Life is Busting out ALL Over!

Archive for August 2008

So I conveniently went out to my car to look for something in my trunk when the mailman pulled up. He stopped right at me, rather than going to the mailbox and gave me my mail. I used to love running out to the get the mail when I was a kid, so I was already nostalgic.

Then he says to me as he’s sorting for our mail: “Are you enjoying being home?!”

I said something automatic to this response nowadays, implying that I’m interviewing and that it’s nice that I had the chance to come back.

But in my mind was NOT the thought, How the hell does he know this? (although that was next), but rather Wow, I guess mailpeople are really friendly and get to know their people.

It’s amazing how much living in the city has numbed me to everyday activities and such. Kind of like when I got to Indiana and saw houses foreclosed, when all I had seen in Chicago was raising of condos and homeless people for years on end.

It’s nice to be reminded of community, even if this is only temporary.

Also, I have an interview in 45 minutes for a job, I really, really, REALLY WANT. And I have to do a presentation over the phone. I like presentations but over the phone doesn’t quite pack the punch. Still, I’ve been picking out apartments I like in that city super confident for the two weeks leading up to this, but all of a sudden the nerves have KICKED in. Whoa.

Yesterday I was procrastinating and found two cassette tapes in my closet. Both blank tape, one with no writing on it and the other with big letters that said RADIO = MUSIC.

The first tape was basically me reading books aloud (we used to tape record ourselves a lot, especially making prank phone calls (??) ). I know this because at the end I say “Thank you for joining me for story hour”. The tape is quite disturbing. I was a fast talker from the womb, apparently, because you can not understand it at ALL. Really, it doesn’t sound like English even. I have a New York accent despite that not being one of the 4 states I lived in as a kid. and I have a speech impediment. “Thank you vewwree much.” I think I was around 7 or 8.

But the BEST, the BEST is what I recorded over the beginning of story hour. It was Christmas Eve and I was in 5th grade (I know this because I repeated it over and over).

I remember my dad had one of those pocket tape recorders, like Jason Seaver on Growing Pains that he would speak into after he met with patients. It is clear that I used this because I was running all over the house, and a boombox would have been way noticable.

Caught on tape:

– My mom yelling at me to wear a dress (Christmas eve mass, I assume?)

– Me yelling at her that I hated wearing dresses

– Mom yelling more and realizing I could capture this on tape and then document it, I provoked her more.

– Me going through my closet trying to find a different dress to wear

– Me stating that my sister loved when I “beatboxed”

– “Beatboxing” – which just sounds like a lot of spit got on the recorder

– Star wars soundtrack in the background and my analysis of it: “As you can see, there were a lot of violins in this piece and uh…. other stuff”

– Finally this literally is on the tape:

5th grade Me: “Okay, well now I have to go to the bathroom”

5th G Me: “let’s go to the bathroom, shall we?”

5th G Me: “Just have to take off these pants” [with the sound of the zipper in the background] (Also, I somehow managed not to wear a dress!)

[PEE!!!! YOU CAN HEAR ME PEE ON THE TAPE!!]

5th G Me: “Do you hear that?? I’m going pee! Okay?!”

………………………………………………………………………….

What in the hell?? Who AM I?? No wonder my teenage years were so god awful, holy hell!

My friends want me to post the recording on facebook. Not even if I knew how the heck to do that, would I ever. OMG.

Finally!! Plus I don’t have anything ironic to post to “typical Tuesdays” today, so this is going to have to do.

I’m not one of those “up the Olympics’ ass” type of people. (Yeah, I just made that up but you know those people! We all do.) But I am a recovering UTOA. When I was a kid I used to put on my parents’ John Williams greatest hits CDs – well, I’m sure it wasn’t called that, but it had his Star Wars, Superman, and Indiana Jones themes along with the Olympic theme! I pulled out the big ass flag, obligated of every household to fly on national holidays in my town, out of the coat closet, put that baby on and marched around the house. Parade of Nations, party of one. I also used to play church, with the family bible, some robes and grape juice for communion so making up games out of nothing at all was not out of the ordinary for me.

Anyway, I do not sit in my red, white and blue while watching the games (anymore anyway) but I do watch the primetime stuff and I will admit I am already getting sad about the games ending next weekend. This also might be in part to my current life crisis: interviewing-but-not-yet-obtaining-a-job-some-of-which-are-all-the-way-across-the-country, so OMG am I really moving? So my choices are either nurse a Jack Daniels or make really sarcastic comments about other people living their dreams. Since I’m living with my parents, which you would think might drive me to the former, it’s actually the latter.

– Bela Karolyi, honest to goodness, I love him. I love his indistinguishable English when he gets excited. I love that he appears so bitter either for not being on the floor coaching or because no one has asked him to be the King of Gymnastics and make all the rules. But I’m telling you now, I think he would make an excellent commentator of everything. Cover the national conventions this month. Host Meet the Press. Send him down to Florida to tell us about Hurricane Fay. Or better yet, get the man his own cooking show. Is it just me or do you shout “Belllllllllllaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh” whenever he is on the TV?? Just me? Okay, cool.

– Michael Phelps. Yes, he is an EXTRAORDINARY athlete, unbelieveably so. But honestly, I’m sick of hearing about him. Loved the races. OMG. I’m an ex-swimmer so I LOVE the races but I don’t care that he listens to Lil Wayne to get pumped up. Partly because I imagined him listening to “Enter Sandman” on the blocks and I don’t see how you can get it up for Lil Wayne but whatever. 12,000 calories a day and no girlfriend?? Who cares? Just jump in the damn water.

– Synchronized Diving. AMAZING. Not as good as having Chanel noseclips like the synchro swimmers but it will do.

-Trampolines?? Okay, is trampolining REALLY an Olympic sport? It is awesome though. But I also invented two sports, tencrosse ( mix of tennis and lacrosse, much harder than it sounds) and Pinkball (in the absence of 8th grade boys letting you play kickball with them, go buy a pink one at Wal-Mart and start your own game). I think they would add a lot to the games as well. Who do I have to talk to?

– China, we all know those are NOT 16 year old girls. This could imply many things, but I’m referring to gymnasts. Okay, maybe that ONE is, but the other ones are not.

– Also World gymnasts? ENOUGH with the crazzzzy make up and hair clips and glitter oh my. I have a LOTTA, LOTTA hair and rarely need more than two when putting my hair in a competitive ponytail. Making geometric shapes with the formation of your hair clips is so not needed and kind of a distraction to the viewer.

– George Bush. Hey, what’s up? Saw you at the opening ceremony chatting it up with Putin like you hadn’t finished your conversation the last time you kicked back a few and want a rematch of that poker game. Did you NOT know what was going on in Georgia. The former Russian state, not home of Atlanta. Never mind, don’t answer that.

But olympics, I do love you. And I don’t know what I’m going to do when you depart me next weekend. Well, at least I have The Hills to keep me company for awhile. (Down with Lo!)

It’s typical that even though I’ve been told, I should enjoy my “time off”, it is really my cat who is lapping up the relaxation and the new surroundings. My parents have a fairly secure screened in back porch. It’s actually quite nice but I say “fairly” because my dad built it and although his skills have lasted over time in this house, the deck he built with my 6 year old help is now sort of sinking into the ground, so you just never know.

But Savannah is in cat heaven, she can wander out here and look at all the trees and the chipmunks and birds and the dogs next door, hear the sounds of crickets and birds and really not have to worry about actually being outside. I’ve been worried about ticks or some bug infestation on her fur, but the parents sprayed down the porch, and they are right, there really isn’t anything out here.

The weather has been so nice that we’ve opened up the house including leaving the screen door open to the porch so she can wander in and out of the house as she pleases. I truly think I’m creating a monster. No matter where we end up moving it will not be as nice for her as this.

Oh well…

Here’s the lady of leisure enjoying her new space:

It’s also typical that after months of crafting the perfect cover letter and not sweating it, I’ve decided I need to refresh it and am stumped. ARGH. Cover letters are seriously the death of me.

But, I’m also sitting on my back porch with a nice glass of lemonade enjoying this awesome weather and wireless along side the lady of leisure, so I guess I really shouldn’t complain.

I view Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind in a whole new light now. But wouldn’t rehab be nice? It should have really great beds that you can just sink into, making sleep so easy. Go away for 30 days, have someone there through detox of emotions, all the sappy movies you can cry to, other people to go to group with and learn and analyze. And then when you are done, you walk out of there with behaviors in check, the fear gone and a new lease on life.

I knew this was going to happen, that I had put my heart on pause while I was in school. We’ve been broken up for 9 months, haven’t seen each other in 11 months. Now I’m back in Chicago-ish, and I’m having to really face the reality of this situation. I keep thinking I should be more moved on than I am, that I should be through the hard part. I’m not.

It’s not the break up that I’m mourning but the remnants of loving someone for 4 years. We didn’t break up because there wasn’t love there, it just wasn’t enough. When it comes down to the big values stuff, we are on two opposite sides of the spectrum. He’s been denied unconditional love from a parent and thus views life as a series of relationships and that love is the ultimate of power relationships. I believe love is a partnership, a unified front for whatever life throws your way, a foundation that can build a richer life.

We are still friends. We still communicate, but in a very technological way, no actual speaking other than through IM and text. This takes the edge off. It makes it easier for me to break down the words and the discussions and realize that he could never provide the type of relationship that creates the love we could build upon.

I do not want to get back together. Actually, I don’t know what I want anymore. I remind myself of the values I hold closest to my heart, he does not and we would continue to go round in circles. We have tried to find time to see each other, if only to exchange our “stuff”, only for him to put many other plans on many different occasions before me. I am now the only woman he wants to be with, or could ever want to be with. I have seen the light, and that is hard. I know that while he wants me, his actions have shown that he does not, nor do they show that they understand me.

My entire life has been based on the idea that I can make anything work. So what if situations occur in ways in which I did not foresee or present greater challenges? I can make it work. I will make it work. I have made it work. But this relationship? This relationship I can no longer make work. This is what I am mourning. The effort and the time I invested has left my heart little and shriveled. The greatest thing about me, that I love with every fiber and I lock it in, has left me out to dry.

So I am walking away from the one thing I could not make work. I know it’s not my fault and I know that I was put on this path to learn and nudge me to walk on one in which I will be rewarded. But the care and the love I have for him is still there, the desire for him to be happy and find what is right for him is there, even if that right thing is not me.

I know I will be okay. I really, really do. I just want to get there. I want my heart to be regrown and stronger than it was before. It will. It will be ready for that time when everything does just work, organically and instinctively, like I know I deserve. But it’s the road from here until there that is tough. The road on which I start and stop and break down and try again.

Calm down
Deep breaths
And get yourself dressed instead
Of running around
And pulling on your threads and
Breaking yourself up

If it’s a broken part, replace it
If it’s a broken arm then brace it
If it’s a broken heart then face it

And hold your own
Know your name
And go your own way
Hold your own
Know your name
And go your own way

And everything will be fine

Hang on
Help is on the way
Stay strong
I’m doing everything

Hold your own
Know your name
And go your own way
Hold your own
Know your name
And go your own way

And everything
Everything will be fine
Everything

Are the details in the fabric
Are the things that make you panic
Are your thoughts results of static cling?

Are the things that make you blow
Hell, no reason, go on and scream
If you’re shocked it’s just the fault
Of faulty manufacturing.

Everything will be fine
Everything in no time at all
Everything

Hold your own
Know your name
Go your own way

Are the details in the fabric
Are the things that make you panic
Are your thoughts results of static cling?

Are the details in the fabric
Are the things that make you panic
Is it Mother Nature’s sewing machine?
Are the things that make you blow
Hell no reason go on and scream
If you’re shocked it’s just the fault
Of faulty manufacturing

Everything will be fine
Everything in no time at all
Hearts will hold

Details in the Fabric, Jason Mraz

Okay, so I’m sucking it up on my typical Tuesday and random Friday posts but whatever. I’m sure you guys have heard the craziness that has come from McCain’s ridiculous ad comparing Obama to Paris Hilton.

First of all, McCain needs to fire his marketing strategist. They keep coming up with these ads that ultimately paints Obama in a REALLY good light. Like, crowds of people hearing him speak, images of Barack looking presidential and powerful. I actually think that the ad does more for Obama than the harm it intended. Everyone knows celebrities like Britney and Paris and plastic and vapid and can’t make that comparison to Obama. If I were the marketing consultant for McCain, first of all I’d stop doing ads that make Obama the hero but if I was threatened with Chinese water torture or else do the celebrity angle, I would have played the angle of Hollywood dictating our politics that gets the folks riled up and used George Clooney or Ben Afflect and footage of their trips to Darfur instead. But that’s just me.

If you haven’t seen Paris’ response to her likeness in McCain’s ad, you should watch. And I have it here for you! Aren’t you lucky? It’s rather hilarious and brilliant as Paris misinterprets her celebrity as actually a presidential endorsement and uses this commercial to state her energy policy. And her energy policy, rather the writer’s energy policy? Kind of makes sense.

I can’t get wordpress to cooperate and embed the video but you can watch Paris here.

However, the marketing idiots at McCain 2008 do not stop there.Probably my favorite McCain ad is the dumbest of ad ideas for trying to create opposition to an opponent ever. The intention of this ad is to try to use the mainstream media’s love for Obama does not create a strong candidate. Rather that the American people are being mislead because the media are fawning all over Barack. It’s set to the song “Too Good to Be True” and actually I think this made me feel more inspired about Obama. WRONG MOVE, MCCAIN. To see these hardened journalists discuss Obama’s potential as a leader and to hear that Europe (who by the by no longer likes us) thinks of Obama as a rock star? ALL good things.

So McCain, keep up the good work!!!


Synopsis

musings and panic attacks of a Chicago girl embarking on a new life in Texas. Only it's not always June and it's not in song.

Tweets, Twit, Twha?

Error: Twitter did not respond. Please wait a few minutes and refresh this page.

lifeisbustingblog@yahoo.com

Pages