chaos theory

Wedding: fabulous. Boy: yes. Scheme hatched: yes. Nieces and nephews precious at trick or treating: yes. Work tomorrow: unfortunately. Exhausted: yes. Able to uwind and relax: no. Why: boy. Mind: all over the place.

Oh bother, oh dear. Say little prayers to dispell the fears.

sleep to dream

I can't sleep. I've lain in the bed for the past 2 hours and my mind just races. I left all my trusty emergency sleeping pills at my apartment. I have to be up in 7 hours for the biggest wedding I've ever been in. I need sleep because without it I am a wreck and I need to go strong all day tomorrow. Please, send me quiet hushed voices, tranquil thoughts, and dreams, sweet dreams.

alone at last, alone again

I arrived in my hometown late last night after almost not coming. I've been exhausted this week. Probably partly due to a hectic schedule and the anxiety of this weekend's wedding. There are so many emotions wrapped up in my best friend getting married and I know that some of them are simply selfish.

PK and I began the day with manicures and pedicures, a fabulous beginning for a bride and her maid of honor. But, the salon put us on opposite sides of the room so we couldn't talk to each other. Afterwards we had about an hour of time together with no one bothering us. We ate lunch then began to chat when details got in the way and then the craziness began. Her mom came home and we began wrapping presents then I went home to shower then back to her house where suddenly 4 more people had arrived. I realized that it had begun, the pulling away. My PK was slipping through my fingers and there is nothing I can do but watch as a new family welcomes her in. And I am so happy for her and she is so blessed with this new family, they are wonderful people.

At the after party at the groom's parent's hotel I was scheduled to take the bride home. I was anticipating this, time for us to talk, to gossip, to dissect the day and all the people, but at the last minute plans changed and she rode home with someone else. Another bridesmaid was going to spend the night with me, but earlier in the night decided she better stay at the hotel with her parents because her mother was ill. I was looking forward to this sleepover, a little girl time before the big day. As we left the hotel and I got in my car alone, the pangs creeped up. There was no one for more to decompress with. There was no one for me to talk excitedly about the day or complain about the horrid wedding coordinator. There was no one. It's times like this that it hits home, the emptiness, the lonliness, and for a brief few days I'm jealous of what others have. A minster tonight prayed to thank God for making us creatures who need and want love. What about that, I wondered.

you can't buy this stuff

It's difficult to teach children about the past because the concept is abstract and strange. Witness the following:

"Can we call George Washington on the phone?" asks the teacher.
"No," replies the Kindergarten class.
"Why can't we call him?"
"Cause he's busy, he got stuff to do," calls out a child.


Sometimes I can't believe I get paid to witness the growth of children. It's precious. And when the above happened I almost fell off my chair laughing.

this is not a political blog and i don't want you opinion, part 2 and no i don't know anything about baseball, but here is my opinion and other things

Bush. OK, so we understand you think you are THE MAN who understands and defeats terrorism, but really does that mean we HAVE to re-elect you? Um, no. Why, you ask. Well, it goes like this. If you were re-elected then what's gonna happen in 4 years when we have to elect someone else anyway? Eventually your job will switch over and really no better time than the present. Not much is gonna change on the terrorism front in the next 4 years and I personally don't really think you are the one I want to continue with in "smoking them out." I'll choose someone else right now because now is better than later.

I just really want the Red Sox to win the world series. What is the world series and what does it take to win it? I have no idea. But, I know that the Red Sox have a great underdog story so on that fact alone I want them to win, even if they are a yankee team.

I made two orders for purses and a scarf on Sat. night. Wahoowa, gettin' paid to knit. It's like music to my hands.

Pumpkin Spice Latte at Starbucks, it's like heaven came down and settled in my coffer cup.

divine and sublime

On a whim and the spur of the moment I went to see Bette Midler in concert tonight. She was fabulous, showy and kitsch with just the right amount of class. She can go from a penis joke to a beautiful tribute to Rosemary Clooney without taking a breath and without the transition being forced. She is amazing and professional and true entertainer.

My favorite songs were ones when she just stood there, her and her microphone and the band behind her. She has a powerful voice and she sings the words as if she feels them. Concerts give you a lot of thinking time, music putting you a place where you wouldn’t have gone that day. I learn a lot about myself at concerts and music venues. With Bette, I learned that it will all be OK, that life is lived to be happy, to have friends, to give to others, and to do all that you do as if you were changing the world. Bette has a loud quietness about her that resonates as wisdom in her voice.

While my friend and I were among the 2 youngest people in attendance, I loved every minute of her show, the flashiness and the quiet moments. She is the perfect blend of wild and calm. And when she ended with “The Rose” I was immediately in my childhood singing to a worn out 45 in the basement of my house with my brother and neighborhood kids. With talent like hers, I wonder, where have all the entertainers gone?

head full of emptiness

The blank page. Every writer faces it, the emptiness, the whiteness, the little cursor blinking a sign of “Nan nana boo boo,” tongue hanging out, laughing at the poor schlub sitting opposite. The blank page usually excites me because I come to it with an idea or an image and fill it up quickly, but lately my head has been full of emptiness and the blank page mimics my brain inactivity.

In college I wrote poetry, a lot of it. Then, I was on deadline for classes and workshops. I had a poem due every other week for 5 years. I got good at forcing out the images and words. But with poetry, the blank page is not as frightening because a poem does not need a storyline, cohesion, or even a clear beginning, middle, and end. John Ashbury and John Cage have certainly shown that poetry can be a quagmire of words splashed about. But, I never liked these language poets. I liked Yeats, Shihab-Nye, Gluck, Collins, and cummings. I read and used images. My poems were simple and about the everyday. I never published anything and have only ever given 2 readings. The blank page didn’t scare me in poetry, the rejection did. I worked alongside some brilliant poets. I touched poetry celebrities. I never quite measured up and so I stopped writing poetry. I let the black page raise its voice.

I don’t want the blank page to win this time. I’m putting myself on a deadline and you need to keep me honest. I’ll post 4 times a week, about something or nothing. I just need to write it. I don’t care if you read, just bug me and make me do it.

And thanks.

phobias

There is one weekend left between now and my best friend’s wedding. I’ve been fine with it when it was in the distance, like a destination you just keep anticipating. But now, now that it is less than 2 weeks away I’m a bit freaked. My dress is about 12 sizes too big and has to be remade. I have to think of and write a speech to give at the reception. A few months ago this excited me. Now, I’m a little apprehensive. I should have written it months ago when I was into it, but I didn’t.

Marriage, it freaks me out, a lot. I’m totally psyched for my friends who are married or traveling down that road, but for me, I’m not so sure. I’ve been independent for so long, I wonder if there is a point of no return for single girls. Can we become so self sufficient that the thought of commitment just sounds time consuming? It just seems strange and foreign to me to have someone to be accountable to. It’s not that marriage zaps your freedom, but you can’t run to the store in the middle of the night for ice cream without telling someone where you’re going, you can’t plan a whole day of movie watching or finishing a book when the other person has plans, and you can’t go for margaritas on the spur of the moment with the girls. OK, so you can do these things. In fact, you could send someone to get the ice cream, and supporting someone makes you feel fabulous, and sharing things is even more fabulous. But for me, the fear envelops the possibilities of the fabulous life.

I’m happy for P and J. They make me smile when I think about them. I love them together and separately. They are wonderful people and will build a wonderful family together. I’m not jealous in anyway. I am sad, sad that I feel like I am being left behind, like I’m the last one picked for the team. But the thing is is that I don’t want to play the game anyway so this feeling of being left out is both false and unfair. It is unfair that I feel sad for something that I don’t think want and it’s unfair that I feel like my friends are leaving me when really they aren’t, but in some ways they are. Sometimes, I want to damn the coupling that is inevitable. Where have all the cowboys gone?

this is not a political blog and i don't want your opinion

I just feel sorry for Bush. I just feel like he is the underdog, the sad little puppy you can’t help but cheer for. I’m an underdog lover. I don’t know sports at all, but take me to any game and I’ll cheer for the losing team. That’s probably why I teach kids with special needs. Watching the debate drives me a bit crazy. I’ve learned to listen to it on NPR and then actually do something productive. I did that for a time and then turned on the TV. I just keep having the urge to pick Bush up and pet him. I keep catching myself cheering for him and then I have to tell myself that we aren’t really better off under his plans. And does he ever directly answer a question? I like him. I know he loves this country and tries real hard. I would just rather go to party with him than have him represent my country to world leaders. He’s just not a leader in my mind. He’s a bulldozer. And as a lover of underdogs, we don’t like bulldozers around here. Poor Bushy. Ba-bye now.

stripped

This weekend’s bachelorette party for my bestest friend had no strippers, but my throat has been stripped. As we went to bed on Sat. night (morning really) my throat was on fire. I thought it was from dehydration from drinking and the smoke in the bars and the yelling. I was a bit wrong. After 2 sleepless nights with a throat that felt like it was on fire, I went to the doctor and I have step throat. What the fuck? I have had the worst luck in the last 6 months in terms of illness. I’d say that karma’s a bitch, but I’m a really sweet person. I do good things for people all the time. I’m a good friend. So, what the fuck? Oh well, I slept all day yesterday after passing out and throwing up at the doctor’s office. Today, the antibiotics have kicked in and I’m able to sit up and knit. That’s the bright side. A free day of full on knitting. Wahoowa people, wahoowa.

let down

I’ve been so bad about blogging. I haven’t even been reading my favorite blogs lately. What have I been doing? Well, um, I don’t know. There are definitely a few new scarves and a hat and a purse that got knitted up, but other than that there has been a lot of TV watching and talking and hanging out with friends. Yet, all of a sudden this week got crazy busy. I’ve got another bacholerette party this weekend. I’m planning this one and it’s in Baltimore so it’s a bit hard planning a party that is 2 hours away. And then I’m helping my cousin write a piece about her wedding and then I have a project due for class tonight. I’m a slacker with the class stuff and haven’t even started and as I write this I have 1 hour ‘til I leave for class. I like to push it to the last minute. It just makes life more exciting. One day I will return to writing more life observation pieces. I just need to be inspired I think. And honestly, I don’t like writing this type of thing, where I tell you what my day’s been like because really, like you care.

shoe fly pie

I’m really bad at cleaning. Really bad. In fact, I tell my Dad that I just don’t like it. He tells me that I need to start. He’s right. I can’t remember the last time I dusted and my Dad left some cantaloupe peel in my sink and now there is mold on it. I haven’t cooked in a few days, or even used my kitchen so I totally forgot about the peel. Now it smells and I don’t want to touch it. The whole cleaning and touching dirty things is just not fun and therefore I don’t do it well. I’m a procrastinating cleaner. I let the clean laundry sit in the baskets on my bedroom floor until one day I just can’t take it anymore and then I fold and put things away. Now, some things I am anal about. Like my sheets. I obsessively change and wash my sheets on super hot water with bleach every week. Dust mites in your bed just creep me out. Sometimes I wish I was the perfect woman who kept and immaculate house, had a good job and cooked orgasmic food. It’s just not gonna happen. The “whole package” is just not what I’m made to be. I’m putting myself on a schedule that every night before bed I have to pick up or clean for 30 minutes. I figure that this should get it all done and save me from the massive cleanups on the weekends. I just wander that if I can barely keep a 2-bedroom apartment clean, how the hell will I ever tackle a whole house? I guess MYshoe fly pie with be truly homemade.