My dearest Music,
I'm so sorry for the nasty things i said about you the other day. I didn't mean it. I was just having a bad day. How about you come over later and let me make it up to you? We can have some nice wine, i'll get some Pierre Robert triple crème...we can make a night of it.
Also, to really demonstrate my unwaivering love, i've added a little of you back to the blog.
Let's never fight again.
rach
P.S. I Love You by Nellie McKay
Monday, June 15, 2009
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Hard of Hearing
Not too long ago, I was listening to my usual collection of Pandora stations through the rose-colored headphones of a relationship. This week, after having my heart stomped on with boy cleats, all the songs sound differently. Just a few weeks ago cheesy love songs made me smile at my desk in the way only someone retarded in love can pull off. I now find myself skipping the sappy love songs, thumbs-upping the depressing, spiteful side of love music.
Only now can I even hear the lyrics warning me of playaz (Beyonce station), lyin’ cheatin’ hearts (George Straight station), and that boy in the front row (Toby Lightman station). Even Alice Smith’s Dream received an irritated eye roll and Mariah Carey’s Shake it Off suddenly makes sense. This is serious.
I clearly did not hear, let alone heed, the advice of a gazillion entertainers singing their poor hearts out about the red flags of letting yourself have feelings for another person. Clearly, I am hard of hearing.
On another note, Pandora seems to behave much like the weather this week: completely abnormal and crappy, grey, dismal, cold, depressing, and very, very unfair…all to match my situation, obviously. Thanks Universe, how clever!
If one more sad break-up song comes on Pandora, I may give up on music. Same goes for happy songs about people in love. No more! Isn’t there anything else to effing sing about?! Can’t someone make a song about how glamorous it is be single, gorgeous, and on the rebound? Or that feeling you get from slipping on the perfect pair of jeans…there’s a topic that is certainly as song-worthy as a sensual encounter with your man. Taking a walk around the city with a cup of coffee…another life experience on par with falling in or out of love. No one is singin’ about that, are they!?
Ok, Beyonce, let’s try just a bit more creativity if possible. That Halo song is making me gag.
Back to this impossible SEO document. As if this week didn’t suck enough already…
My Sweet Song by Toby Lightman
Only now can I even hear the lyrics warning me of playaz (Beyonce station), lyin’ cheatin’ hearts (George Straight station), and that boy in the front row (Toby Lightman station). Even Alice Smith’s Dream received an irritated eye roll and Mariah Carey’s Shake it Off suddenly makes sense. This is serious.
I clearly did not hear, let alone heed, the advice of a gazillion entertainers singing their poor hearts out about the red flags of letting yourself have feelings for another person. Clearly, I am hard of hearing.
On another note, Pandora seems to behave much like the weather this week: completely abnormal and crappy, grey, dismal, cold, depressing, and very, very unfair…all to match my situation, obviously. Thanks Universe, how clever!
If one more sad break-up song comes on Pandora, I may give up on music. Same goes for happy songs about people in love. No more! Isn’t there anything else to effing sing about?! Can’t someone make a song about how glamorous it is be single, gorgeous, and on the rebound? Or that feeling you get from slipping on the perfect pair of jeans…there’s a topic that is certainly as song-worthy as a sensual encounter with your man. Taking a walk around the city with a cup of coffee…another life experience on par with falling in or out of love. No one is singin’ about that, are they!?
Ok, Beyonce, let’s try just a bit more creativity if possible. That Halo song is making me gag.
Back to this impossible SEO document. As if this week didn’t suck enough already…
My Sweet Song by Toby Lightman
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Totem Animals and Other Nonesense
Today, in an effort to use up units and avoid feeling much of anything, I took my friend to the hardware store, a place filled to the brim with creativity and time suckage. I had come up with a list of unnecessary projects around the house that would keep me busy for the next few days.
We were nearly overwhelmed with helpful male assistance, helping us make decisions about paint color and wood density. These adorable lads found our complete lack of home improvement prowess irresistible. I would have most certainly given my number to whomever inquired. However, they were young and therefore not worth the effort in training.
We joked on the way home that we should adopt a “cougar” way of life, seducing far-too young men for fun and relishing in their naïve adoration.
I get a weekly newsletter from a metaphysical shop in Omaha in which a totem animal is described. Totem animals are meant to help make sense of personality traits, non-traditional medicine, and life events in a way only possible with the divine wisdom of the universe. If one encounters a totem animal, one should either remember and utilize the animal’s lessons or refrain from the unfabulous characteristics of that animal. Checking my email at 2:34 am, I laughed out loud when this week’s totem was the beautiful and elusive cougar.
A cougar is a natural leader, strong and powerful. They don’t hesitate when they attack and they don’t waste time and energy beyond what is require to get what they want. When threatened, they go for the most vulnerable place. They don’t lead by force or domination however. Their leadership is followed only by choice, not fear. A cougar leads by love, patience, and determination.
At a time so convoluted by confusion and sadness, the wisdom of the cougar is well taken. Cougar is not allowed to show vulnerability. If I am to take the hint from my totem animal, neither will I. Cougars learn by trial and error which hones their skills. Like it or not, I’ll have to do the same. A cougar must not be kept stationary. Often those who have accepted the status quo can try to contain the cougar and those folks must be avoided at all cost. Sigh…I’ve never been much for the status quo and will therefore have to yawn, stretch, and move on.
I don’t normally take things like magic, crystals, or folklore with much seriousness. But, I do enjoy a unique way to learn about myself and the world around me, mostly how to deal with one in the other. I realize that this week’s totem animal is purely coincidental. That being said, if cougar’s wisdom (however based on the rants of some drugged up gypsy) can guide me in any direction, I’ll take it at this point. The fact that I’ve had several gin and tonics tonight should in no way dissuade the universe from speaking to me. If cougar is trying to tell me that I should leap at the next opportunity, then, damn it, I’ll do it. I’d hate to turn down free therapy, after all
Meeeee-oooowwww.
We were nearly overwhelmed with helpful male assistance, helping us make decisions about paint color and wood density. These adorable lads found our complete lack of home improvement prowess irresistible. I would have most certainly given my number to whomever inquired. However, they were young and therefore not worth the effort in training.
We joked on the way home that we should adopt a “cougar” way of life, seducing far-too young men for fun and relishing in their naïve adoration.
I get a weekly newsletter from a metaphysical shop in Omaha in which a totem animal is described. Totem animals are meant to help make sense of personality traits, non-traditional medicine, and life events in a way only possible with the divine wisdom of the universe. If one encounters a totem animal, one should either remember and utilize the animal’s lessons or refrain from the unfabulous characteristics of that animal. Checking my email at 2:34 am, I laughed out loud when this week’s totem was the beautiful and elusive cougar.
A cougar is a natural leader, strong and powerful. They don’t hesitate when they attack and they don’t waste time and energy beyond what is require to get what they want. When threatened, they go for the most vulnerable place. They don’t lead by force or domination however. Their leadership is followed only by choice, not fear. A cougar leads by love, patience, and determination.
At a time so convoluted by confusion and sadness, the wisdom of the cougar is well taken. Cougar is not allowed to show vulnerability. If I am to take the hint from my totem animal, neither will I. Cougars learn by trial and error which hones their skills. Like it or not, I’ll have to do the same. A cougar must not be kept stationary. Often those who have accepted the status quo can try to contain the cougar and those folks must be avoided at all cost. Sigh…I’ve never been much for the status quo and will therefore have to yawn, stretch, and move on.
I don’t normally take things like magic, crystals, or folklore with much seriousness. But, I do enjoy a unique way to learn about myself and the world around me, mostly how to deal with one in the other. I realize that this week’s totem animal is purely coincidental. That being said, if cougar’s wisdom (however based on the rants of some drugged up gypsy) can guide me in any direction, I’ll take it at this point. The fact that I’ve had several gin and tonics tonight should in no way dissuade the universe from speaking to me. If cougar is trying to tell me that I should leap at the next opportunity, then, damn it, I’ll do it. I’d hate to turn down free therapy, after all
Meeeee-oooowwww.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
The more boys i meet...
Over the last week of emotional turmoil, I am again reminded of the blessing that is my dog. As I sulked around, feeling sorry for myself, she was there for me. Not in an overly happy, “Let’s go outside and play and get over it” kind of way; instead, she was appropriately subdued but ready with a friendly wag if I showed the slightest interest in a bit of fun. She was just cute enough when I was feeling sad and made perfectly timed gagging noises when anger filled our space.
In particularly difficult times, when even Gloria Gaynor couldn’t produce any hope, I would feel the gentle nudge of flat-faced Shih Tzu reminding me that everything would be just fine. There really is something about snuggling a pet that lowers your blood pressure and cheers you up.
Olive doesn’t just do this for me. When friends have come by to work through life’s troubles over cocktails, Olive generally occupies herself. But at the slightest of ocular dampness, she is at high alert. Her unusual ability to sense tears is truly amazing, like a shark sensing one drop of blood from 100 miles away.
Hopping off her velvet pillow at the exact right time, she has dried the tears of many with a gentle paw and uncanny ability to fit herself on any lap however closed off to the world the lap may be. She is always ready to do her only job… spreading smiles everywhere she goes and offering a bit of perspective that we humans often misplace, reminding us that the world isn’t really that bad. She’s in it, after all.
Thank goodness I never need to worry. I have my pack to protect and love me and make sure I get out of out bed every single day. One need never feel lonely when they have the love of a Shih Tzu.
The More Boys I Meet by Carrie Underwood
In particularly difficult times, when even Gloria Gaynor couldn’t produce any hope, I would feel the gentle nudge of flat-faced Shih Tzu reminding me that everything would be just fine. There really is something about snuggling a pet that lowers your blood pressure and cheers you up.
Olive doesn’t just do this for me. When friends have come by to work through life’s troubles over cocktails, Olive generally occupies herself. But at the slightest of ocular dampness, she is at high alert. Her unusual ability to sense tears is truly amazing, like a shark sensing one drop of blood from 100 miles away.
Hopping off her velvet pillow at the exact right time, she has dried the tears of many with a gentle paw and uncanny ability to fit herself on any lap however closed off to the world the lap may be. She is always ready to do her only job… spreading smiles everywhere she goes and offering a bit of perspective that we humans often misplace, reminding us that the world isn’t really that bad. She’s in it, after all.
Thank goodness I never need to worry. I have my pack to protect and love me and make sure I get out of out bed every single day. One need never feel lonely when they have the love of a Shih Tzu.
The More Boys I Meet by Carrie Underwood
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Sugarplums and other visions
A very wise friend of mine has been attempting to help me make sense of a very disturbing relationship dilemma in which i've found myself. Alternating between devastated and, well, devastated, the love i thought was "grown-up," real, and indestructible has turned out to be just the opposite. My girl has offered some sage explanations.
People (both men and women), it seems, sometimes create a vision for their life, complete with lodging, lineages, even transport. The stereotypical house, car, and kids is alive and well, i'm afraid. The plans are made, signed and sealed, and not up for discussion. And then the quest begins to find the right person, a soulmate i suppose, that you can plunk down in that dream life. This person matches all the decor and lives life by the same soundtrack. The person must have the exact same visionary life. That is how you know they are the one.
Now, i'm not opposed to dreams. I have them myself, of course. But my dreams are fluid, murky, without real definition and form. For instance, my future ideal family doesn't have a predetermined number of members, doesn't reside any one place in particular, and doesn't do certain things on the weekends. I've always thought that when I meet the person i'm meant to spend my life with, we'll work out those details together. Combining efforts seems way more interesting to me, not to mention sustainable as people's dreams change as they are sure to do. I like the adventure of it. I look forward to negotiating those details in true Libra fashion. Love is the binding force in my vision, not how well the person fits into my master plan of global diva domination. (JK...i don't really plan to take over the world with diva force...unless anyone is up for trying that with me.)
The love i thought i shared with my beau is in question. And it hurts. Turns out, he is unsure i fit in his vision. And that makes my vision (of an exciting life discovering even more about him and loving him even more) seem like it ain't gonna happen.
I could be wrong, but relationships of the past appeared to begin by finding someone you could stand and taking it from there. Love used to be all you needed. Identical plans is the new collaboration.
Shame, really. My vision was just starting to take on some lines and color. Not sure how this one will turn out because, as previously stated, it isn't up for discussion. Good thing my beautiful future is flexible like a yogi, taking on new positions even more challenging than before. Wish me luck though...this will be a tough one.
People (both men and women), it seems, sometimes create a vision for their life, complete with lodging, lineages, even transport. The stereotypical house, car, and kids is alive and well, i'm afraid. The plans are made, signed and sealed, and not up for discussion. And then the quest begins to find the right person, a soulmate i suppose, that you can plunk down in that dream life. This person matches all the decor and lives life by the same soundtrack. The person must have the exact same visionary life. That is how you know they are the one.
Now, i'm not opposed to dreams. I have them myself, of course. But my dreams are fluid, murky, without real definition and form. For instance, my future ideal family doesn't have a predetermined number of members, doesn't reside any one place in particular, and doesn't do certain things on the weekends. I've always thought that when I meet the person i'm meant to spend my life with, we'll work out those details together. Combining efforts seems way more interesting to me, not to mention sustainable as people's dreams change as they are sure to do. I like the adventure of it. I look forward to negotiating those details in true Libra fashion. Love is the binding force in my vision, not how well the person fits into my master plan of global diva domination. (JK...i don't really plan to take over the world with diva force...unless anyone is up for trying that with me.)
The love i thought i shared with my beau is in question. And it hurts. Turns out, he is unsure i fit in his vision. And that makes my vision (of an exciting life discovering even more about him and loving him even more) seem like it ain't gonna happen.
I could be wrong, but relationships of the past appeared to begin by finding someone you could stand and taking it from there. Love used to be all you needed. Identical plans is the new collaboration.
Shame, really. My vision was just starting to take on some lines and color. Not sure how this one will turn out because, as previously stated, it isn't up for discussion. Good thing my beautiful future is flexible like a yogi, taking on new positions even more challenging than before. Wish me luck though...this will be a tough one.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Don't Make Me
The other night I attempted to get dumped by inviting my beau to a folksy, estrogen-heavy performance by Toby Lightman. He usually reserves Monday nights for himself as a rule. He claims he is required by his laundry machine, though I believe he keeps his distance to avoid the inevitable CSI Miami episode. For this reason, it was particularly generous of him to drive me, in the rain, to Arlington and sit through equal parts acoustic man-bashing and sappy love ballads.
I was thrilled, giddy with her clever lyrics, thoughtful sentiment, and country/bluesy twang. He appeared to be ready to trade me in for a tattooed death metal drummer chick or throw himself from the nearest monument...i can't be sure which.
As in that weird movie Mating Habits of the Earth-Bound Human, i guess it is true that while dating it is not necessarily the activities we enjoy, but rather the company.
I did appreciate the company thoroughly. And for only a barbeque dinner in exchange, i think i made out like a bandit.
We joked that when the time comes for me to endure uncomfortable male activities, perhaps DC Meatfest or the National Beer Guzzling/Chest Beating Festival, he'll have an ace in the hole with which to convince me. In the meantime, I promise to only play the cd i bought last night solo so not to invoke any traumatic flashbacks.
Don't Wake Me by Toby Lightman
I was thrilled, giddy with her clever lyrics, thoughtful sentiment, and country/bluesy twang. He appeared to be ready to trade me in for a tattooed death metal drummer chick or throw himself from the nearest monument...i can't be sure which.
As in that weird movie Mating Habits of the Earth-Bound Human, i guess it is true that while dating it is not necessarily the activities we enjoy, but rather the company.
I did appreciate the company thoroughly. And for only a barbeque dinner in exchange, i think i made out like a bandit.
We joked that when the time comes for me to endure uncomfortable male activities, perhaps DC Meatfest or the National Beer Guzzling/Chest Beating Festival, he'll have an ace in the hole with which to convince me. In the meantime, I promise to only play the cd i bought last night solo so not to invoke any traumatic flashbacks.
Don't Wake Me by Toby Lightman
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Do the Jane Fonda
I joined a gym the other day. I even met with a personal trainer. What I thought was going to be a complimentary ass whopping turned out to be a sales pitch for mega-expensive PT sessions. Having never been a member of a gym before, I had no idea this was a risk.
Pinching chubby spots, the trainer’s brow furrowed. “What do you eat?” he asks.
“Pasta and cream sauce,” I reply. The brow tangles even more.
“Do you drink alcohol?”
“Yes, bourbon.” He shakes his head.
“How much?”
“A lot.”
And so the conversation went… He scribbled down notes and returned to me with a hopeful look. “I think I can help you,” he grinned, “but you’ll have to be on a diet and work out all the time.” Disappointed, I slump over to the elliptical machine.
What I think was missed in my PT evaluation was that I wasn’t at the gym with aspirations of supermodel stick-figureness. I like my curves and, even more, I like my lifestyle. I’ve already reconciled the fact that my love of pasta will never allow me arms like Madonna and I’m ok with that. Furthermore, I’m chronically lazy; the Mistress of Excuses, the Princess of Bad Influence.
What I’m looking for in an exercise program is the exact least amount of effort I need to put forth to keep eating and drinking whatever I like and stay relatively the same size, accounting for age and seasonal changes. I don’t need rock-hard abs or buns of steel…I just want to look ok naked and have a happy life. I need more than a celery stick, a cigarette, and a laxative (thanks for that C.V.) to be at my best. I’m not fooled by those starving, unhappy faces in magazines.
And for $75 an hour, I think personal training is for the birds. I usually don’t spend $75/hour having fun, after all.
I fired my PT before he even got to make me sweat. Not because I don’t think he could have transformed me into a 5’4” brick house, but because it just doesn’t sound like much fun to eat lettuce instead of noodles and run in place instead of sipping champagne with my friends.
I do plan to show face at the gym every now and then though. They do have some (almost) fun-looking classes and yoga. As long as nobody (and by “nobody” I mostly mean meathead D-bags looking for a screw) talks to me, I think I could be self-persuaded to lift a weight in addition to my pasta fork. Wish me luck!
Jane Fonda by Mickey Avalon
Pinching chubby spots, the trainer’s brow furrowed. “What do you eat?” he asks.
“Pasta and cream sauce,” I reply. The brow tangles even more.
“Do you drink alcohol?”
“Yes, bourbon.” He shakes his head.
“How much?”
“A lot.”
And so the conversation went… He scribbled down notes and returned to me with a hopeful look. “I think I can help you,” he grinned, “but you’ll have to be on a diet and work out all the time.” Disappointed, I slump over to the elliptical machine.
What I think was missed in my PT evaluation was that I wasn’t at the gym with aspirations of supermodel stick-figureness. I like my curves and, even more, I like my lifestyle. I’ve already reconciled the fact that my love of pasta will never allow me arms like Madonna and I’m ok with that. Furthermore, I’m chronically lazy; the Mistress of Excuses, the Princess of Bad Influence.
What I’m looking for in an exercise program is the exact least amount of effort I need to put forth to keep eating and drinking whatever I like and stay relatively the same size, accounting for age and seasonal changes. I don’t need rock-hard abs or buns of steel…I just want to look ok naked and have a happy life. I need more than a celery stick, a cigarette, and a laxative (thanks for that C.V.) to be at my best. I’m not fooled by those starving, unhappy faces in magazines.
And for $75 an hour, I think personal training is for the birds. I usually don’t spend $75/hour having fun, after all.
I fired my PT before he even got to make me sweat. Not because I don’t think he could have transformed me into a 5’4” brick house, but because it just doesn’t sound like much fun to eat lettuce instead of noodles and run in place instead of sipping champagne with my friends.
I do plan to show face at the gym every now and then though. They do have some (almost) fun-looking classes and yoga. As long as nobody (and by “nobody” I mostly mean meathead D-bags looking for a screw) talks to me, I think I could be self-persuaded to lift a weight in addition to my pasta fork. Wish me luck!
Jane Fonda by Mickey Avalon
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