Letting Go.

Ok, so, according to "The Language of Letting Go", today I am to let go of the wants and desires it's taken me this long to identify. Why? Because when one such as I figures out those things that I want and have been denied for so long, the controlling survivor in me turns near obsessive with the frustration that comes with trying to attain a goal and failing. Yeah, fucking figure that one out.
So, whereas last week was "Honesty Week", this week is "Letting Go Week".
Enough of longing.
Enough of Desire.
Onwards towards Peace.

In other news... I caught the bouquet at Becky and Josh's Wedding.
Girls, it's not hard to do. Simple baseball really, and physics.
Protip: If there is a beam overhead, chances are the bouquet will hit it. It will then go straight down. Best to postion yourself behind the Bride and underneath said beam.
Otherwise, just know that more than likely, she's gonna throw it straight back with little followthrough. Just get behind her and off to one side a little. If she's right handed, chances are your best bet is to stand just to the left of her. And vice versa if she's left handed. Also, the best time to get it is just as it makes it's final descent. In otherwords, just yoink it out of the sky.

Yeah, I've caught a few of these things. I'm fiercely competitive. However, if one just lets the thing come to her, without all the shoving and crap, chances are, she'll catch it without any embarrassing elbows to eyes or wrestling matches with the flower-girl.

Thought for the Day

Discovering the fraud of recycling is like finding out there's no Santa.

"Hilarity Ensued": Over Used and WELL Over The Goddamned Shark

Ok, ENOUGH with the "Hilarity Ensued" bullshit to describe what happened next after everybody got drunk and something funny happened.

Honestly, it ranks up there under "All Your Base" for popular internet in-jokes. And Chuck Norris. And Snakes on a Goddamned Plane.

Fucking shit fuck. Enough.

Another Turn of the Wheel

Seeing someone you saw just about everyday after 9 months of absense is odd.
Shocking and strange.
And it tends to bring back the sad.
And longing for the happy.

Mature Decisions are Mature Because They're Difficult.

I put an end to something this evening.
Something that I was really enjoying...and yet not all at the same time.
I realized that this was yet, another instance of me putting someone else before me
thinking that it was the best I could do.
I deserve more.
I want more.

And now some lyrics:

Au lendemain de nos déboires
Pourra t'on parler d'amour
Mon amour
Ecoute bien cette histoire
C'est l'histoire de la bête et la belle

Dieu sait que j'ai ramé
Mais j'ai gardé mes sous ma pauvre
Dignité
Car l'argent est la revanche
Que la bête prendra sur la belle

Les drogues étaient trop douces
Mais quelle exquise petite folie
Mon amour
Les drogues sont la seule route
Qui fera de la bête une belle

Non ne me demande pas
Pourquoi j'ai tellement peur de mourir
Alors que la mort verra
La bête s'unir à la belle

Bien qu'il nous ai brûlés
Parlons encore d'amour
Car l'amour est le plus vrai
C'est le cadeau de la bête à la belle

Non ne me demande pas
Pourquoi j'ai tellement peur de mourir
Alors que la mort verra
La bête s'unir à la belle

Alors que la mort verra
La bête s'unir à la belle
La bête s'unir à la belle

La bête s'unir à la belle
-The Real Tuesday Weld

Stupid Ladybusiness

Seriously. Every couple of months I can tell whether or not it would be very wise to double up on the contraception.
How do I know?
By the searing ripping pain that attacks whichever side is releasing a fertility bomb.
This month, it's on the right side. So to the untrained feeler, it can be mistaken for an appendix attack.
Yes, it hurts that much, and yes, I've gone to the emergency room a couple of times for it.
So, I'm home today because it hurts to walk.
I have no advil.
It's raining.

I can't believe I'm going to write about this..

Goddamned motherfucking My Fair Brady.
Does anyone else just honestly look at this couple of wastes of space with mouths agape and die a little inside?
I do.
Let me preface by saying that I know that most of the show is scripted.
But Jesus Christ on a Cracker! if there are 2 people in this world who should NOT be married to eachother, Fucking these two are they.
From the episode featuring this douchebag's twisted proposal where he basically makes her think he's going to leave her and then presents her with a ring to the episode I've happened upon tonight where he gets drunk at dinner two nights before the blessed event, threatens, YET AGAIN, to call everything off. It's really frightening actually, and I really wish that she would just leave him. He is abusive, manipulative, and just extremely un-goddamned-healthy. The fact that he's not hitting her already is amazing, and it's really just a matter of time. He's a drunk too.

This is so bad for young people to watch, and now the frickin' wedding planner is counselling them.
I...there are no words.
This is so evil.
Oh, I should point an interesting signpost that's marked their marriage thus far:
The church almost burned to the ground due to a helium problem.
Amost. Burned. To. The. Ground.
Toward the end of my relationship with The Douche, my Claddagh ring that I'd had for almost 20 years broke apart in 3 pieces. I will never, ever, ignore such signs again. Maybe they should do the same.

Wait...the chick who played Cindy Brady...she's wearing an "I Love Borat" t-shirt to the pre-wedding bbq.
She is my new hero.

Hm.

one day...

Benadryl: Antihistamine? Or Gateway into a Halluncinogenic Hyper Reality??

I'm just sayin'. And do you have any idea how long it's taking me to type this right now?
The good news is The Rash is somewhat at bay.
The bad news:
I have to oversee a project this afternoon that may now end up including photos of children in drag and Dalian renderings of circus peanuts.

Trains.

Does This Rash Look Infected?

Woke up this morning to a puffy, itchy, burny face, and little red bumps all over my arms and torso.
Fantastic. I have No idea what it is.
All I know is that ibuprofen ain't working, and this itch stuff I got actually solves the itching by BURNING my skin.

What in the fucking fuck?
I never used to be allergic to ANYTHING.

Just stick me in a bubble.

Where's my inhaler??

These Dreams Go on When I Close My Eyyyyeees...

ok, so last night...wait. Do I start EVERY entry with "ok, so"?
If that is the case, I apologize for poor variety and shitty, shitty writing.
Anyway,
Last night before I went to sleep, I asked the Goddess to send me some advice via a dream on how I should move forward in the coming months.
Here's what she sent me.

I was in an audition for a grad-school program at some ridiculously hoity-toity presitgious conservatory type situation. I had no monologue prepared...well, none that I could remember, but it didn't matter as all I managed to do was stand on a piano like, on the bit of wood right above the keyboard over the edge of which are the strings, break the piano, which then wasn't a piano, see an apple, and suggest that I sing an Aria from a book I liked to call (in high school) "21 Dego-Ditties You Like to Sing": "Sebben Crudele"
whose lyrics are thus:

Sebben Crudele,
Mi fai languir,
sempre fedele.
sempre fedele ti voglio amar.

Sebben Crudele.
Mi fai languir,
Sempre fedele ti voglio amar.

Con la lunghezza,
Del mio servir,
La tua fierezza,
La tua fierezza,
Saprò stancar,
La tua fierezza,
Saprò stancar.

Sebben Crudele,
Mi fai languir,
sempre fedele.
sempre fedele ti voglio amar.

Sebben Crudele.
Mi fai languir,
Sempre fedele ti voglio amar


Then I dreamt I got into a fight with a shoe sales person at a department store over a pair of Tivas. I don't own Tivas.

Thank you Mother Goddess, my head is now flown.

Tom Jones is a Sexy Bitch

Jesus Christ on a Cracker.
Now I know why all the ladies in Vegas require personal feminine wipes after seeing one of his shows.
Oops.
Did I just say that out loud?

Saturday Night at Home

I've spent most of today in my favorite spot... on my ridiculously comfortable sofa.
Right now, I'm waiting for a meatloaf I made last week to defrost.
I've got Batman Begins on. I'm wating for the scene where the guy bites into the to the top of another dude's head. It's one of my brother's favorite scens. I've never noticed it, so yeah, I'm looking forward to it.
But, here's a protip for the Dark Knight: When an entire city is under the influence of the baddest trip inducing shrooms ever, it MIGHT not be that great an idea to start showing off your incredible wingspan. Further scaring the absolute crap out of these poor poeple...causing them to bite into heads like apples. I dunno, that could just be me.

Anyway, the weekend has been pretty fun. Had some drinks with some friends on Thursday and Friday...however I think I may have gotten us banned from singing karaoke at Carol's on Thursdays. I kind of got into a fight with the karaoke nazi for having the audacity to ask me for more money to bump our songs up when I had been watching like 9 people go up 3 and 4 times to our 1 turn. So, I asked him, he asked for more money, I told him that sicne his behavior toward me had been bordering on harrassment all night I shouldn't have to give him an additional 5 bucks. Well, he got all kinds of sass all over his drunken face , told me that I could sing but that was going to be the last time... I didn't even let him finish. I just turned on my heel, collected my two friends, and left. I will be complaining to the owners.

AAAAAHHH! I just saw the guy's head get bitten!!! Fucking ew. I have to rewind that! YIKES.
And ZOUNDS some more!

But here's what grinds my damn gears about thes superhero movies. Why can't they just GET THE GODDAMNED GIRL IN THE END???

Ah well.

So, yeah, that's my Saturday. GRIPPING I know, but what can I say?
I'm getting old.

Christing Christ

That is all.

Neurotic, Neurotic...

Of late, and by "of late" I mean for the past 10 years, I've been "doing the work to make my life more fulfilling."
Read: therapy.
Alright, so, recently, I made a discovery.
I experience anxiety when I feel depressed.
Why?
Well, I was officially diagnosed "Depressed" a few years back and started medication to help start "not being Depressed." I started on Zoloft, which, for all intents and purposes, shuts down ALL feelings. Not just the sad, anxious ones. And it was great. For 2 years I was free of the crippling sense of doom and gloom I'd been living with my entire life. Sure, I couldn't cry anymore, but who cared? Certainly not me. I was MEDICATED! Then I lost my job and had to stop the Zoloft. Which was cool because then I COULD feel again and the sad wasn't nearly as sad or as often as it was in the past. And I felt pretty much ok with how I was feeling.

Then, I had an episode. The result of which was a prescription for Xanax, and a new, less numbing medication...Welbutrin. Also, out of the episode was born this blog...

Where am I going with this?
Ah, yes, the anxiety about the Sad. Well, I've determined that as a result of knowing what NO FEELING feels like, the presence of feelings on my current medical cocktail gives me pause, and worry. Rather than just accept the ebb and flow, the cresting and troughing of mood, I freak the fuck out and start wondering:
"What's wrong with me?"
"Why am I feeling depressed on meds?"
"What more can I be doing?"
"What am I not doing?"
"What needs to be fixed in my life right this second and if it can't be fixed then I am a total failure at life and should just consign myself to an existence in some romote locale subsisting on jams and jellies I make from the wild blackberries and crabapples that grow wild on the hillside".

And the fun doesn't stop there! Somehow, I have managed to continue a trend of not allowing myself permission to feel "negative emotions" without harsh judgement. Anger, fear, hate, sorrow, weakness, even hope are met with a stern talking to by my inner voice. I am an absolute MASTER at talking myself out of feeling justified for any of the above emotions. I logic and reason myself out of feelings. Honestly, it's really goddamned annoying. And it has fallout as well.
I am acutely intolerant of what I call "Self Indulgent Behavior".
What's this. you ask?
I can only explain it anecdotally:
I first noticed it at Summer Camp. There was this girl who (in all fairness was a totally stuck up douchebag) had been in a car wreck, like 3 years before this, and someone ran up to her and startled her by grabbing her shoulders and giving her a little shake. Well, you'd think they pushed her over and kicked her repeatedly based on the way she behaved. She was all "Oh my god, my neck! My neck! I was in a CAR ACCIDENT! YOU CAN'T TOUCH ME LIKE THAT!!" and had to be carried back to her cabin. Fucking ridiculous. Right? No. Not necessarily. But I had been taught all my life not to blow things out of proportion...not to be a bother...and in the most extreme sense, not to feel, OR show weakness. I resented her ability to get attention just by expressing fear or pain. That didn't work in my world. I got attention by being strong, by being capable, by being able to take care of myself. It was noble...martyr-y. And honestly? Fucking Exhausting. So, again, I resent people who get attention through their "negative feelings." But the kicker is, I FEEL BAD ABOUT FEELING THE WAY I DO ABOUT THESE PEOPLE!!!
Ok, my head just goddamned exploded.

Anyway, so, I suppose the lesson and goal here is to calm the hell down and know and accept that every feeling is normal, healthy, and ok, and that just because I feel sad (or any of the other aforementioned emotions) for a minute doesn't mean that the world is coming to a cataclysmic end.
Right?
Right.

Damn I'm Tired.

Well, last night was the first night in the studio with my band.
Officially, we're now called Five Foot Nine.
Because the lead singer and songwriter is 5'9".
No, I wasn't consulted. Eh, whatever. I don't care.

What I DO care about is that I think this album is going to be awesome. Last night was all about laying down "scratch vocals" for the studio musicians we have coming in this week and next, so they know the actual melodies of these songs.

Neal, our producer over at B-Side Studios, is incredibly nice. And really good at what he does. He was really doing a lot of directing, which is really nice for those of us who have never worked on a real record before. Although, I gotta say, I kept thinking about that scene in Boogie Nights with John C. Reilly in the studio helping Dirk record "You've Got the Touch"...and the poor producer putting up with those assholes. Were we that bad? Was I that bad? Jesus, I can hear myself through these goddamned headphones that are creating a vacuum in my ears and making them pop...do I really sound like that??? Dear God.
The good news is that this was just a practice run, and I have a copy of what we did to start really thinking about how I want my parts to sound for real.

The really cool part of the evening was when we got to talking about the philosophy of recording versus playing live. I'm of the opinion that a recording should be pretty close to what a band actually sounds like, and not some over-produced deception. We kind of went round and around as both our singer and Neal tried to convince me that it is ok to use studio performers if the actual band members aren't up to the task of making the album sound good. I completely disagreed because then, THAT'S NOT THE BAND is it? We were agreeing on a bunch of points but there was a disconnect until Neal said the following:
"Well, look, if you guys were signed with Warner Bros., and I was once upon a time with my band, and the studio was putting up all kinds of money for recording, and one of you wasn't playing the way you needed to play, I could say 'You're not ready', and send you away for a couple of weeks until you are.'" And the disconnect was fixed. Ideally, most bands rehearse just as hard fro recording as they do for a live show. We're not necessarily doing much rehearsing, so...we better just get it right away. I realize that there is in fact a huge disconnect in this entire story. However, I didn't get home til midnight last night, I've only had one cup of coffee, and my brain is ground up sushi right now.
So, as soon as this bitch is finished, we'll have a myspace page set up so's y'all can hear the greatness that is Five Foot Nine.

A Few Things...

1. I have decided that guys who do Tom Goes to the Mayor are two of the most bizarre minds in America. Proof: The lastest bumps on Cartoon Nework.

2. The new Juicy Fruit commercials featuring the girl's mouth chewing gum are pretty provocative. By provocative I mean pornographic bordering on pedophillic.

3. Family Guy made me laugh tonight with the follwing:

...The kind of day that makes you glad to be alive. I made fudge.

I'm as ok as your face!

...and little baby junior son of a bitch is screaming his head off.

4. My apartment is about 8 feet from the sun as it's about 90,000 degrees in here.

5. I need to do some research to see if I can get episodes of The Monkees on DVD.

6. I really enjoy sitting in on editing sessions.

7. It's 10:34.

8. I can't get my nano to stop playing the same damn songs over and over and over again.

Oh The Fireworks!

I'm such a sap.
Every year I try and get out to the fireworks with my mom and step-dad. Used to be that the whole family would make it out. But, well, the grandparents getting too old, divorce, custody issues, and service to the country have seriously dwindled our numbers. But, it was fun nonetheless. And I'm here to tell you. The fireworks in my hometown are amazing.
I cry every year.
The sync the damn things up to music and every time they play goddamned "What a Wonderful World" and coordinate all the colors, I'm a weeping mess. And don't even get me started on "I'm Proud to be an American". Seriously.

I dunno. I suppose American patriotism is something that really does hit me every once in a while. The Star Spangled Banner can get me too... that whole "gave proof through the night that our flag was still there" bit can reduce me to tears if I listen too carefully. It's weird. Maybe I was some Revolutionary War nurse or spy or similar delivering messages and coordinates across hostile enemy lines...infiltrating Tory social events...brushing shoulders with dignitaries, and the next day donning britches and slinking off on a stolen horse.

I think I've read too many romance novels.

Anyway, this weekend has been full of interesting revelations. I have a feeling there's a reason for all the things I've been lamenting about my life and it feels pretty good to know that my purpose might be coming clear.

Also, PMS is rearing its ugly head. Finally. So, who knows what interesting moods the week will bring.
Anyway, Happy 4th everybody.