Oh My EYES!
January 29, 2009 at 7:03 am | Posted in fun & frolicking | 70 Comments
Let me just state for the record that I adore Etta James. I L-O-V-E her. Many of you might know her for her famous song, “At Last”, which you’ve probably danced to at one or twelve weddings or heard in a movie. But that’s not even her best song in my opinion. She’s got sass and attitude along with her amazing voice and her undeniable presence. If I could be any singer, I’d probably want to be her. She’s like Mae West meets B.B. King.
She is, in a word, a legend.
Last night I went to go see her (third row, center, HELLO!) and I walked away traumatized by the experience. It wasn’t the scantily clad whorebags talking loudly in front of us that did it (though seriously, shut your pie holes). Nor was it the lady with the cane sitting next to me rocking the entire row with her “dancing” who, by the way, smelled like a strange mixture of drugstore perfume, dog shampoo and Chinese food. It wasn’t even the young guy behind us wearing the Obama hope shirt that kept yelling out like he was Her Biggest Fan (we GET IT dude!). It certainly wasn’t my “date” for the evening, the always gracious, amusing and charming Dave2 from Blogography. Oh no. It was none of these. It was Etta James herself.
For one hour, she played a total of six song which means we basically paid $10 a song. That’s okay, honestly, because she is a phenomenal singer and besides, the woman is 81. Remember that. It’s an important fact. During the first song everyone was pumped, hooting and hollering, as she came out on her scooter. She broke out into song and started gesturing- fondling her breasts, motioning to her crotch, rubbing on herself. I look at Dave and we’re like woah! but we’re laughing and enjoying it with the rest of the crowd. It makes sense because the song is a bit racy. But then then next song starts and she starts making kissing noises into the mic and then wags her tongue at it and again with the sexual gestures and I’m like um, what is going on?! And for the next two songs, the same thing.
I started to wonder if she was an oversexed 81 year old or I was just a prudish 35 year old. I mean, I’m all for getting some into your senior years but what is WITH the sexual gestures? Even when the song isn’t actually sexual? It started to feel dirty and wrong. She could be my grandmother! She’s on a scooter! She’s touching her vagina on stage!
Then she announced she was going to sing “At Last” so the crowd went predictably wild. She said something about someone and how they can fuck themselves. Turns out, Etta was ripping into Beyonce. She seemed pretty pissed at her singing her song at the Inauguration Ball and probably, I’m guessing, portraying her in the recent film, Cadillac Records. There was a lot of “fuck her” over and over. I will say though that that was the first song of the night where she did not fondle herself- a welcome relief to my bleeding eyes.
I’m still a little agape at the whole experience.
I still love her but maybe if I were to be her, I’d keep the sexual overtones to one song. And I wouldn’t pretend hump a chair.
I Made a Move
January 28, 2009 at 7:35 am | Posted in love | 102 CommentsI don’t do things half-assed. It’s just not in my nature. So I am sure you can understand that doing a romantic relationship half-assed would not work for me. If I don’t live my life that way, I won’t love that way. I’m not good at limbo-ing- figuratively or literally.
Lately when I have talked about my relationship with the Fella to anyone, I’ve been either irritated/frustrated or completely void of emotion. People would ask, “Why are you two still together?” And I would not have a good response. But then yesterday when someone asked me again I said, “Because I love him and it used to be so good. I want it to be good again.”
What you might not know is that for the past six months we’ve been spiraling in a bad place- together and alone. We’ve had arguments, hard discussions (repeatedly), and went so far as to press pause on our relationship which basically meant we communicated via text or email. When we did hang out it was usually with other people. In essence, we hid ourselves from each other and in doing so, I think, made fixing what was wrong even more difficult. The distance grew and grew until I wondered if I really had a boyfriend anymore because it sure as shit didn’t feel like it.
When I said I wanted it to be good again, aloud, for the first time in a long time, something inside me woke up. Part of my problem with this whole thing was that I was not actively engaging in the relationship. I took myself out of it emotionally speaking but kept up some semblance of appearance which just felt false. I don’t do false well either. Not only did I have a boyfriend that I never spent time with or connected with but I had stopped nurturing that part of myself. I swear you could probably hear the hallowness inside me when the wind blew.
So I made a decision. Either we are IN or we are OUT. No more of this half-assed bullshit.
And then I called him up and asked him to meet me.
I told him about the decision I had made and that I was willing to go full in if he was too or else I was out. And he said he was full in. And I think I finally actually got teary. Emotion! I am not dead!
We’re both in.
Keep rooting for us.
Book of You
January 27, 2009 at 7:38 am | Posted in my neurosis, soapbox | 53 CommentsHere’s what gets me through most days: The basic understanding that not everyone has received the Book of Sizzle and even if they have, most of them have not bothered to read it.
See, most of us operate under the assumption that there is a “common courtesy code.” But there is no such a thing as “common.” Forget common. Once you let go that such a concept exists, I promise you will not be as constantly disappointed in other people as you might be right now. You might think you know how everyone should behave because it’s just “common sense” but your version of common sense is not the same as other people. This does not make you wrong. No. But it also does not make you right.
Let me tell it to you this way. . . you know how sometimes you get cut off on the road by some driver and you immediately let out a slew of expletives indicating what they should do (go fuck themselves) and what their mother should have named them (Douchecanoe or Mr. Fuckface) and then you flip the bird and assume their slight was intentional. They MEANT to be an asshole. To you! How dare they!? So you stew in your anger and righteous indignation and it puts you in a bad mood. And it’s totally their fault!
But maybe. . .work with me on this. . .they didn’t mean it? Maybe they are late to meet someone for a job interview and they’ve been unemployed for 5 months so a lot is riding on it. Maybe they don’t feel well and their baby was up all night screaming with the coup. Maybe they are distracted because their mom is in the hospital. I seriously think about all these what ifs and my heart softens. Because I have NO IDEA where they are at, just like they don’t know where I am at. That’s the place I come from. Even if I let the road rage spew out or I feel angry, I still think that they probably didn’t mean it. So I give them the benefit of the doubt and move on.
Let’s take a collective deep breath.
{BREATHE IN}
{BREATHE OUT}
Of course there are plenty of fellow humans who are assholes and cultivate their assholeness on purpose. Forget them. They are not worth the bother. Because if you let them get to you, all you are doing is riling yourself up in these situations. There is no “teaching” another person a lesson, especially a stranger. I don’t care how good it might feel momentarily to rip them a new one, you’ll be the one still stewing in your bad feelings minutes, hours, days, years later. Go to your higher self. Give people the benefit of the doubt. Move on from it.
Let it go.
I’ve had numerous conversations with friends about this concept. I get that not everyone is going to buy into it. We’re conditioned to assume the worst in people. It takes diligent practice not to do that. And really, when you examine it, it’s a rather self-serving mindset because when you think in these terms very few people or situations can really ever best you. Bonus!
As a controlling person, I struggle with this because I want people to operate under my will. I want people to stop making possible things impossible. I want people to behave in a manner that I see as fitting. But don’t you see? I can want that stuff but I will be disappointed 98% of the time. So I turn the tables on my demanding ego. And I swear, I feel better about life and myself and the human race for doing so.
Reflections
January 26, 2009 at 8:15 am | Posted in flashback | 30 CommentsA song came over the speakers that instantly transported me to your high school bedroom where we’d hide out, talking into the wee hours of the night. Two best friends full of angst and longing, confusion and attitude.
“Good times for a change/See the luck I’ve had/Can make a good man turn bad/So please, please, please/let me,let me, let me get what I want this time.”
We used to play The Smiths, The Cure and Depeche Mode over and over as we shared our hopes and dreams. No one could make me laugh the way you could. When we were together, life didn’t feel so difficult. It didn’t matter that we each had a parent who was a drunk or that we felt unattractive and uncomfortable in our teenage skin. It didn’t matter that we hadn’t read the book (again) for Honors English. We’d just watch the movie and read the Cliff’s Notes. You’d always get a better grade than me when test time would come. You could bullshit your way out of anything and I was the Worst Liar Ever. What a pair.
“Haven’t had a dream in a long time/See, the life I had could make a good man turn bad.”
Almost twenty-two years have passed since we were those awkward girls dressed in parochial school uniforms, dreaming of freedom and adulthood and boys. I think of you now and wonder where you’ve gotten to. Friends we shared sometimes reach out to me wondering how you are and it breaks my heart to say I don’t know. But that’s the truth. You walked away from our friendship via a text message. I wish I didn’t want to punish you for that. But your actions haunt me.
Even in my anger and disappointment, I miss you. The way you “got” me with just a look or word. All the inside jokes. All the memories between us. A sister in spirit. Remember how you said that being around me reminded you of who you wanted to be? I suppose that’s why you left. The thing you wanted the most was the thing that drove you away. Sometimes, I don’t like looking in that mirror either.
“So for once in my life/Let me get what I want/Lord knows, it would be the first time/Lord knows, it would be the first time.”
Wherever you are, I hope you’ve found a mirror that reflects what I always saw- your truth, your beauty, your tender heart scarred but still full.
Don’t forget yourself.
Honesty Is Such a Lonely Word
January 25, 2009 at 6:33 pm | Posted in meme | 30 Comments
I knew when I started reading my friend Vanessa’s post over at her site, Random Ramblings, that she was going to tag me for this meme. And I swear I didn’t cheat and scroll down to see. I just had a hunch. The deal is, as an honoree, I have to A) list 10 honest things about myself – and make it interesting, even if I have to dig deep! (Dig deep? I hardly ever do that so this will be a stretch. AHEM.) and B) pass the award on to 4 bloggers that I feel embody the spirit of the Honest Scrap. (Vanessa changed the rules to say “embody” because she is SO like that. And I mean that as a compliment.)
Ten Truthful Things:
1) I have to hold onto a wall or railing when taking the stairs because I am deathly afraid that I will miss a step and plummet to my death. If I keep thinking like this, surely it will be a self-fulfilling prophecy.
2) I like scary, suspenseful movies but not if I have to sleep alone after watching it. While E.T. is not a scary movie, I used to be afraid that E.T. was in my closet. I KNOW HE IS A NICE ALIEN but my child’s mind did not care about logic.
3) I have a very difficult time being in a messy environment. When I was a kid, I babysat for this family who lived in filth. Dog hair, spilled cereal, dishes piled in the sink, layers of dust and a strange, stale odor in the air and it was SO GROSS. The kids were adorable but I felt like I needed to shower when I got home.
4) I am a very light sleeper. I bring ear plugs with me when I travel because I am very, very unpleasant if I don’t get enough sleep. On that same note, if I get to the place of starvation, I am an utter and complete bitch. Watch the blood sugar!
5) I really, really, really want to learn new dances. Especially Flamenco. I have a very stupid reason for not signing up. (See #8)
6) I cannot eat spicy food. I’m a complete spice wimp. I am, however, building up my wasabi tolerance.
7) I adore ferris wheels but only from afar. I don’t want to ride on them (vertigo) but I do want to collect photos of them.
8) I spend far too much time feeling bad about my looks, specifically my body. This. Really. Must. Stop.
9) I have crushes on girls. My current crush is Rosario Dawson. I would say Kate Winslet but mostly I want to BE her, not make out with her.
10) I am not living up to my full potential.
I tag:
Facebook Finds
January 23, 2009 at 7:45 am | Posted in memory lane | 37 CommentsThe thing with not blogging per my usual schedule is that when I sit down to actually write something, everything feels backed up. It’s like when you’re waiting in an abhorrently long line at the grocery store and a new cashier calls over the next person and everyone stampedes over. “Me first! I’m next!” they cry out with their body language.
Hey, you can’t ALL be next. Somebody better start telling the truth.
So let’s take this one thing at a time starting with last night. I was sitting with a friend at a new local hot spot when someone caught my eye. He looked familiar but I couldn’t place him. I stared at him. He stared at me. We cocked our heads, thinking. Then he quizzically said my name and I tentatively said his and we both nodded in affirmation and then hugged.
This guy is someone I went to elementary school with. I am turning thirty-six in three months so it’s been a loooooooong time since I last saw him. If it weren’t for the wonder of Facebook, we would never have recognized each other. Or even known we lived in the same city. I turned to introduce him to my friend and guess what? They used to be neighbors!
Seattle is a very big small town.
Speaking of Facebook, last week I received an email on there from an ex I have not spoken to in almost seven years. The message claimed he just wanted to say hello. It mentioned something about hoping Seattle was good and how he is moving to the east coast. I didn’t even know where he was living or what he was doing. Last I heard, he married the girl he dated after me (which is a scenario that plays out FAR too often in my life). He obviously looked for me but the reason why alludes me. Just totally random and weird. I wrote back a few sentences then he responded with a couple and then it just . . . ended. Sort of like our former romance.
There’s one thing we can thank him for though- he’s the one who nicknamed me Sizzle.
Another Way to Think About It
January 21, 2009 at 7:27 am | Posted in light bulb moments | Leave a comment“When a lot of things start going wrong all at once, it is to protect something big and lovely that is trying to get itself born- and that this something needs for you to be distracted so that it can be born as perfectly as possible.” – Anne Lamott, “Traveling Mercies: Some thoughts on faith.”
Different Versions of the Same Conversation
January 19, 2009 at 3:45 pm | Posted in love, my neurosis, processing | 74 CommentsNo one would have guessed that hours earlier when asked if I thought it was worth sticking out and fighting for, I had answered “yes.” The way your words sprung me to action. How I quickly moved from the couch to the bedroom, opening the dresser drawer that held your clothes, like a bookmark, a place holder in the story of us. How I dumped the contents out on the bed while you sat in the other room, beside yourself. How I moved swiftly without any other thought than “No.”
Because I just can’t do this again.
It used to be that when someone told me that they gave up, I would rally to encourage them. I used to be the best fucking cheerleader a person could ask for. Hell, I’d jump in the game and try to go long to win the game for them. And I wasn’t even on the team. I don’t even know how to play but I fake it good. That’s how twisted I was. I thought helping meant doing sometimes to the point of taking over. It was exhausting and exasperating and everyone ended up pissed off one way or another so I stopped.
So now if you give up, I will too. Because I can fight for two but I refuse to.
I know this isn’t the “nice” way of reacting to a person who is down in the dumps so deep they can’t see a way out but it’s my current truth. This lesson comes with battle scars: I cannot love a person enough to make them love themselves.
Sometimes in these moments I think of my mother. A woman of strength who was pushed to drastic actions by an immovable object- my father. He would sit in his misery, a magnet, pulling us all into his sorrow. I look back on those times and wonder how she survived watching a man she loved give up. And it’s no wonder she made the decisions she did. Because someone had to.
In these moments where I leap to action I feel strong and weak. The line between the two is thinner than I ever though possible. I am my mother and my father. I am action and stagnation. I don’t recognize myself- this cold woman who has hidden her heart. I say things I am not sure I 100% believe. I’m ripe with analogies for a thing I don’t even understand. But does anyone really understand love? Because I don’t think so.
We talk until it’s no longer heated. Until the tears have dried up and we’re breathing more regularly. I’ve handed you back the spare keys to my apartment, a makeshift peace offering. Tonight is not the end. You walk out the door with a tentative hug and I return to the bedroom to put your clothes back in the drawer.
Just In Cases
January 16, 2009 at 9:08 am | Posted in drivel, the super | 52 CommentsI just bought myself some Renters Insurance.
It seems like an unusual thing to do now as I am nearing 36 and have been renting since I was… oh, 22 years old but a series of events have brought the necessity to my attention.
Event One: My landlord told me about one of her other apartment managers who had a toaster fire in his kitchen. Damage and loss and lots of problems that Renters Insurance could have helped out with.
Event Two: I have begun purchasing “grown up” furniture. Since I have moved in here I’ve splurged on a new bed, couch and other miscellaneous items. I want to protect my investment.
Event Three: I left a burner on my gas stove with a frying pan on top for about two hours. WHILE I WAS HOME. But did not notice.
Event Four: I left a burner on very low without a frying pan on top just this week. I left home at 10:30 am and returned at 7:30 pm to find a smelly but very lucky apartment still standing. IT WAS ON FOR NINE HOURS.
Event Five: I have become a forgetful idiot.
I think the insurance will be the best $25 a month I have ever spent. Because you never know and you’d hate to find out.
Knock on wood!
S’moves
January 14, 2009 at 8:02 am | Posted in flashback, hip to be square | 47 CommentsWho remembers the show Solid Gold?
I’m totally dating myself but whatever.
I used to LOVE that show. Like borderline obsessed. I loved how the Solid Gold Dancers would wear those hideous, shiny leotards, waving their hands in front of their shaking asses like they just ripped a stinky fart. How Dionne Warwick (before her psychic career kicked off), Marilyn McCoo and what’s his chest Rex Smith hosted in their cheeseball way. Man, sometimes I really miss the ’80s.
I was thinking about this show last night while I was dancing to Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” in the privacy of my living room. That song takes me back. Way back to when my sister and I would come up with water ballet/dance routines to such hits in the swimming pool in our backyard. I used to boss my sister around making her practice over and over. (Doke, I’m sorry if this is something you have to discuss in therapy.)
I also loved the Pointer Sisters. No really. I still do. Don’t look at me like that or else I will start doing the “Neutron Dance.” Another personal favorite is Sheena Easton’s “Morning Train”- we even had a whole dance routine to that one. It was AWESOME.
Check out Sheena in all her 1980′s big hair, heavy eyeliner, fugly sweater, tight pants and knee high boots glory. ( Feel free to dance.)
I’ll tell you one thing, our choreographed “Morning Train” routine was a lot better than Sheena’s performance on Solid Gold. The SG Dancers with the canes dancing behind her? WTH is that? Our dance had MEANING. It was like . . .poetry in motion.
But no, I won’t video blog it.
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