shaky legs, ignoring the fact that my action was useless, I followed him into the forest. The evidence of his path had disappeared instantly. There were no footprints, the leaves were still again, but I walked forward without thinking. I could not do anything else. I had to keep moving. If I stopped looking for him, it was over. Love, life, meaning… over.
Bella Swan, New Moon, Chapter 3, p.73


When she finally allows the realization that Edward has gone and taken with him, her hope and her need for air, Bella lets the deep, suffocating, darkness engulf her.

The waves of pain that had only lapped at me before now reared high up and washed over my head, pulling me under. I did not resurface.
Bella Swan, New Moon, Chapter 3, p.84



Edward has decided for Bella, that she is better off without him. Providing her with only a few cryptic clues of his plan the days proceeding his departure. He leaves her in a fetal heap of raw, broken pieces on the forest floor. This is where Sam Uley,(sorry but I expected him to be more commanding and ferocious in the film) who we later find out is the alpha dog in a pack of Native American shape shifting wolves...sweeps up her emotional remnants in his massive wolfy paws and lays her out cold and crazy on Charlie's couch. Now I am not sure if it is Edward's calloused delivery of his half cooked plan, his shortsighted lack of consideration for Bella who allegedly brought his cold-dead heart back to life, or his foolish notion that while he will carry this "burden" eternally,she is shallow enough to forget him when he takes her photos of him and of his family, a few material items and the CD of the song he wrote her. Regardless the reason,I spent the rest of New Moon cursing Edward as if it were me he left screaming out in torture in the dead of night, rather than Bella. So from this point forward, I read and viewed with a mammoth, pretend vampy chip on my shoulder. Because, HOW DARE HE???!!!!(BOO) Pretend Vamp-Charmings should be forced to behave as such.

Oh right! The movie. I loved it. The over all production quality was better than that of the first. Found the changing of the guard-or director, as it were, in Harry Potter-esque fashion- to be a wise move. Seemingly bringing a fresh perspective to each novel in the saga appears to be a positive. The film introduced the pack of wolves spiritedly.They are both menacing and playful,comforting in their refuge and disconcerting in the threat they pose to the Cullens-whom we still love in spite of ourselves.Taylor Lautner is perfectly cast as Jacob Black,his smile bright as the sunshine he brings to radiate its warmth through Bella's bleak barely there existence. He naturally embodies Jacob's charisma and warmheartedness handily taking on the role of Bella's best friend/wolfy,playful man child. (Whoop, whoop...quick shout out for the Team Jacob girls-to whom I identify, and with whom I hang, but of which I am not).There were some mumbled concerns that the barely legal Lautner would be able to show the physical transformation that Jacob begins in New Moon and continues through Breaking Dawn, but hand Taylor credit, because it is due. The audience never doubts Taylor as Jacob. In addition, Kristen Stewart does DESTROYED really well. I would go so far as to say that her performance in New Moon may have had more bite(pun completely intended) than her Twilight portrayal of Bella Swan. What little we see of Robert Pattinson as Edward and Ashley Greene as Alice... along with the mere glimpses we are permitted of the other Cullens-leave us appropriately, thirsty for more. I've read all of the books. Hang on...they're coming....finely threaded and juicy with surprises. So while it is not going to get a warm embrace from Oscar, New Moon is all that it promises to be; romantic, heart wrenching, thrilling and full of imaginary deliciousness.

My list of criticisms is short. With technology being what it is, I would have fathomed that the wolf transformation could have been more...say...um...Grinchish or Tolkien-esque (sorry don't do tons of sci-fi-horror) and by that, I mean..."believable"...and perhaps a bit less Never Ending Story or Land of the Lost (the original) quality in the technological department. Admittedly, I giggled a few times. Presumably,watching your friends shape shift into giant wolves, should be alarming and disconcerting and not so much laughable to an eye watering degree. That is an issue in the area of effects, not in the performance arena. Also in the effects department, the Volturi looked more to me like they should be doing the little Star Trek wave, than sweeping frightfully at light speed across the room to drain you of life. In the book the Volturi are lavish, regal and traditional, they strike fear but yet arouse your curiosity and fascination...They are vampire royalty and wrench your respect from you with their mere presence. I didn't so much get that. Aro was sort of wussy and that whole scene seemed rushed. Why bring in a name like Dakota Fanning and not give her time to bring the face of a cherub, grip of a demon-Jane to life? She IS capable of doing so. Finally, the ending? Have to reread...but I could have sworn that was an Eclipse thing. I am sure they had good reason for rushing that along, cliffhanging suspense perhaps? Again, these are creative decisions and I am being nit picky. None of these things, kept the movie from being a vamp-stravaganza, wolf-tacular success. New Moon the movie, successfully brought New moon the novel to living, breathing, bounding, venomous life in it's transference to the big screen.


In conclusion, since completing the saga, it has been my opinion that Bella is a bit too quick to forgive and forget. Crazy glue doesn't work on hearts. Still she is so utterly amazed by Edward's return that she just can't stop staring...understandably of course, but with the delivery of a few well-timed lines?

So I thought I’d explained it clearly before. Bella, I can’t live in a world where you don’t exist. (Edward)

and...

After all the thousand times I’ve told you I love you, how could you let one word break your faith in me? (Edward)

also...

My heart hasn’t beat in almost ninety years, but this was different. It was like my heart was gone—like I was hollow. Like I’d left everything that was inside me here with you. (Edward)

Bella is all too willing to let the whole..."Edward shredded my soul and left me for stupid or dead" thing go. I am not sure how sound this is...How dare I question the realism of a vampire, wolf, ordinary girl love triangle?...Still, Edward vows:



I’ll earn your trust back somehow. It’s my final act. (Edward)


and how could you NOT let him at least TRY to make it up to you? No faulting Bella there, however, he should at the very least be in the naughty corner until book 3.

That is just my humble opinion...

November 11, 2009

You Say I'm Spoiled Like It's A Bad Thing...

At some point or another, we have all been accused of and/or have accused others of being spoiled.

Every single person that I know is at least a pinch spoiled. Naturally, we all like things to go the way that we desire for them to go...Where we want them to go, when and how we want them to go...It would be a tad strange in a "there might be a pill for that" or a "you look like you could use some rest" kind of way- if we savored inconvenience and relished discomfort...And so, in a sense,this "spoiled" thing is essentially in our hard wiring. Although, I am not sure that wanting things to go your way qualifies you as spoiled-or selfish even...I think that it may be the unbending expectation of getting our way in everything ranging from importante to minuscule,and our toddler-like reaction to that expectation not being met...that sends spoiled bubbling up (sometimes over) to various degrees. Hahaha...So...Do you sniff a mystery Scooby?...Not a mystery so much as a teensy confession that I have already justified...thank you very much.

In my super young, ultra-exciting, endlessly glamorous life (hahaha) I have known a lot of self absorbed, child-like, temper tantrum throwing, spoiled rotten people. Even if you have not known them personally, we all encounter these self serving little tyrants in our every day lives. Typically we find them waiting until the lane ends and cutting off a mile-long snake of cars who got over when they were instructed to...because their time is simply THAT much more valuable than the rest of ours. Perhaps they are pitching a fit at the Barista in the front of the line at Shmarshmucks because their "Why Bother" has half a percent of fat, or an ounce of caffeine, or perhaps their soy is not soy enough, or their vanilla not beany enough...Regardless, we stifle a laugh or cringe in discomfort for the object of their wrath...perhaps we pull up a chair and grab popcorn...and undoubtedly, we feel sorry for their mama...if they have one-that is...

Truly, thankfully...(I would do the cross thing and look to heaven if I were Catholic)... I am not that style of spoiled. I am spoiled in the sense that I have a difficult time denying myself or those that I love...the things that we want...Within reason of course...Not talking Italian sport cars, eight carat diamond earrings, or gazillion dollar entertainment systems...More along the lines of...a cherry coke, or a new lip gloss-maybe the Munchkins want an ice cream or the latest Disney movie...THOSE are the areas where my discipline is lacking and my resistance is futile. The smells good, tastes yummy, looks fabulous, sounds spectacular, feels oh-so nice...is hard to say no to...for me at least....And so I indulge myself and those around me...just a tad. Actually, that is not what I believe makes me spoiled so much as when I cannot for whatever reason- partake and share such things...I put on the sulk...Yep, a big ruby letter S on my sweater...unintentionally...and I don't wear it proudly at all-but still it slinks in and sticks around uninvited...just for a spell. Just until another opportunity for a little bliss pops up...and for that reason-I suppose, I am spoiled-I am just not so sure that I would have it any other way...except for the sulking. Maybe I should just go all gladiator and take what I want by brute force...then the sulk would have outlived its "usefulness"...If you knew me- you would be on the floor rolling in fits of laughter trying not to wet yourself...that visual is so laughably preposterous...

But? I know you are spoiled too...it's only fair. So, c'mon admit it-you can tell me. There are things in this world that turn you into Verruca Salt...What are they? Golden Gooses? Tell me already. Pretty please?

October 29, 2009

Surprise Me

Life is full of surprises.

At least, that is what the quote says. Not to say that it isn't so.We have all been caught slightly off guard when something didn't go the way that we had anticipated. Possibly we received an extra fortune in our cookie, or we left home without an umbrella and the sky opened up and flooded us head to toe exploiting our unpreparedness...Occasionally,life bowls us over with a twelve ton ball of tragedy or heartbreak that knocks us out of our shoes and flat onto our backs...leaving us momentarily still while we wait for the wind to return to our storm bedraggled sails...THAT cannot help but be a surprise, as there is just no preparing for that...Clearly pain is not the shiny kind of surprise-not the kind we would wish for when we lean wistfully over our butter cream iced, fondant embellished birthday cake and blow out our candles aglow with promise.

To a certain point, we have the sweet,familiar comforts to look forward to... the violet colored bloom bursting through the crack in the muted pavement, the smilingly familiar face of an old friend, paying an unexpected visit...But we stop holding our breath in the anticipation of discovering anything that is truly unique. "There IS nothing new under the sun"...I am sure that I have quoted this before...it is one of those things that gnaws at my thoughts when I lie awake at night. Although it is true-it is definitely thunder stealing, in a why bother?-sort of way. Tainted with sadness-right? Because more or less,surprise-drags delicious mystery right out the door with it when it goes. Living causes a sort of amnesia that erases the breathtaking wonder of our childhood...where every new idea, each daily discovery...made life magical.We greeted each and every sun soaked morning-just KNOWING that the day was fat with surprises, bursting with undiscovered secrets. If we only kept our eyes wide open, our minds vigilant, our hands out- each of our fingers spread, our hearts stout...We...like super heroes or fairies, or explorers...or whatever we could dream up to be that day... would bust the day open like a pinata and the sweet delicious reward of victory would pour down on us from a candy filled sky.

Somewhere however, after the big lessons have been learned-after we take a few spills, after we have surrendered our youthful idealism to the oppressive, unavoidable presence of reality...Without giving it any conscious thought whatsoever-we give up on the hope that there are still any genuinely sugary sweet surprises in store. The blind faiths that we once clung to begin to lose their brilliance. We have learned the hard way that we have to ask questions, a lot of them, many of them difficult, deep and dark. If we accept and believe and pour ourselves into people, ideas, beliefs, hopes... without questions? We not only prove ourselves foolish, but our hearts get scratched and dented in the process. And the body work on a scratch and dent heart? Is costly in both tears and time...after which the weak point remains...just waiting to split at the weakened seam. And so...we disbelieve. We protect ourselves from disappointment by assuming that life has no more surprises in store for us. It is just safer that way.

That is...until one day when we, our tired feet on the trodden trail...our eyes on the destination, our minds locked in on our goals...trip over an obstacle in our path...and fall...SPLAT...hard...face planting...pleasantly into something that at first we do not recognize. Our initial reaction is to be cautious-our wall immediately starts to rise...but we reluctantly wiggle around in it a bit, spreading our toes. Then we try it on for size, move around in it...see how it feels against our skin. We allow it to convince us to lie still and let it's warmth spill thick and gooey all over our insides. And when we cease our brief struggle against the hope whose face we had forgotten, we remember how amazing it feels when our eyes twinkle and our laughter rolls out of us unchecked. We exhale the sweet breath of anticipation of what tomorrow may bring and embrace the familiar thrill of once again viewing the world through those rosy tinted shades.Pink is SO our color. And as we get reacquainted with our companion-Surprise in any of it's brilliant disguises or forms...we are suddenly sublimely aware that tomorrow, should it drop our hand that it now holds comfortingly...leaving us devastatingly desolate in the dark...with the splitting sound of our heart seam...tearing open once again...it would be worth the bliss that we experience in this moment.

And we hope...that we will remember this giddy, all consuming, powerfully inspiring feeling. That it will get us through the aching storm that will likely follow and that in spite of the rain, we will keep being surprised...because it is worth the cost.

So please...even if I kick and scream...occasionally reveal my fangs...

Surprise Me

October 25, 2009

Come Back Tomorrow

Making our way through daily life is best accomplished with a strut, a bounce, a glide, a stomp...perhaps even a swagger-if you JUST can't help yourself...Pick your poison. But today? I was lucky to pull off a languid, slovenly,slide...That twinkly spark that keeps us all moving uniquely throughout the day leaving our stamp on our minor victories and minute interactions-was lost under the sluggish oppressive shuffle of the meager three and a half hours sleep I was able to squeeze in. Although it was a relaxing and generally lovely Sunday...from the time I opened my four hundred and forty nine pound eyelids on the inky bleak weather dripping in melty drizzle and blotted with the fallen leaves of summer...my lone motivation was to make it back to the comforting cradle of my beloved worn just right pillow and to be wrapped in the velvety embrace of my downy feather blanket that smells of lavender and yesterdays perfume-which was...Philosophy-Falling in Love-if you were wondering....or even if you weren't. Fair enough...but when I was staring at the wall as though it were a shiny slow swinging pendulum agleam with embedded emerald hued crystals and humming Summertime in the soul-soaked throaty voice of Billie Holiday...my sleepy mind drifted...heehee as it is prone to do...and landed on a caramel drizzled cloud of loftiness.


Actually I couldn't resist the word "loftiness"...but in reality- I was dwelling on sleep and the whisper from my weary body that she could very easily curl herself up and give the busied mind the strict instructions to pipe down and give my stubborn eyes the permission to blink just a little slower...lingering just a second or twenty two before throwing themselves back open in halfhearted protestation. Then like a feather on the gale of an aggressive autumn wind- my thoughts were carried to the endless opportunity of each day and the gift of the unknown and how it is our obligation to open the door when opportunity knocks at it. Be it the chance for a chocolaty, steamy latte on a chilly afternoon, or a new job opportunity, or a moment where a dream presents itself on a shiny silver dish and dresses up in crimson cherries, drizzling itself in hot fudge...handing you a sterling spoon...

Then? Whoosh-whisked away again-my mind surrendered to my current exhausted state and arrived at the necessary conclusion that just for today....should opportunity come knocking?

Rat-tat-tat..."Opportunity! Want me to fluff your pillows?"

I would hang the Do Not Disturb sign on the handle...with a handwritten note and a tip-politely requesting that Opportunity please come back tomorrow....

With that, I continued my struggle against the day and have now...completed the mission-which I had no choice but to accept...And with that Dear Reader...I can ignore the all consuming call of the bed no longer. Sweetest of dreams.

I need to rest up...I have a play date with Opportunity at two seventeen.

September 3, 2009

Foiled by the Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful princess,or previously wealthy, lovely girl orphaned by her father or her mother-sometimes both...She lived in a castle, great house, high tower. She roomed with fairies,her wicked stepmother,evil step sisters,or all on her own. She was sad and lonely, cursed, over worked, under payed, never appreciated. Add a glass slipper,pumpkin coach,poison apple,spinning wheel.Enter fairy godmother,wicked witch,little singing men,friendly talking animals, fire-breathing dragon,fearsome sea hag...The previously mentioned are interchangeable,but always without fail...enters Handsome Prince. Who just when the poor little princess, with nothing but her kindness and physical splendor to aid her is about to meet her untimely and tragic demise...sweeps in-often singing,frequently atop his mighty steed and slays said dragon,tricks wicked witch and often wakes her with his kiss. Then there is a big white wedding and they all live happily ever after...
The End...?????

To make myself clear, my imagination has more colors than any rainbow, more hues than a Croyola box of 64 crayons-truly. And I firmly believe in positivity and promise, in hope, in beauty and in love...and SO...I hate rain on this highly logical, flattering and deeply philosophical imaginary parade- I do...but I just gotta'....

Because this illusion, this fluffy, pretend, never going to happen-sparkly wand induced,blush pink fantasy is what we feed our little girls. It is what we were fed as little girls. And as sweet and as fantastical as it all may be...it is a pretty lie that we encourage them to believe. Little girls grow into big girls, big girls grow into women. Women that eventually will fall in love and will possibly get married. And even though most of them will never admit it-the expectation,the blue print for their life is at it's core based on a Prince Charming...and Happily Ever After. As I have mentioned previously,I am an avid viewer and passionate enthusiast of Grey's Anatomy.If you don't understand,I really can't explain it-it just speaks to me. Anyway, the shows'writer Shonda Rhimes says EVERYTHING better than I could ever dream of saying it. In this case, she used Meredith Grey to reveal the following wisdom on this subject...

“You know how when you were a little kid and you believed in fairy tales, that fantasy of what your life would be, white dress, prince charming who would carry you away to a castle on a hill. You would lie in bed at night and close your eyes and you had complete and utter faith. Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, Prince Charming, they were so close you could taste them, but eventually you grow up, one day you open your eyes and the fairy tale disappears. Most people turn to the things and people they can trust. But the thing is its hard to let go of that fairy tale entirely cause almost everyone has that smallest bit of hope, of faith, that one day they will open their eyes and it will come true.


As a mother of a little girl, of course I want her to have hope and faith-to truly believe in the few things worthy of her unfailing devotion. I pray that she will appreciate inner beauty and find the goodness in the people that she encounters. Yet, when I hear her sing about beauty and princes and talk about weddings in her long, shiny princess dress-I am poignantly aware of the message these stories send. I am not the most modern of women. I am not bitter and jaded, this is not male bashing in the least. However, the issues with the fairy tale version of life are as follows; the princesses in fairy tales are limited to only their physical beauty, their lives are all miserable-lonely and sad until Prince Charming comes and rescues them from their desolate existence(even the name,Prince Charming,really?!?) Finally, the fairy tale-ends with the wedding...so about, two thirds of Princesses' life? Just....unaccounted for? Once she has achieved the lofty "goal" of marriage, she accomplishes nothing else worthy of mention? This is supposed to be a fairy tale not a tragedy.

How wrong it is for a woman to expect the man to build the world she wants, rather than to create it herself.
Anais Nin


At its core, this is what I hope to instill in my Baby Girl. She is beautiful and so is everyone else in their own unique way.It doesn't matter if the world agrees, or if she fits its mold. In fact, I prefer that she doesn't.Rarely does a true treasure fall from the sky...you have to dig for it.If she can find in herself and in others-a beautiful heart, a lovely soul, a thoughtful mind...her life will be rich. Inner beauty is the only beauty that truly counts. An ugly spirit,kills a pretty face-every time. No exceptions.I want her to use her head and her heart and not spend too much time worrying about her face, or her body. That said, I want her to take care of herself on every level, because it makes her feel fulfilled to be her best-to grow, experience, challenge, accomplish, and change.

She may not befriend dinner mint colored fairies or sing with musical animals, but I want her to discover for herself, that the world IS a magical, amazing place. I hope she greets it as such-her eyes wide, her arms open. And though she will inevitably encounter witches and dragons-I want her to muster the courage to battle and conquer them...and not wait for, nor rely upon someone else to do it for her. It is my wish that she waste not a moment waiting to be rescued by, or from anyone or anything. She is stronger than she thinks, she just won't know the power, strength, gifts and bravery she possesses until she dances through the fire. While trusting herself is crucial, trusting others is necessary to living a full life. Of course I want her to find love. First a love of herself-which requires that she first find out who that is, then a love of someone else. After which she should nurture a love of both-not losing one to the other. I hope she learns the difference between adapting and assimilating.May she take an active roll in her life and refuse to let it just "happen" to her. Life is made up of the little moments...let her find gladness in those and not wait at home for the "big" experiences to arrive.How much time is wasted in that way!I want her to know the bliss of a true surprise and I hope that she knows many-because it means that she has not become cynical. I hope she stumbles and falls sometimes-because if she doesn't, she is not spending enough time living on the edge.Above all else, I hope she is kind, forgiving, gracious,joyful and generous...with herself and with the world. Should she one day marry, I hope she realizes that is not where her story ends-but merely the start of another chapter in her book of life...there will be many more before her curtain closes. Speaking of stages-may she both take it and shine and give it up to someone else when she is not the best one for the part. I hope she asks for help when she truly needs it and offers assistance when others are in need. May she provide a crying shoulder to the saddened, much needed reassurance to the faint of heart,warmth to those left out in the cold, empathy to the misunderstood, strength to the weak, guidance to the lost, and a hand to hold onto to those reaching out. Let her surround herself with people who provide the same to her. Happiness is a choice-may it be what she chooses for herself. Finally, I hope Baby Girl has faith and never loses it-although it may seem to fail her at times...

That isn't too much to ask for her, is it? Never mind, I don't care. I want it for her just the same.

Back to Shonda Rhimes and Meredith Grey for a wrap up...


At the end of the day faith is a funny thing. It turns up when you don't really expect it. It's like one day you realize that the fairy tale may be slightly different than you dreamed. The castle, well, it may not be a castle. And it's not so important happy ever after, just that its happy right now. See once in a while, once in a blue moon, people will surprise you , and once in a while people may even take your breath away. -----


That said, I hope she takes her own breath away, writes her own story...and that it is rich with laughter, experiences, growth, love and, well...LIVING-in color and out loud. And that at the end of it all, she can look on it with a full heart and realize that she wrote it so much better than the shallow, short sighted fairy tales in which she once believed.


The End

August 24, 2009

Instinctively Impaired

I have always considered myself to be a fairly instinctive person. Throughout my life, I have trusted and often acted on my instincts. For the most part, they have served me well. My instincts on character judgment especially, have been primarily spot on. Until now. Over the course of the past two years or so, my instincts have misfired completely. I am not sure if it is a failure of my instincts,a side effect of my stage in life, or that the people (and there are quite a few at this point) that I have misjudged (erring in their favor)are conniving and deceptive, OR if they changed drastically during the time that I knew them and my radar was blinded to the change because they had since endeared themselves to me causing me to view them at their best.You know, in the way that once you really know someone...you are no longer capable of seeing them with just your eyes. Regardless, the result is that I not only have lost faith in my instincts, but as a person who really loves people...I have begun to lose trust in mankind as a whole. It is not that I think there is no goodness in the world, because I know that there is...it just seems to be getting harder and harder to find and more difficult still to believe. And for whatever reason, my heart has become as blind as my eyes. And now, when I think I have come into contact with true goodness, I have admittedly become guarded and jaded-refusing to take anything as it appears, or even as it initially proves itself to be.

Herein lies the conundrum. This loss of faith...is it wisdom gained through experience or is it an emotional and spiritual pendulum sway toward pessimism? Is optimism blind faith? My outlook, is generally sunny...yet I have to question if my heart, my faith, my hope would be better served, more conscientiously cared for- by a step up in security...a significantly more closely guarded optimism. How many times do either your judgment, or others, or a combination of the two...have to fail you...before you are foolish not to take a scrutinizing inventory of the way you do life's business and do some serious, possibly drastic restructuring?

At this point, I don't have any answers. Just volumes of philosophical questions. As a Dreamer, I suppose maybe I was in need of some grounding. I just feel as if I am tight rope walking the wobbly rope of hope and beneath me is not a net...but a pit of clouded, bottomless, despair. Everything happens for a reason, even if we are too close to the situation to see what that reason is. Even if distance...miles and miles, years and years, nights of sobbing inconsolable distance are required to see what that reason is...My concern is this- if an open heart and open mind are required to truly love, to empathize with and to know people. If being receptive, arms outstretched to life's experiences-is key to successfully savoring life's journey...yet every time our judgment fails us,we fail ourselves, our hearts fail us, or others fail us. Every time a piece of our heart is broken off carelessly, sometimes viciously, and tossed aside...The open arms, the open door, the open heart closes-just a little-sometimes if the injury is deep enough, the door slams shut...If we force the door open-are we fools? If we allow it to close in on us-do we turn cold? Where is the harmonious medium? Is there one? Maybe this too...requires distance. But how much time is wasted waiting for that distance to evolve? Fools rush in,"...Elvis said so...so how much time is too much and how much-not enough? How do we know? Are we to trust our feelings? Our instincts? After all, they are what got us into this mess. Admittedly our minds are not skilled at subtlety or lack of fact. So then what?

It is often heard that your mind, should tell your heart how to feel...and for some that may suffice...but for the ruby red,gushy, overflowing, throbbing,passionate, soft yet strong-hearted...the deafening of Hearts' pounding drowns the shouts of our minds to a soft often incoherent whisper...

For now, I reserve judgment...ironic as that may be. Taking a breather (when I remember how) to see if my instincts are still under warranty. I am going to pause for a long moment to lick my metaphorical wounds.Time to teach my mind to articulate itself better...to project more. Finally to give my heart some time to repair itself...to reinforce the weakened areas and come back stronger than before and to teach it to count to ten before jumping. Not all questions have immediately clear answers and that too...is something we have no choice but to resign ourselves to and accept."No one said life was fair" and "No one said we had to like it"... Think I will embrace and accept the disillusionment that I am finding impossible to avoid and then, hopefully cast it aside. I am not ready to give up, I hope that I never am...the human spirit is nothing if not enduring...and this too shall pass. I'm sure of it...even if the when and the how are so obscure they may as well be a Stanley Kubrick film. But shame on me if it passes without some deep introspection, evaluation and alteration.

Trust, hope and faith...all equated with love, But love and instinct perhaps, need to check in with reason and experience before taking action...For now I look to patience, forgiveness-(how much harder I find it to forgive myself for vulnerability,failure to protect myself, mistakes, and lapses in judgment-than to forgive others almost anything) and grace. I have never been a tolerant waiter, who is? So, while I refuse to sit on the sideline and watch-think a time out is in order.

*In my absence of true answers I turned to some greats to see what light they had to shed on trust...

You may be deceived if you trust too much,but you will live in torment if you do not trust enough.-Frank Crane

As soon as you trust yourself,you will know how to live.-Goethe

It is better to suffer wrong than to do it, and happier to be sometimes cheated than not to trust-Samuel Johnson

August 6, 2009

Just Because You Can...

"Nothing in life is free"...is a statement that we hear frequently. Perhaps it should be revised to state that "Nothing of true, deep, substantial, lasting value comes without a price"...Such is the case with freedom.

Freedom is this unblemished, indescribable,ungraspable,incomprehensible gift...it is vast,intangible and without boundaries. Contrary to the accepted meaning of "free" however, freedom is ANYTHING but. It has been and continues to be paid for with precious life, valiant sacrifice and truer honor than most of us have been in the presence of or could possibly appreciate in full. For Americans,our freedom is a birthright. Like most things that we don't personally have to toil to get, or strive to keep, or give of ourselves to earn-freedom is a "right" that most of us take for granted. Primarily because we don't know any different.Freedom surrounds us like the air that we breathe. Constant and unfailing as the sun that brightens our sky, smiling down on us as it drenches our skin and whose setting marks the passing of our days.The United States has come to represent and occasionally to be resented for our freedom(or at least for the perceived recklessness with which we utilize that freedom). The symbolic soar of the majestic eagle's wings spread wide,the right to vote for the man (and hopefully one day soon,the woman) who will have the final say on the all important decisions that eventually effect us all. The freedom to DO,and to SAY,and to BE as we please. How we adore ranting about the freedom we have to say this, or to do that! Free to read a controversial book, to burn our Country's flag in protest,the liberty to worship (or not) at the altar of our own choosing. Our freedom has been paid for and continues to be preserved...and to us it IS free for the experiencing and all too often, for abusing.

In actuality however, the freedom we relish-came at great cost. Seemingly,out of respect,out of appreciation and gratitude to those that paid the price of our freedom. Isn't there an unspoken meager price tag dangling from the torch of Liberty that reads simply, "Responsibility"? Is respect-in the form of tact and general taste too much to ask for in return for human sacrifice? Seemingly, it should go without saying that as American citizens each of us has a responsibility to conduct ourselves with some fragment of dignity. We have a responsibility to educate ourselves on the issues and to vote knowledgeably-to do what we can to make America a place worth fighting and all too often...worth dying for. Doesn't each of us bare an obligatory moral burden to not exploit the freedoms that others have won for us-to see to it that the blood of so many courageous men and women was not shed in vain? In the name of our FREEDOM-there are Mothers without Sons,Husbands without Wives, Children growing up without their Mommys and/or Daddys. I believe a treasure so precious and a sacrifice so profound is not to be accepted carelessly,or handled thoughtlessly. What little is asked from us in return for our lives as we know them. The lives that other people in distant places can only covet out of their starvation, deprivation and oppression.

Taking freedom for granted is not only relevant with regards to patriotism, but it seeps into our personal lives as well. There is a world of things that we CAN do-things that we have the ability and the resolve and the permission to do, but does having the right, make it RIGHT? In life, when we abuse our freedoms-allow them to run rampant and without discretion or regard for others...we typically have those freedoms revoked. Whether it be trust, or love, or the right to drive a car that is stripped from us...If we fail to regard the freedoms we have been given, there are always consequences- often life altering consequences.Though seemingly contradictory, having FREEDOM to do as we will...is a weighty thing. Just because you CAN (are free to) do something...doesn't mean that you SHOULD do it. I said it...I am AWARE than I am implying a degree of accountability here. If that is too much for you-this would be a perfect point for you to stop reading.I (of course) say that in the greatest love...just slip out the back.I will pretend not to notice...

Just because you have the liberty to say or to do something-doesn't make it worth voicing, or desirable or worthy for others to hear,to see,or to experience. Just because you have the ability and the "right" to insult your boss's poorly selected toupee, doesn't make it a sound choice for you to do so. As a grown up(hopefully) you know better. I assume that you have not arrived at this point in life without obtaining SOME sense of judgment. Not only would mocking his Trump-like coif dent his ego and possibly hurt his feelings, but he in turn, has the "right" to immediately dis-employ and kill the professional reputation of you and your unfiltered, now unemployed mouth.Similarly,when our Founding Fathers established that we should all have "freedom of speech,"I somehow don't think they had t-shirts with profanity and President bashing bumper stickers in mind. OKAY-so those things didn't exist then, but the point is there and somewhat valid, buried someplace underneath my poorly executed example. Furthermore, on a global,national and personal level-at what point does exploiting our freedoms infringe on the liberties of others? Of course, we are free to wear these things and plaster them on the back of our vehicles,to speak out against what we believe to be injustice. But for those that drive behind us or pass us on the street-reading said shirts/stickers is an involuntary act-it just happens. If that person is offended by explatives or harsh language, aren't their rights then, being disregarded? Naturally, we all have opinions on almost everything, well founded or not.Thankfully, we have the ability to voice those opinions in practically any manner that we see fit. Do we HAVE to be told as grownups that if you can't say, do, wear, apply something "nice"-worthwhile, or edifying...that it is often best not to say anything at all? If faced with the hesitant eyes of a young soldier headed to war, or the grief stricken face of a child from a third world country who is raising her siblings because her parents were ripped from her by disease...would our priorities be altered? Would our harsh manner soften, would the worthiness of our statements be reevaluated? I would like to think so...I know mine would.

As an reminder of Freedom's richness and our role in celebrating it,let us use Presidential elections as another example because it is still somewhat relevant.This past election and the two proceeding it, were fairly heated ones. Granted,if your candidate didn't win-you are entitled to disappointment-perhaps a week or two of verbal griping and possibly even pouting. You are free to voice that opinion however you choose.But when the campaign hangover comes to an end,let us not lose sight of the fact that even in our personal defeat-we are still victorious. There is some dignity maintained by the Presidential office. Shouldn't we support the Individual occupying that office because they were elected by our fellow Americans,in this Country where we are so blessed/lucky(depending on your perspective)to have been born.A place where every vote counts.Whether we agree or disagree,shouldn't we be happy to have choices when so many others do not? Even if OUR personal voice is not the one that rings loudest in this round, are we not still fathomless bounds ahead of numerous countries worldwide...to be able to speak at all? We speak loudly and often without fear of our safety, or the safety of our loved ones being placed in jeopardy...we have been granted a voice.


Certainly, we will not be pleased with every move an Elected Official makes and we have the liberty to say as much. Still, it seems that with regard to our political views,perspective often goes flying out the window at Andretti-speed.Every Flesh and Bone Individual is bound to do something we do not approve of, and yes...to make mistakes. Each of us fails habitually, sometimes miserably. Why should a Politician be any different? Does the title of "President" somehow render the Possessor infallible? Obviously,the accountability of our Elected Officials is much greater on a national level, than our own because of the deep ramifications their actions and behavior hold for so many. There are no small errors when one achieves that level of power. But before we don that uncouth shirt, or mount that hate inspired sticker...perhaps we should stop and think for a millisecond. Are we ranting and lashing out simply because we can? What is the PURPOSE of placing that sticker, or wearing that shirt? Are we truly hoping to enlighten someone? It has been my experience, that offending others and putting them on the defensive, is not conducive to opening their minds to a new perspective,or their hearts to possibilities. We are each free to say anything that we please, yes...but at what point does it become the din of the spoiled and the rantings of the ungrateful? How far do we go, before we are insulting those who paid our debt? Have we become so jaded, childlike and arrogant that we can no longer feel the need to act as adults and be accountable for our actions and our words? Think of all the wasted, empty, hurtful words we banter in the name of entitlement. By no means, am I suggesting that we keep silent...just that we practice tact and exercise maturity when using the voice that most of us have not earned for ourselves.

Yes, freedom is ours for the taking. But if a Stranger knowingly throws himself in front of a bus to save our lives- do we not then OWE it to our Benefactor to not only be responsible with our own life, but to live it in gratitude and with inspiration. It would be careless and insulting for us to achieve anything less than greatness with our new lease on life-purchased at the greatest cost for us(although unsolicited)by another.

I realize this one is a bit soap boxy, it is not my intention to preach, lecture or chastise. It is merely that daily I encounter situations and individuals (including myself) doing and saying things JUST because they can...and it makes me wonder if this behavior is not only frivolous but irresponsible. I am uncertain when qualities such as purpose,forethought,and accountability went out of fashion. I don't know when the tantrums of the few, began overshadowing the ambitions and principles of the many. I am at a loss as to why in order to be considered progressive and forward thinking, one has to have extremist positions and possess a touch of ex-patriotism. I somehow missed when screaming, red-faced and venomously...became an effective method of communicating anything. Truly neither left, right or in between is innocent of behaving a bit like a petulant three your old...screaming shrilly, fists flailing...JUST because you have a voice. Yelling is rarely the best way to be heard. None of us gravitates toward the obnoxiously loud person in life...the one constantly ranting and raving because s/he seemingly loves the sound of her or his own voice. Instead we are moved by the calm melodic tones of wisdom and of assurance. How much more receptive is each of us to truth no matter how harsh, when it is spoken to us in kindness, in whispers, in song, with respect...?

What this looks like to me personally? I am not exactly sure.I desire and aspire to live a gracious, intentional life. A life that brings joy and fulfillment,empathy, richness and assistance...laughter and love to those around me. If for no other reason, than because countless sacrifices have been made in the name of my freedom to do, say, and be the person-live the life that I choose. It is my wish that when life's-door is closed upon me-that I have celebrated, appreciated and put my liberty to good use...Not just because I can- but because I believe it to by my obligation and I accept it gratefully.

*To clarify these are often nothing more than lofty ambitions of mine. I am not in any way claiming to possess any, nevertheless all of these noble characteristics.*