Crosseyed and Painless

I'm not lazy about this writing thing. I'm not... contrary to how it may appear given my erratic at best efforts. No, you see, I have a problem.

Look at the masthead of this page. What do you see? You see me talking about how we all have this persona we present for public viewing and how it's really all just a big farce. The original premise was that here, on these pages, I would rant the truth about life and love and how fucked-up things and people can be. Oh, damnit! I'm trying to not type "fuck" anymore.

Here's the problem. As of late it seems a number of people with nothing better to do with their time are spending it.... WHOA!

*sits back with mouth agape, fingers still poised over keyboard*

I just had a Mack truck epiphany!

OK. I was about to tell the tale about how I can't seem to do this because I'm tired of people dragging my life around like it should be appearing on the cover of one of the trashier supermarket tabloid magazines so the whole world can know about my complete shit year of horror and they're going to make sure no one forgets by judging and talking and acting like they're still in the junior high school... when it struck me in that way that only a truly unexpected truth can: I really, honestly, wholly, and completely do not give a fuck what anyone thinks about how I handle MY LIFE!

*smiles broadly*
*slides dollar into Fuck Jar*

Weird thing is, I thought I did care. I thought I didn't want to fan anyone's imaginary fire; type something "offensive" (what???); or generally call attention to myself in any way. BA! Balderdash to that, I say!

*cranks up Talking Heads*

I almost can't believe I got so far into my own head that I would fuck myself out of so much fantastic material. We all know that some of my best work is borne of my own public humiliation.

*whew*

Well, this feels great! Thanks for being here so I could have this revelation! I'm so fucking happy right now! And I just paid myself $6 for it! Four more and there's a bottle of Woop Woop wine in it for me.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Cheers!

Whimsy

I love whimsy.

That might come as a surprise to those of you who think I'm just an uptight control freak with abandonment issues. But it's true.

I think the Bedazzler was a fantastic idea; that chiffon should never go out of style; that there's room in everybody's life for crazy up-dos.

I think the best part of having a yard with trees is the autumn when I can rake up a big pile of leaves and jump into it like I'm still 7 years old.

I think that hats should be worn everyday by men and women.

And isn't it true that the best dates happen in unexpected, quiet places!

I love parades - of any type or magnitude; shivering in the snow eating an ice cream cone; wildly mismatched clothes; singing at the top of my lungs; and dancing alone in my living room letting the music rattle the windows.

I also happen to love doing things on the spur of the moment. Some of you might guffaw upon reading this, but that also happens to be true.

What I don't love is a surprise. I always seem to be wearing the wrong shoes...

09-09-09

Disclaimer: This may very well be the worst thing I've ever posted. But in the spirit of exposing myself, here it is nonetheless.

It’s the 9^th.

Not the 11^th. The 9^th.

Is it weird that 8 years later my stomach still drops at the sound of a military helicopter overhead? We don’t see many of those here, but it’s a gruesome reminder of that fateful day when it’s ALL we heard; the only thing breaking up the eerie silence.

I live 120 miles south of New York City; 108 miles north of Washington DC; and 199 miles east of Shanksville, Pennsylvania. I remember feeling surrounded by horror.

From the Ben Franklin Bridge, you could see the smoke rising from Lower Manhattan.
From my living room, you could hear the drone of military aircraft coming and going from Dover AFB and whatever that facility is just over the Delaware state line. This wasn’t happening on TV. This was happening in our yard.

Funny thing about the 11^th. I was on a plane on that day last year (read blog titled September 11, 2008) and never felt safer. Well, I say that… guess you’d have to read the blog to really know what I was feeling…

So today. Today I feel… like maybe I found my coffee limit; irritated because my data hasn’t shown up which is putting me behind; a bit like buying a chainsaw to take care of the newly downed tree out back; and more curious with every passing whirly-bird. I can’t help but wonder, why today? What’s going on in that secret government cave that it’s releasing low-flying aircraft again? Probably just routine exercises. Nonetheless, maybe I’ll take a drive up the street to the private airport.

Nostalgia

“Don’t have much to say,
Thought I’d call you up anyway.”
~ James Taylor

Nostalgia. It’s the classic example of “hurts so good.” I’ve been feeling rather nostalgic lately and I don’t know why. I do know I’ve been wallowing in it as if expecting some grand ROI for having done so...Yes, seems a little unbalanced.

Which of us is who we thought we’d be while playing “grown up” as a child? How many fulfilled the promise of that 6th grade essay question asking, “what do you want to be when you grow up?”

When we started college, with our big plans and bigger dreams, did we believe for a moment that today we’d be looking back at that time wondering, “how could I possibly have been so naïve? So idealistic?”

And finally, during which drunk did that person completely disappear only to be replaced by this one? Not that there’s anything innately wrong with this one, it’s just… different.

What if…
… we went left instead of right?
… we’d said yes, instead of no?
… we’d said no, instead of yes?
… we’d thought it through?
… or not thought about it at all?
“There are faces I remember
From the places in my past
I said all the dead head miles
And insincere smiles
Sometimes I can laugh and cry
And I can’t remember why
But I still love those
Good times gone by
Hold on to them close or let them go
Oh no, I don’t know.” ~ James Taylor
I made one very definitive decision very early in my life – and it changed every aspect of my future. It’s the ultimate, “what if…” So since I’m waist deep in feeling nostalgic, the question to ponder over our collective cocktail is, “would I make that same decision again if I could?”

And what if I didn’t?
We all know how I feel about The Universe and it’s methodology for ensuring you end up exactly where you’re supposed to be, when you’re supposed to be there. Would it have made a difference? I’m looking for a genie in a lamp here. Or better yet, a visionary in my vodka.

Here’s something to mull: If a neutron can be in two places at one time, and it stands to reason then that an atom can also be in two places at one time, and since we are comprised of atoms, is it possible that in a Parallel Universe I am who I thought I’d be when I was so very young? Are you?

I think I’m going to go put on my “H-town uniform”; wonder at my White Tag Levi’s; open some wine; play some old CDs; read some letters; flip through some photos; then paw around in my still half full college satchel. Maybe I can get this out of my system.

“Things may always stay the way they are,
Still my head looks for a change from time to time.
I don’t really need to look that far.
Turn on the music, strike up the music
Let the music change my mind.”
~ James Taylor