Saturday, January 28, 2006

20 Year Challenge

I think every generation has a "Where were you when..." moment in time.

Of course these days, it's 9/11.

But also for people my age, the Challenger Explosion brings back very vivid memories.

For me, I remember mostly confusion-about how it happened and who could it happen to next. I also remember feeling extremely sad for the families of the people who died.

I was sitting in the gym on a chair because my knee hurt. Everyone else was on the floor. When we watched the playback on the TV, I remember getting out of the chair and joining my classmates-I wanted to be as close as I could be to the people I knew.

That was 20 years ago. It's amazing how time just slips away. Amazing and scary, really...

Scenes From A Lunch Table

I went to the mall yesterday for lunch. It has been a long, long time since I've been shopping on a week day in the middle of the day. Here are some observations:

Hot guys go to the mall for lunch. They are not necessarily the kind of guys you can have an intelligent conversation with, but, hot damn, they are nice to look at.

A lot more people than you would think actually BRING their lunch to the mall and eat it in the food court.

Watching a grandfather pretend to gobble up his grandautghter's fries (and making her laugh uncontrollably) is so precious it made me want to hug him.

Did I mention the hot guys?

Some people have no idea what is appropriate to do in public and what will make someone run away screaming. I witnessed one woman flossing her teeth in the middle of the food court. And let me just say-it was very "Dumb & Dumber". Ew.

The people who work at the food places are actually much nicer during the day than at night.

It makes me wonder what the school age kids are doing in the mall when they should be at school. These are the types of curfews we should be imposing, NOT the kind that doesn't all them to be in the mall after school w/o supervision.

It is apparently all the rage for stay at home mom's to: A. Only style the front of their hair, leaving the back flat and horrible to look at. B. To wear "Juicy" across their asses. Maybe they're hoping we'll look at their ass instead of their hair.

It's true that people can sense when you are staring. Sometimes, it's funny to keep doing it. Other times, you are embarrassed.

Friday, January 27, 2006

Brandy New

I hate it when people say something is "Better than new". What does that mean? Better than new...

In my opinion, there are few things that can be considered better when they are old-for all the rest, give me new. The exceptions are: Love, friendship, and jeans. And also lasagne.

Though new love is exciting and exhilarating, old love is comforting-it's warm and gentle and reliable. It's walking around in comfy socks and pj's with messy hair and sweatshirts, reading in each others arms, or in separate rooms-but always in each other's hearts. It's knowing what the other person is feeling just by seeing a certain look and it's knowing when to give space, and when to hold on tight.

Make new friends, but keep the old, one is silver and the other's gold. New friends bring joy in their differences, and the excitement of discovery. Old friends bring joy in their differences, and the excitement of knowing their quirks-anticipating side splitting laughter or all knowing hugs. They are the threads that keep your life together.

Your favorite pair of jeans-the ones that you don't have to lay down to button, the ones you always get complimented on. They can be dressed up or down, based soley on cute shoes and a little lip gloss or sneaks and a hoodie. They are worn in the best places, and support you in others, and they only got to be that way because they are well used, and loved.

Lasagna. It's the breakfast of Italian-American champs everywhere. Or at least the Northeast. (Right?) It's good cold. It's good re-heated. It's gets mushy and flavors begin to meld. It feeds college kids easily for a week. It's good eaten right out of the dish. The day before? It was too hot, too runny and hard to get out in one piece. This is why it is better when it's less than new.

Clearly, there are a few things that are better when they are older. Otherwise, for the most part, my opinion is that not much can be "Better than new".

Thursday, January 26, 2006

Frickin Frey

I don't know about you, but I don't feel betrayed.

I'm currently about to finish James Frey's "A Million Little Pieces" and I've gotta say-I don't really care that he didn't spend 3 months in jail or that he can't recall in detail his dental surgery. It's a good read, and it inspired me.

And isn't that what a good book is all about?

Granted, Frey's style of writing is very "natural" and written the way someone would think. Perhaps if, prior to reading it, I learned that some of it was fiction, I would be put off by this-but I really doubt it. Quirky books are all the rage these days-just look at Jonathan Safran Foer's "Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close" (which I loved) and Mark Haddon's "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time". The language patterns used help add flavor to otherwise flat characters.

And you are right-neither of those books were sold as "memoirs". But do you really care? Do you personally feel betrayed because parts of the book were embellished? When your uncle catches a fish "THIS BIG" do you dis-own him when you see he only caught a minno?

If someone with a drug problem was inspired by the book and it prompted them to change their life-that is the important thing.

If, when reading a chapter of Frey's scattered thinking, someone felt comforted by the fact that their life was not as bad-that is the important thing.

If his words opened a single mind-that is the important thing.

The book should not have been billed as a memoir. But it was. Deal with it. Read the words and be inspired-because even if part of it is true- knowing that Frey did indeed overcome a drug and alcohol problem is enough for me.

House Broken: Part 13

(It's been a while: read part 12 here)

She didn’t know why-but she loved him. Everything about him told her to run, except for her heart, which pleaded with her to hold firm and enjoy the ride.

He liked to flirt; it was in his nature. Though it was common knowledge that most girls thought he was goofy, there were some, she was sure, that saw it as charming. After all, didn’t she?

He always had to be right. And when he was not, he would pout, making it difficult to move on until you let him have his way. A lot of her older friends told her to watch out for it, because eventually, they said, it would get old.

But most of all, he needed to be the center of attention, at every moment, of everyday; it was always about him.

And yet none of those flaws existed when she saw the look in his eyes whenever they gazed into hers.

His eyes, clear gray-blue, were always smiling when they were together. They told her without words that she completed him; that she was the one he had been waiting for his entire life.

They told her long, beautiful stories about his sadness and of the pieces of his heart he hoped that she could mend. They implored her to return and willed her to never give up on him, even though he knew that she should.

And her heart returned the call.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006


Fingers tapping, gum snapping, my days drag their feet. It’s time like these that I long for youth-for less responsibility and the ability to “go left” whenever I feel restless.

“Where should we go?” we asked a random boy in the shuttle van.

“New York” he replied.

Eyebrows raised, glances exchanged, a decision still left unmade.

“We’ve already been there. We slept in our car in a hospital parking lot.”

Gasps seep out from the prude in the corner.

More smiles from us, 2 crazy and free girls, whose mothers know nothing of our gallivanting.

“Canada” said the driver. He knew us from a party last week, and also from Psychology class.

Sideways smiles, sly and clear; a definitive yes.

With nothing but the clothes on our backs and our thirst for adventure, we went left, flying high into a memory that would last 2 lifetimes.

Those days seem so far away from where I sit today; a homeowner, a boss, an aunt…a planning fool without the time to explore. Oh, I have days where I could go, but then I remember a bill I have to pay, or laundry that has to be done...

And so the wind finds other people to glide over and my would be adventures hibernate once more.

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

True Colors

I'm completely confused and concerned about where this world is going.

I feel like I need to remind people that it is 2006 and that we live in America. (Ok. So some of you don't. But I do and we're supposed to be a melting pot.) People are seriously going mad.

And I could just be more aware of it because Mr. CM has been talking about it for the last month or so. But tonight it was directed at me.

As with every town, mine has a "nice" section and a "not so nice" section. The "not so nice" section is not even bad. It's just where the lower income housing is. It is, actually, the part of town where I live.

The first week I lived here I went to a grocery store in the "nsn" section, just up the street. When I walked in, it was as if time stopped. No exaggeration, people stopped talking and just stared at me. I was the only white person in there.

Not caring, being on top of the world because I owned my own house and these new people were my new neighbors, I smiled and said hi to everyone. Everyone. Not one person said hello back and most stared right through me.

When I got up to the register to pay, the cashier would not bag my groceries. When I asked for a bag, he pointed to where they were and said in a not so friendly voice, "There they are" and walked away from his register.

Up until today, that has been the only form of discrimination or any form of unfriendliness I have encountered while living here. Everyone else, even in that same shopping center, is very, very nice.

Today I was in the other grocery store on the other end of town. I realized that something I bought rang up $3 over what it was supposed to and I asked the boy who was ringing me out if he could check on it. Because he couldn't leave his register, he asked the other boy, who was bagging, to go look. In the meantime, a woman placed her groceries on the belt and waited. She looked impatient.

After a few minutes, it was fairly obvious that the bagger did not know where to look, and the lady was now very impatient. I jokingly said, "He must be lost." The cashier laughed and said, "Yeah, I think you are right."

To which the lady in line behind me said something to the effect of, "You only said that because he is black."

(She is black, the cashier is white, I am white and the bagger is black)

I was dumbfounded. I do not know what lead her to say this, and am still quite thrown by the fact that she verbalized it, even if she was thinking it.

I was visibly shaking and replied, "I'm sorry, but that's simply not true."

She didn't reply but she gave me a "Do you really expect me to believe that?" look. The only other thing I could say was, "I'm sorry you think that is true."

By that time the bagger came back and the cashier was trying to get me out as fast as possible. I thanked both of the boys and walked out.

I have no idea what lead her to believe that I said the boy got lost because he was black. In fact, to be honest with you, I didn't even realize that he was black until she said it. (I'm sure I did realize it but it was not a blatant "this boy is black" thought, just like it was not a "the boy who is ringing me out is white") Perhaps she had a bad day and was simply angry at the world, and it was just an easy way to blow off steam.

Whatever the reason, it was completely uncalled for and I am saddened that people like that exist, let alone live in my town.

Seriously people, wake up. There are more important things in this world than what color you are or are not, or what God you worship. Focus on being a good HUMANS.

Thank you for listening everyone. I'm sorry I always rant. I'll post better things for the rest of the week.

Toosdae ?'s

...Pretty please? (Bats her eyelashes and flashes a smile...)

1. Would you rather have steam blow out of your ears every time you get angry or have a long tongue that rolls down to the floor every time you see someone hot?

2. If you could spend one day as:
A) a member of the opposite sex
B) a member of a different race
C) an animal
...which would you pick and why?

3. Are you more of a road trip person or a cruise/resort person?

1. I don't get angry very often so I think I'd choose the steam. There are only a few people who make me angry and steam blowing out of my ears would make them angry, and therefore, would make me laugh...which is always a good thing in my book. Plus, you never know where your tongue will land-there are some really gross floors out there.

2. I would choose to spend a day as a man. Though I love learning about different cultures and races, those things can be replicated with makeup and costumes, or even by being assimilated into another family of a different background. Being a member of the opposite sex would allow me to feel what a man feels emotionally and therefore I could understand them more. I'd also like to feel just how sensitive their family jewels really are, cause they always talk about that.

3. You might not think this because I worked at Disney, but I'm totally a a road trip girl. I love to get in the car and just drive-sometimes without even knowing where I'm going. It's fun to explore and often times getting lost with a friend creates memories that will NOT slip listlessly away.


Monday, January 23, 2006

Dear Maggie: Reversed

Stacks of people I once knew
sit in boxes,
red and blue.

Places I once have been...
I remember you
once again.

Why is it that things you do not want to remember just won't fall out of your head but other memories slip listlessly away, never to be recalled again, no matter how hard you try.

Something in my environment today reminded me of a terrible memory. And hearing the words in my head brought back the same sinking feeling that I had when they originally jammed themselves into my ears, and apparently, my heart. And a few things bother me about that.

First, I do not know what it was that I heard...smelled...that made this memory resurface, and so I can't avoid it the next time it's around.

Second, this memory still has power. How do I disarm it? Especially when I thought that it was pretty much already dead?

Third, I don't want to stop remembering good things about people who hurt me. I like that I can do this and that other people have told me it inspires them to try to do the same. I like that by keeping the happy memories, I remember a time when someone was also happy...but keeping good memories sometimes reminds me of the bad ones, and I'm not sure I want to keep skirting around them.

So what now? I threw out some pictures today, and I didn't initially want to do that, but seeing the face of someone who hurt me after the memory resurfaced freaked me out a little bit.

How can I keep remembering good things and not necessarily forget the bad, but take the power away from them and convert it to strength in me?

Letters From A Cardboard Box

I'd like to start this post with a disclaimer.

*I am not a bitch. It's just that my biggest pet peeve are people who are inconsiderate of others.

Excuse me, Monkey Lady, but do you really think that I believe it when you say that you "Didn't know" I was in the middle of a conversation?

Because I'm pretty sure everyone in the office could hear it, so I'm wondering why on earth you couldn't whilst standing 2 feet from my desk.** If you have a hearing problem, I would be happy to help you get help.***

And when I confront you about interrupting a very obvious conversation, please refrain from lying**** to me by saying that you, in fact, did not realize I was in the middle of a conversation. Because, again, everyone else could hear it-we work in a cardboard box sized office.

I understand though, to my chagrin, that confronting you on this issue is in vain, as you will be back to your old, selfish ways in the immediate future. Therefore, my only hope is that you come down with laryngitis and can not talk for a week.*****

**It's because you are rude and you talk over people, not because you couldn't hear the conversation.
***The only problem you have is that you are rude and you think you are more important than the rest of the world.
****Because this adds to your inner ugliness.
*****This is where the "I'm really not a bitch I just play one on this Blog" disclaimer comes in, as I really don't wish her to be sick...ok, maybe a little I do.


What does this mean?

"When I grow up, I want to be a water bed."

Please advise...all comments will be appreciated. Especially the creative ones that make me smile.

Click Click Click Click Click

Last night my sister and I went to see The Click 5 in New Haven. As always with my sisters and I, a little hilarity surrounded us the whole night. I understand that these things mean little to you, dear reader, but for me, they are funny and so I blog on...

C-Unit: "This guy is freaking me out. He keeps edging closer and closer to us."
Mags: "He's harmless-he's just a loser who's here by himself and is looking for people his age to hang with."
CU: "No, he's really freaking me out."
Mags: "C-he's fiiiine...he's just lonely."
CU: "Can I switch spots with you then?"
Mags: "No."

And then at the upstairs bar...
Mags: "OMG-for REAL this time!"

I wasn't aware the "Fro-Hawk" was a popular do these days. Apparently so.

Bass player Ethan from The Click 5-HOT. If he were a little older and I a little thinner, I suspect we'd have a good time together.

Yip Yip Yip Yip-EYE EYE EYE EYE-Heeee Hawwww.
If my Mother even suggested she use this to find me in a large crowd I'd rip her uterus out-let alone if she ACTUALLY DID IT. (Freak)

Going to an all ages show has it's benefits. For me, it was mainly that I had a clear view of the stage because everyone else was shorter. (Except for "Fro-Hawk" boy who's hair, as you may have guessed, was large.

I do not like the way some people say the word "Moon." I did not realize that the pronunciation was up for debate, however "Mune" (as said like Tune) is apparently another version. Hear this-if you said "Moon" in this fashion, stop it right now.

I like it when ugly people think they are sexy. It's very funny.

Getting to hear my 2 favorite Click 5 songs played live rocked. "Friday Night" and "I'll Take My Chances". They also played 2 new songs that aren't released, and I can say that both are stupendous. (Yes, stupendous)

Live music is best when the musicians are visibly enjoying themselves.

Eric Dill (who is surprisingly cool) must have an automatic pick dispenser in his jacket with the amount of guitar picks he threw out at the audience. Either that or he mastered the "what's this I see behind your ear" trick and modified it to his liking.

Little girls scream. Loud.

Sometimes you feel old just because of your words. Last night mine were, "Thank you very much." after I had a CD signed by one of the opening bands. Sad, but true.

Hearing your younger sister say, "Do you feel special because he carded you?" also makes you feel old. (Thanks Biotch)

There are signs everywhere. C-Unit just can't find them. 8-)

Crazy curly haired guy with the glasses makes cool noises on the mic.

When a boy says, "How's it goin" you should probably respond. Otherwise he'll walk away forlorn and maybe even cry.

Live music: awesome.