Standing at a Distance

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There is something about seeing someone on TV. There is something about that distance that dumbs them down, makes them less human. Untouchable. Unreal.
I think I was feeling that way about John Mayer. BubbleGum. KISA gives me presents in the form of tivo’ed programming. They have allowed me to Gum out again and again. He’ll patiently roll his eyes and gently say, “oh. him again. okay.” *sigh*
But, last night was in person. We had great seats and a cooperative crowd. My husband would not agree, but I enjoyed everyone sitting down. I’m short. I hate having to peer around heads and in between shoulders. Constantly shifting to catch glimpses. It makes for a long night.
If I had known my camera was allowed I would have snapped away…Next time. If there is one.
+ SET LIST

Vultures ( I called this as the opening song)
Good Love is On the Way (“Good love!” “Good love!”)
No Such Thing
I Don’t Trust Myself (With Loving You) BG sometimes introduces this song as “a song about being a bastard” but this time he said he was a “crazy lover.” Whatever.
I Don’t Need No Doctor (a John Scofield tune, introduced because the band is “bored.”)
Bigger Than My Body
The Heart of Life (“it’s all good”)
Belief
Waiting on the World to Change
Why Georgia
I’m Gonna Find Another You

— encore —
Wait Until Tomorrow (He fooled us with a little intro to another Jimi song. This was just as good, if not better.)
Your Body is a Wonderland (this is better live than it could ever be on the radio. Unfortunately, this was the song I had stuck in my head when I woke up.)
Gravity (I called this one, too).

My favorite parts? BubbleGumGuy being funny guy. The drums. Saying JJ’s name like it was something perverted (but, catching him smoke was even better). The drums. Taking the pop out of Heart of Life. The drums. Funky dance moves. KISA giving in to my teenage whims…. I got TWO shirts! 😉 …and did I mention the drums?

Forgetfulness

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Billy CollinsCollins, Billy. “Forgetfulness.” Questions About Angels. Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1999. 20.

I laughed out loud at this poem. It addresses something I’m facing with this Book Lust challenge, forgetting. I’ve got this mental block towards some of the books I’ve read and Collins says right off the bat the title is the first to go. Eventually, the entire book is lost.

Take A Separate Peace by John Knowles. I remember images, certain lines from that story but I’m not 100% confident I remember the ending. We studied the novel in high school. I was constantly comparing campuses. I was a freshman. My favorite line was, “I jounced the limb” because to me, it implied intention, action taken on purpose. Deliberate action equaled guilt. But, do I remember what happened next? No.

But, back to Billy and his “Forgetfulness” poem. I love the imagery, the common-man voice he used to describe a delicate slipping away. Words like “lurking” and “drifted” are some of my favorites ways to describe the elusive, the untouchable. Memory as something that glides away. It’s beautiful, really.

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust‘s chapter on “Poetry Pleasers” (p187).  Pearl says to read “everything” by Collins.

Excuse Me While I Get Giddy

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John MayerGirly giddy. BoyBandGumSnappin’ Giddy. BubbleGum Giddy. Tonight is body-is-a-wonderland-bubble-gum-guy time.

I told my friend of 25 years I am at least 20 years too late for this kind of concert. She knows I didn’t grow up with a boy band to drool over. Oh, sure. I loved Duran Duran, but I loved/adored/worshipped from afar. Far across the ocean afar. Dad didn’t park outside the civic center, station wagon engine running as he didn’t run through the dos and don’ts driven by teenage angst. I didn’t sit there, toe tapping, heart palpitating, one hand on the door, waiting for his release. I’m behind when it comes to being a screaming lovestruck girly girl.

I want to buy a t-shirt. I heart JM. But, that would be wrong. That implies attraction and BubbleGum is not the adjective. He calls himself Chewbacca, as in the walking carpet from StarWars and yup, I agree. Scary. I wouldn’t want to run into him in a dark alley, tuxedo or not. Really scary with or without the monkey suit. No, I want to buy the shirt (I Heart JM, seriously) because it’s something I missed out on doing when I was 16.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I’ll get sucked in when someone intrigues me. BubbleGum has that intrigue. It’s rumored that he knows Japanese. It’s fact he’s funny. It’s rumored he suffers from anxiety. It’s fact he is generous. It’s rumored he’s a family man. It’s fact he can play the guitar. Rumor & fact aside, I like him. I was the same way when I first met the members of sirsy. They were so down to earth, friendly and welcoming that it completely influenced how I heard their sound. That kind of thing mattered. It still does…with BubbleGum. So, excuse me while I get giddy.

ps~ Okay, I know I didn’t fool some of you with this blog. I’ll admit it…it’s JJ I’m giddy about! If only the heartbeat had his own t-shirt. *sigh*

Believe Me Or Me

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I ran on Friday and this is what I thought about while I was the gerbil.
I am of two minds. I feel mentally ill. On one side of my life I should be upset about the things that were said. About me. On the other side of life, that relationship is behind me and the importance of that person is no more. I’m beginning to think I sided with the wrong side when sides were being taken.
I don’t like insecure people. No, I take that back. I don’t like the way insecurity makes people do and say outrageous, mean things. Bragging to be something they’re not. Lying to lay claim to something they don’t have.
But, on the other hand, maybe I’m jealous of them. When I’m less than confident I shirk from importance. Stay in the shadow of someone more superstar. Keep my mouth shut for fear of saying something stupid. I want to be able to say, I got it going on. I know it’s not true. It’s definitely not me. Maybe I would like to brag about something, anything. But, then again…maybe not. Bottom line, I am who I am. Bad mouthed or not.
Run like a girl. It implies a negative. But. I know better. I run like me.
3.6 miles

Drunk

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We need another night like this. Drunk. Or getting there. Giggly and silly. Giddy and stupid.
My friend asked me out for drinks saying we need this. “We. Need. This.” She stressed every word to make me hear them, understand them. My answer was a sigh. Even getting drinks on campus sounded like work. Later, my mother said I sounded tired when we talked. The phone felt heavy, but I didn’t want to get into it. I couldn’t get into it. She simply wouldn’t understand. Where have I heard that before? I felt bad that I wasn’t even giving her the benefit of the doubt. I simply decided she wouldn’t get it and couldn’t say more. Tired. I let her go on about spaces too small for toddlers, gifts too expensive for birthdays, dates for a visit too inconvenient. Everything too something. I thought about work.

We “moved” my office yesterday. Today I want to buy paint. Someone told me that paint makes everything better. Fresh start. I like that idea. I want honorable colors. Colors that reflect seriousness, authority, respect, the whole thing. Is that even possible? I’ve never had an office of my very own before. I walk around coworkers sensing veiled resentment. It follows me, swirls around me. I want to scream. Don’t hate me because I worked my ass off. I gave up message boards and frivolous websites for a promotion. I stopped wearing jeans and sirsy shirts. I gave up the proverbial water cooler to get ahead. I started doing more than my job. I started doing yours.

I am tired. I will welcome a week of nothing when it gets here. Please get here. Maybe I’ll get to that list of projects. Open that BIG bottle of Merlot and get drunk. Drunk and giddy. Drunk and silly. Drunk.

Amy & Isabelle

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Strout, Elizabeth. Amy & Isabelle. New York: Vintage Books, 1998.

Amy & IsabelleBy sending me a copy last year, my sister introduced Amy & Isabelle way before Nancy did. An advanced reader copy, in fact. This was a BookLust reread because I couldn’t remember how it ended (one of the book lust rules is remembering the story). I think I read it too fast the first time around. That always happens to me with the really good ones. I tear through words and pages and chapters because I need to know What Happens Next. And Next. And Next. I think I’ve said it before, but I sift through words, looking for phrases that catch my imagination, rattle my heart. I underline them to lay claim to them. My favorite from Amy & Isabelle is from page 232, “…and then roof of her life collapsed…” I also to admit I was excited to see the words ‘jesum crow’ (p.224). I spell it j-e-e-z-u-m but I think the phase is a Maine thing through and through. (Amy & Isabelle takes place in Maine.)

Isabelle and Amy are in a typical mother-daughter relationship. Amy is a coming-of-age 16 year old. This is the story of her alienation from her mother, thanks to an exploration of sexuality that her mother, Isabelle is not ready to admit her daughter is capable of, much less ready for. They live alone with each other and must deal with their love/hate struggles without the distraction or guidance or stability of a man to call husband or father. The psychology of this story runs pretty deep. When Amy gets her period for the first time her mother shoves pamphlets at her, thinking it’s better than how her mother handled it by not saying anything at all.

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust in the chapter, “It was a Dark & Stormy Novel” (p128).

If You Dare

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Wedding DressI got married in a hurricane. Ivan the Hurricane to be exact. We, KISA and I, planned for wind. We planned for rain. What we didn’t think of was mud and it was because of the mud that I ruined my gown and my pride.
It all started when I became a selfish bride. I didn’t want a single stranger involved in one of the biggest events of my life. I needed to know every person. So, I chose a neighbor, a reputable seamstress to make my wedding dress. For months we designed, planned and gossiped like girls. We grew close, sharing secrets about relationships. She saw me naked. I got tragic details about her troubled past. We could call each other friend. Nevertheless, she was shocked when I said I wanted to wear hiking boots under the gown. I showed her pictures of “the site” and finally got her to understand what having an “island wedding” meant. She was even more amazed when she learned I’m not a frilly girly girl. I didn’t ask for lace. I didn’t want sparkle. No glitter. No sequins. No long line of satin buttons. No train. No fuss. I didn’t even want white. It took some convincing but I got my way with champagne gold. I chose champagne gold to match my shiny new start to love and marriage. Custom made champagne to be exact. My seamstress, my friend, went along with it, tsking-tsking and shaking her head all the while.
I promised her the dress, as simple as it was, would be beautiful. I promised her I would share pictures after the honeymoon to prove it. I promised to visit her often. Then the rain brought the mud and I ruined the dress. I ruined the dress. How could I face the one person who lovingly, carefully, perfectly stitched the garment of my perfect day? How could I show her the pictures without confessing the dress?
I couldn’t. I didn’t. I brought the dress to two different cleaners who sadly admited it couldn’t be cleaned. Defeated, I went home and buried the champagne gold in the back of the closet. It hangs there, dejected and hasn’t been touched since. I never shared pictures. I never visited. I’d catch sight of her at the grocery store and quickly turn away, averting my friendship.
It’s been over two years and now my seamstress-once-friend has moved away. No forwarding address. I broke promises because of the mud…I broke promises because I didn’t dare.

Behind

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My watch is two days old. I think it’s the 110th watch I’ve owned. This is, by far, the most expensive watch I’ve ever owned. I don’t really love it so I’m wondering how long it will take before I leave it behind. Like all the others.

That’s the thing about losing things you don’t really love. You can’t miss what you don’t love, especially if you don’t love it enough to go looking for it, or even realize its misplacement. I had a friendship that went missing. I didn’t love it so when it disappeared I didn’t take notice. When I finally noticed I didn’t even search for it. I didn’t want it to be found. At all. I wanted it left behind. Is that bad of me… or is that what they call growth?
They say that people outgrow relationships all the time. What about methodically breaking them down, taking them apart, dismantling? I know I have systematically dismantled two in my lifetime (and if you have been reading my blogs on that other space you were witness to one of them. I had to walk through that leaving in a very public way). This time it’s more private, but I can’t say I regret either leaving behind. Then or now. I’m not sorry for dismantling. I’m not even sorry about the ones that dismantled me. I probably deserved it.

About Time

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Davies, Paul. About Time: Einstein’s Unfinished Revolution. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1995.

About TimeI am often snagged by great one-liners. Here’s one of my favorites from About Time. “We are slaves of our past and hostages to the future” (p23). It’s a standard idea. Nothing too dark or deep. What I liked was the mental imagery of being tethered to the past. I have this particle theory and it somehow applies.

I have to admit, I categorized tagged this book on librarything as “attempted” because after 88 pages I sent it home. Maybe I’m too distracted by the other books I’m reading. Maybe I’m too distracted by all things work. Maybe I’m just too distracted. Period. Whatever the reason, I am bored by this book. There are parts that fascinate me. Einstein’s “twin” theory is amazing. But, for the most part it’s like watching paint dry. It doesn’t interest me the way it should. This is the first book I’m using the “50 page Rule” on. See Rule #2.

BookLust Twist: From Book Lust‘s chapter called “Science Books for the Interested but Apprehensive Lay Person.” Pearl elaborates on p. 212 saying, “About Time…makes a mind-boggling topic as understandable as it can be for nonphysicists. (If you only had time to read it.) Well, I attempted to make the time!

House of Sand & Fog (w/ sorta spoiler)

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House of Sand and FogDubus III, Andre. House of Sand and Fog. New York: Vintage, 2000.

The whole time I was reading this I kept thinking two things. First, why can’t these people communicate, and how much am I missing because I’m not understanding the culture? What’s getting lost because I’m lost on the psychology? I kept mentally screaming, “you simply are not getting it!” first at one character, then another and another.

From the very beginning of this novel I felt as if I were a puppet – being played by both and all sides. I felt sorry for everyone involved and couldn’t decide who deserved my sorrow more. The Iranian family because Father had to work two jobs and they lived beyond their means behind a veil of pride and culture? The down-on-her-luck girl who lost her house because she wasn’t on top of her A game? The cop who was stuck in a loveless marriage and displayed Robin Hood crookedness whenever he saw fit? Everyone in our society who can’t pronounce Middle Eastern names? The drowning in paperwork county that messed everything up in the first place?

It’s the story of misunderstanding. When Kathy Nicolo loses her house to the country for owed taxes on a business she never had the miscommunications begin. When her house is sold to Massoud Amir Behrani the misunderstandings continue. Things become further complicated by Lester Burdon, a deputy sherrif who does things his own way. Caught in the web are Behrani’s family. Innocent and slightly less obsessed.

When people start to die, I decided I was sorry for everyone involved. Most of all I was sorry for the lack of communication whether it was complicated by culture or not.

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust (p.129): Included in the chapter “It Was a Dark & Stormy Novel.”

Homeward Bound

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Well. I should clarify. I’m bound by home but I’m not homeward bound…not yet, anyway. KISA & I have started the planning process. The date has been set, the house has been booked. So, we’re on a roll, so to speak. Figuring out when to go is half the battle.
I’m excited about this upcoming stay. We’ve rented a childhood’s friend’s childhood home. It will be like living in the house of childhood past. How much has it changed? What will I remember? Will I find the crayon scrawl I made behind the closet door? I can remember it like it was yesterday. Inspired by Harold I held a purple crayon. Hunkered down I drew a purple heart with a pounding heart. Will it still be there?
We asked friends to come with us. We always go through this process with trepidation. Will our friends “survive” the island? It’s always a crapshoot. No electricity. No Xbox. No cell phone. Who can take that kind of isolation without going crazy within the hour? When deciding who to ask we always throw around names and take bets. What are the odds? Does she blowdry her hair? Does he have to check his email all the time? Can they walk a mile? Live without Big Mac? To get the island is to get me.

What I Wanted

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 There is a man on the other side of life that I desperately need to talk to. I have a huge sense of failing self right now. I don’t have him anymore so conversation is more than difficult. More than a little needed.

I made Director. True to institution form it all came about strange and backwards. Pass-It-On communications. A coworker stepped into my office to congratulate me before I could even put my bag down. My boss cried right before my wide, baffled eyes. I had a headache. All I wanted to was go home, go back to bed. I crawled here with barely my wits about me. I have videos to watch…from the comfort of the queen. 9am and already it was a bad day despite the Director thing. A dream about being a human punching bag, the drive to work that took twice as long. I arrived in the clothes I had slept in. The 8am class that was more babysitting than I cared to admit. All I cared about was rewinding the day, starting over with a fresh cup of coffee and a different dose of perspective. Not to mention the desire to escape Five Day Puke. Did I mention I had a headache?

But, I made Director, Dad. If you were standing in front of me would you say you are proud? I made Director. This is what I wanted. Don’t you remember? You taught me to love books from day one. Remember when we would pour over the library catalog, circling our choices? You taught me to follow the author, respect the spine, honor the due date. You read Clancy and Turrow. I read Joyce by day…and Jong under covers with a flashlight. You taught me to love to read. Fight for the right to write. Still, I have to remind myself I’m not that librarian. I made Director. To some that means nothing except the chance to make meaningless snide remarks. I can hear you now. You’re saying it only means they don’t understand. I don’t think I even understand. But, it’s what I wanted.

Flowing Grace

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I took a class last night at Now & Zen Yoga that was this side of unique. Live music. Different instructor. New moves. Lots more bodies. At first I was nervous. All around me people were bending and holding poses I could only imagine achieving. Poses I hope to achieve someday. I think it was that hope that helped me relax. There was time to have a conversation with me, myself and moi and we discovered a tight hamstring and a small tension in between the shoulder blades. We spent the rest of time before class working out the kinks and the insecurity.
When class finally started I forgot all about the hamstring. I barely noticed the back. Everything flowed in the fun. Some poses were brand new for me but I bravely tried every single one, even the binding ones I didn’t think I was ready for. I forgot about the neighbors, but never the music. It stayed with me, flowed through me. Pulses of beat, pulses of courage.
At the end of class the instructor asked us to think about our practice, to think about the goals we set for ourselves. I thought about how back in the beginning of January all I wanted was a daily practice. In that daily practice I had hoped to find three little things – relief, confidence and peace. Relief for my knee, confidence in my movements, and peace in everything else. Okay, so the peace thing isn’t exactly a “little” thing. I was asking a lot with the peace part. I wanted calm. I wanted patience. I needed Grace. Basic. Relaxation. In class I realized I had moved beyond wanting relief, confidence and peace. I could now add comfort to the mix. I am ready to embrace something for the soul. Stretch beyond the physical to the spiritual.

Love Like That

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I am loved. KISA is out in the dying light trying to snow-blow the driveway. Make that drivewayS. Grandpa, parents, and of course us. We are all snowbound. He is a bundled up black head to toe snowman, home from a full day at work, trudging behind a loud machine. I know the kid in him enjoys throwing snow 30 feet into the air, but the adult hates the cold. I’ve put on hot water for mocha and I’ve cranked the thermostat (this is a big deal). Anything to alleviate some of my guilt for being inside and warm. 

I am loved. Sometimes it takes me a looong time to accept that. Sometimes I take it for granted. Ms Me, Myself & Moi received two packages of love. I’m still trying to get over the goodness of the guys.

GN~ You are my favorite heartbeat. Your gift. It. Blew. Me. Away…seriously. I don’t know what else to say. Out of the blue. I’ve already submerged myself in a little Neil and a little more Carter. I am giddy over the “red sparkle kit” and “the analysis”. Okay, I love the analysis. I’ve always been a Dave fan…I don’t know how to repay You. Well, I do. I’m working on it. We’re working it. Blown Away. I can’t stop smiling thinking of all the good “noise” I have to watch and hear and love. Thank You. PS~ Can’t wait for Vol. II – will it be You? 🙂

SPB~ You crack me up. Did you remember I’m earthtones or was that a lucky guess? I love, love, love my new look. I’ll confess I went to work wearing the same DragoRossi I slept in. I got strange looks at the faculty meeting but at least I was comfortable. I don’t know what made you put me on your list, but I’m glad you did. If there is anyone who knows the benefit of soft clothing (besides Ruby) it’s you. I’m grateful for the spot in your heart even if I don’t deserve it.

Valentine’s Day is being reconsidered. I’m sorry for the cynical. Love works in mysterious ways. I won’t even try to figure it out. It makes me cry just attempting to sort it out. Just know that it’s there for you. Love. You. Thank. You.

6 Nightmares

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6 NightmaresLake, Anthony. 6 Nightmares. Boston: Little, Brown & Co., 2000.

The subtitle to this book is, “Real Threats in a Dangerous World and How America Can Meet Them.” Yikes. What was even more yikes for me was the fact that this book was written in 2000…October. Not even a year before the attacks of September 11th, 2001.  It gave me such goosebumps to read this Book Lust pick. Lake states things like, “If such an attack occurs [wmd], we must be able to say, looking back on this period, that we did everything we could to prevent it and to deal with its devastating consequences. The hard truth is that we are not doing so” (p. 21). While the U.S. hasn’t been hit with the kind of weapon of mass destruction Lake means, it’s sobering to think commercial flights were turned into weapons with “devastating consequences” less than a year after those words had been published.

In addition to scaring the bejeezus out of me, Lake writes lyrically and with humor. “The collapse of the Soviet Union and its empire has lifted the lid on a seething cauldron of suppressed hostilities” (p113). I loved this imagery. Seething is one of my favorite words, probably because I do the verb so often. This passage reminded me of Natalie Merchant’s song, “This House is on Fire” (2001) from her album, Motherland. In it she states, “you go passing wrong for right and right for wrong. People only stand for that for just so long.” There’s that seething again.
The humor came with a little pun-intended remark, “…in this case we wanted to saddle up, and Chirac did not put Descartes before our horse” (p.150). It made me giggle at an otherwise tense moment. Comic relief? There were hundreds of little tongue-in-cheek gigglers. I just liked that one the best.

Lake pointed out many different opportunities for the U.S. to be at risk. He lists past enemies as well as potential future ones, giving careful reason for each threat. He doesn’t pretend to have all the answers, but he certainly gives us something to think about.

BookLust Twist: From chapter 9/11 in Book Lust. Pearl recommends this as “background reading” (p172).