Extra TV Time!

Well, since I can’t go to work, I have a bit more time to catch up on all the crap I watch! And I know that everyone else is all frustrated by the writers’ strike, but a strike can’t stop me. I can always find shit to watch. Like:

American Gladiators. Yeah, I know. But, I’m the same girl who can watch Deal or No Deal and not feel an ounce of shame. I loved the original Gladiators. Watched them all when they first aired and then watched them again on ESPN Classic. It ranks right up there with the Great Outdoor Games for me. With the new show, I knew I was a goner on that first episode when the tiny asian chick busted her ass to come from behind and win. I could do without the Hulk, but I still love it.

Brothers & Sisters. I really do enjoy this one. I know that Sally Field is always the same neurotic mother, and Calista Flockhart can be annoying, but I really do think it’s one of the best shows on TV right now. I probably just have a crush on the gay brother.

Intervention. I just discovered this one. (I’m behind the curve, I know.) Holy crap. I’m sure it’s partly because of my own journey this year, but I must say I appreciate this show. And the people who agree to be part of it. It’s pretty raw and ugly, but nothing is better than the final screens of the show, when people have successfully moved forward.

Project Runway. Kevin was robbed. Ricky and his tatters should have been Auf’ed. And, as annoying as Christian is, I’m actually beginning to enjoy him. I’m sure they’ll keep him until the end, since he’s the new Santino/Wendy. I still need some wow, though.

Now, off to watch more crap…

A Night in the ER

Well, I got to spend a lovely evening in the ER of my local hospital. (It being the only hospital remaining in the inner city, you can imagine the many wonderful sights and smells.)

Strangely this is my second trip to the ER in the past few months, after having lived 13 years in this city without a single trip. Last time it was a really scary migraine with vision loss and this time it was searing pain in the gut. I figured my time had come for appendicitis, but that is why we go to doctors. I was wrong.

But, I’m home now. And although I will need to follow up with another doctor tomorrow, it appears that I will be fine.

But–twice in one year? I am getting old. I know I’m a bit of a hypochondriac, but still. Although, in my defense, I am pleased that I went both times. I have learned quite a bit about two conditions that I’ll likely deal with again.

I have a secret fear each time I have a pain anywhere between my neck and knee. I fear that it’s one of two things (neither of which I can deal with): my dad’s condition or damage from all of the years of drinking. To my complete relief, it wasn’t either of these two scenarios. Better yet, I took a look at my blood tests, and all of my liver function tests were back to normal. Almost six months without a drink! And my liver isn’t holding a grudge!

So, even though I’m in some pain right now…
Life is good.

Top 5 Books I’ve Read Recently

I highly recommend any of these…

1. The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho
2. A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier by Ishmael Beah
3. Thunderstruck by Erik Larson
4. The Last Season by Eric Blehm
5. The Wild Trees by Richard Preston

Quote…

Heard Coach Williams on Jim Rome’s show, and he said something that I can’t get out of my head: Only love the things that can love you back.

Well, damn. I’ve been going about this the wrong way. I thought it was “only love the things that don’t hit back.” Oops.

Yes, We Can

Obama
O8

I don’t care what anyone says.

End of an Era

There has been one constant in my life for the past 13 years. One relationship that has been an integral part of my life until just recently. It is a relationship that has taken many twists and turns, but one that has always been a priority for me.

Today, I think I’ve been forced to finally break my ties to him.

I’m not going to lie. This past year has been difficult. I’ve had to face the fact that he’s not the person I imagined him to be. And I’m not the person I imagined myself to be, either. I have held on to the image of the young man I met during my first week at college, not always recognizing the adult he has become.

Somehow, over the past year, I have begun to see things more clearly. I have been hurt, disrespected and belittled, and I have finally had enough. I have no desire to offer him friendship, compassion or respect, as he has consistently failed to show me the same courtesy.

I suppose these are the growing pains of life, but it is excrutiating nonetheless.

Early Mid-Life Crisis?

Good god. When I read over these things, I am sometimes annoyed by myself! How did I become so… blah? I promise I’m not like this all the time! Obviously, I use this space to say the things I can’t say anywhere else. But… Ugh. I suck.

And I think I must be having a very early mid-life crisis.

I can’t believe I’m doing this, but…

I found this recently. I’m not entirely sure of when I wrote it, but I’m positive I’d had a bit to drink beforehand. Maybe more than a bit, as the handwriting was illegible. (And, I may not have much in that department usually, but I’m no doctor!)

It’s always a weird thing to find something that you’ve written and don’t remember. Having to approach it like an anthropologist… What was this girl experiencing at that moment? What might her life have been like?

I used to climb inside of you
I used to know every movement you would make
I used to know what you were going to do before you did it

now I don’t recognize you when you are in the same room
sometimes
most of the time
I don’t hear you when you are speaking to me

I don’t know you anymore

I want so badly to know you
so badly I can’t breathe
I can’t have a conversation with someone without thinking of you
hearing you

I never told you
and probably you don’t know
that I can’t move without you telling me what to do
I still think of what you would do…all the many versions of you
you had so many faces and voices that I always have options
but I still listen to you

and I speak of you
often
there isn’t anyone that doesn’t know of my love for you

I know that you are there
I know that it is up to me
but for some reason I cannot find my way back to you
when you come around
I am immobilized
by love
in denial
out of fear

I only want to be back there
with you inside me and me in you
I want to stand up on a stage
with a microphone in hand
and declare to the world
my love for you
my desire to spend my life with you

but most of all
I want to curl up with you at night
when no one else can hear
and share my song with you

This is a continuation of the last post, I suppose. Because I apparently entitled this “Music.” No wonder I can’t keep a man.

Naked As We Came

Ah, a rainy morning with a good CD to listen to…

I’ve really been enjoying iron & wine’s “our endless numbered days.” The lead singer’s voice is so familiar, so comforting. And the rhythms of the record are perfectly suited to the new pace of my life.

I used to think that my emotions were a little too connected to the songs around me. I actually began to believe that the music was stronger than me. That it could take me to a place I couldn’t escape.

I realize that this sounds pretty nuts. Won’t be the first time…

I think that music has always been an outlet for me to say or feel things in a way I cannot otherwise. Growing up, I had numerous outlets for expression. Hell, I sang for an hour or two every day, even without adding the time in the shower and car. And I played music on a regular basis. Somehow, as I aged and moved here, I lost the ability (or most likely the confidence) to use my own voice. So I co-opted the voices and moods of the music around me.

I remember being at a party, listening to upbeat party music, having a good time, and then a somber or introspective song would be played. BOOM. I’m now somber and introspective. Even though 10 seconds earlier I was upbeat and having a good time. I’ve had moments when I knew that a particular emotion was appropriate, so I would seek out music that would elicit the proper emotion. How fucked up is that? How did I end up so far removed from true emotion?

For the past year or two, I haven’t listened to much music at all, which is really strange to me. Perhaps, I needed to break that addiction as well. Maybe I’ve needed to find my way back to my voice, my thoughts, my feelings.