I started reading this book tonight called Talking to Girls About Duran Duran: One Young Man's Quest for True Love and a Cooler Haircut. I think I'm the first person to check it out of the Ames library. I literally can't wait to do the review - I hope it stays as good as it has started out. It totally put me in the mood for Duran Duran, but all I had on my iPod was the Astronaut album, four tracks from Rio (including "Rio"), "Electric Barbarella" But it also contained what is perhaps my favorite of all Duran Duran songs - "Notorious" from 1986.
The video is, frustratingly, not embeddable (DAMN YOU SALAZAR!) Everybody knows it, but here's a refresher for those that have forgotten.
There are much better Duran Duran songs and certainly better known Duran Duran songs, but this is, as I said, still my favorite. Its position in the top spot for me stems more from association than any real merits of the song as it is from the time in my life when pop music really woke up in me. It was my freshman year of high school and that entire summer was spent down in the Sernett music department, flipping through vinyl albums and the limited supply of CDs that they had. I bought True Blue on vinyl that summer, along with many other purchases I later regretted. I listened to American Top 40 each week and wrote it down on a piece of looseleaf notebook paper as Casey Kasem made it from #40 to #1 each week. As summer turned to fall and I entered high school, I felt ready but also petrified. I felt that armed with my vast knowledge of pop music, I could not go wrong. Arriving at school in the fall, I realized that my choices were far from mainstream, despite the fact that they were on the radio all the time. Suddenly, my love for Madonna seemed awkward - the first of many such occurrences through my adolescence, even persisting into my early to mid 20s.
It seemed, even though I liked what Casey Kasem said was popular, that wasn't enough.
My biggest recollection of this song is seeing it on one of the many Friday night video shows in the fall of 1986. I had walked home from the Homecoming football game toting my tenor saxophone the mile from the stadium to my house. "Notorious" was playing and for some reason, it just clicked. It's such a vivid memory from that night and every time I hear the part at near the end when Simon LeBon lets out the "Yeaaaaaaah! That's why I've done it again!" it takes me back. It was then that I started to realize that, despite the fact that what liked wasn't the same as everyone else and the songs I did like were perceived as "girly," the songs made me feel good. They made me feel good and provided the necessary solace that I needed then and even now as an adult. It's the reason I keep going back to them and will continue to write about them.
I wish I can say that was a watershed moment where I stopped worrying about what other people thought. It wasn't. But it was still one of those moments.
The rest of the Notorious album is a bit hit and miss although "Skin Trade" is another standout. Astronaut is still my favorite studio album of theirs but "Notorious" will always be just a little bit special.
Showing posts with label personal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label personal. Show all posts
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Ridin' the storm out
We awoke at 3AM today after our bedside lamps turned themselves on. A power surge from a HUGE severe thunderstorm was the culprit. After I shook off my sleep, I looked out the window and I couldn't see a thing. The rain was coming down in torrents and the wind was whipping branches around in a most dangerous fashion. Apparently, the heat and humidity from yesterday had led to the predictable summer storm, only this one meant business.
Amazingly, Anna was sleeping the sleep of the dead through this whole thing. We debated about going to the basement, but in the end decided to split the difference and sat in my first floor office which is just around the corner from the basement stairs in case we had to make a run for it. As we all gathered in my office, Heidi asks me "Did you put the car in the garage?"
Motherfuck. No, I didn't. Because I had not wanted to go out in my boxers and move the car before bed, I had locked it and left it outside. Man I was going to regret it now. Worst-case scenarios floated through my mind. I couldn't see the car, so I was sure there was a branch on it. Where was I going to get 10 grand for a new car? And what if a branch fell on the house? Ultimately, I had to take a step back and, as I have tried to teach myself to do, watch the rollercoaster go without getting in the front car without wearing a seat belt.
Well, Heidi was not too pleased with the fact that I'd left the car out, but turned me down flat when I offered to go out in the tempest and move the car to the garage. What was done was done and we would just have to make the best of it.
As it turns out, my decision to leave the car in the driveway was oddly prescient, because through the lightning, we saw a sight that in the light of day was much clearer.
A branch from a neighbor's tree had snapped and fallen from their yard and across our driveway. By some miracle of divine intervention (or whatever), it did not hit our house or damage any of our property, but if I had put the car in the garage, it would have been there for a while. (Update: The branch is gone. Our neighbor chopped it to bits with his chain saw that our driveway was at least passable. He rocks.)
There is a lot of damage in town this morning, and there are still people without power. To have suffered no appreciable property damage and to still have power makes me count my blessings.
My friend Matt (who lives down in Ankeny) was not so lucky - he awoke to this sight from his bathroom window.
As he so wittily put it, it was either from the storm or the Kool-Aid Man paid a visit.
We'll be cleaning up today. I hear the chainsaws going next door and I really should go lend a hand. It's what Iowans do.
(and as the post title suggests, I bought REO Speedwagon's "Ridin' The Storm Out" during the worst of it. While Heidi and I tweeted. Welcome to the 21st century storm experience.)
Amazingly, Anna was sleeping the sleep of the dead through this whole thing. We debated about going to the basement, but in the end decided to split the difference and sat in my first floor office which is just around the corner from the basement stairs in case we had to make a run for it. As we all gathered in my office, Heidi asks me "Did you put the car in the garage?"
Motherfuck. No, I didn't. Because I had not wanted to go out in my boxers and move the car before bed, I had locked it and left it outside. Man I was going to regret it now. Worst-case scenarios floated through my mind. I couldn't see the car, so I was sure there was a branch on it. Where was I going to get 10 grand for a new car? And what if a branch fell on the house? Ultimately, I had to take a step back and, as I have tried to teach myself to do, watch the rollercoaster go without getting in the front car without wearing a seat belt.
Well, Heidi was not too pleased with the fact that I'd left the car out, but turned me down flat when I offered to go out in the tempest and move the car to the garage. What was done was done and we would just have to make the best of it.
As it turns out, my decision to leave the car in the driveway was oddly prescient, because through the lightning, we saw a sight that in the light of day was much clearer.
A branch from a neighbor's tree had snapped and fallen from their yard and across our driveway. By some miracle of divine intervention (or whatever), it did not hit our house or damage any of our property, but if I had put the car in the garage, it would have been there for a while. (Update: The branch is gone. Our neighbor chopped it to bits with his chain saw that our driveway was at least passable. He rocks.)
There is a lot of damage in town this morning, and there are still people without power. To have suffered no appreciable property damage and to still have power makes me count my blessings.
My friend Matt (who lives down in Ankeny) was not so lucky - he awoke to this sight from his bathroom window.
As he so wittily put it, it was either from the storm or the Kool-Aid Man paid a visit.We'll be cleaning up today. I hear the chainsaws going next door and I really should go lend a hand. It's what Iowans do.
(and as the post title suggests, I bought REO Speedwagon's "Ridin' The Storm Out" during the worst of it. While Heidi and I tweeted. Welcome to the 21st century storm experience.)
Friday, May 21, 2010
This sweater is old and faded
I was going through some old photos the other night - we were a total fail in making a baby book for Anna and as soon as we get done doing the scrapbook of our vacation from last year, we're going to try to do the same thing for Anna's infancy. Anyway, I found a bunch of pictures from Anna's first Christmas. This one blew my mind.
Every now and then you see a picture of yourself that just makes you think "Damn, when did I get old?" I look at that picture now and can't even remember having that much hair that was NOT gray. But from the some-things-never-change file, I still can dice green peppers like no one else.
But it wasn't even my relative youthfulness and the actual presence of color in my hair that got me - it was that sweater. Man, I LOVED that sweater. I remember that I got it at Kohl's - it was on a mannequin right at the front of the men's department. I had had my eye on it for a while but never felt like I could afford it. Then magically, one weekend, the sweaters were all on sale and I decided I wanted it. Sadly, they didn't have it in my size except for the one on the mannequin. So I had one of the employees take it off the mannequin. They probably were all "what the hell" but hey, they were making a sale.
I'm pretty sure I still have that sweater - I think it's at the bottom of the cedar chest. I don't really wear sweaters as much anymore and I know that it's not in the best of shape but I think I might have to figure out a way to resurrect it next winter.
But that doesn't mean I'm going to dye my hair. I like the gray just fine.
(post title inspiration here)
Every now and then you see a picture of yourself that just makes you think "Damn, when did I get old?" I look at that picture now and can't even remember having that much hair that was NOT gray. But from the some-things-never-change file, I still can dice green peppers like no one else.But it wasn't even my relative youthfulness and the actual presence of color in my hair that got me - it was that sweater. Man, I LOVED that sweater. I remember that I got it at Kohl's - it was on a mannequin right at the front of the men's department. I had had my eye on it for a while but never felt like I could afford it. Then magically, one weekend, the sweaters were all on sale and I decided I wanted it. Sadly, they didn't have it in my size except for the one on the mannequin. So I had one of the employees take it off the mannequin. They probably were all "what the hell" but hey, they were making a sale.
I'm pretty sure I still have that sweater - I think it's at the bottom of the cedar chest. I don't really wear sweaters as much anymore and I know that it's not in the best of shape but I think I might have to figure out a way to resurrect it next winter.
But that doesn't mean I'm going to dye my hair. I like the gray just fine.
(post title inspiration here)
Friday, November 06, 2009
Sleeping or not
So yesterday I finally decided that I had just about had enough of this not being able to fall asleep bit and made an appointment to see my doctor. I don't frequently go to the doctor - mostly just once a year for the physical that my insurance pays for and the random time or two when I am so sick that I can't get well without some form of antibiotic. But this not sleeping well thing, well, it finally pushed me over the edge.I pretty much live my life (as do many people) on a chronic sleep deficit. I go to bed too late, get up too early - sometimes by choice, sometimes out of necessity. The last month has been especially bad with me working a string of three overnight shifts and then a whole shitload of evenings, which resulted in one messed up sleep cycle. I don't mind working evenings - it's not a bad shift and there are about a third as many people there, but what I really need to do is sleep in till 9:30AM or so before I go in. That doesn't happen very often as those mornings are among the few mornings that I can actually take Anna to school. So what happens is I get up at 6:30. And then I wonder why I hit the wall at 9PM with 90 minutes left to work.
But then, without fail, I get home from that shift and I'm not tired. So I'm up till midnight or 1AM and then have to be at work at 8 the next day. It just sets me up. I should be tired, and I am, but I'm not. All of this leads to needing caffeine the first thing in the morning and liberal doses throughout the day, just to prop myself up enough to be able to function like a normal human being. Of course, all this caffeine leads to disruptions in the sleep cycle, which starts the whole dirty process all over again.
And then, you throw in my own personal wrinkle. I lay in bed at night trying to sleep, and the worry turns the volume up to 10. I think about things I might have left undone at work, things that might happen either tomorrow or in the near (or even distant) future, other people, other things so far out of my sphere of control it's not even funny...the list could literally go on forever. And it's not just that I think about it, it's that I pick it up and run with it as if I'm trying to make the winning touchdown. The other night I had to come back downstairs and was up till nearly 2AM when I had to be up at 5AM the next day. It wasn't pretty.
So because of all this, I went to the doctor. I was not looking for a quick fix - I know that there are many things that are buried beneath this, things that only I can unpack, things that no pill can fix. I got a lot of advice - things I already knew - like cutting out caffeine, exercising more regularly, melatonin, Benadryl, meditation, etc., etc., etc. And all those things I am willing to try. I complain constantly that I don't have time in my life for exercise which is bullshit because if I cut back my internet time even by an hour a day, I would have the time necessary. If it's important, you make time.
But the root of all of this is the worry. The nagging feeling that something is undone or that something horrible is in the offing. It relates back to my anticipation post. Heidi always tells me not to invite that kind of energy in which is her way of saying not to borrow trouble. She is, of course, right. It's not quite that simple. You can't rationalize with that part of your brain. It is chock full of emotions and all the types of reactions that go along with them, so calmly telling them to shut the fuck up doesn't really work all that well. But I know there is a way to short circuit the cycle and to stop it from feeding on itself.
I left the doctor's office with a bunch of literature and a prescription for Ativan. We'll see how it goes. I don't anticipate having to use much of the medication - I got a prescription for 20 of those last March at my physical and still have a fair number left. But to get over the hump, I'm not afraid of a little help. Better living through chemicals as my doctor friend always says.
So a few days of that to get myself back to normal and then after that, I'm crackin' skulls. (well, not really, but you get my meaning.)
(photo credit)
Sunday, August 02, 2009
Brand new day
(Uh...this is not a music blog. Bear that in mind as you wade into this post. If you're looking for something superficial and fun, abandon all hope, ye who enter here.)
If there's any one thing you can count on, it's that I am all talk and no action. I cannot count the number of times on this blog alone that I have declared that I am through with this, that or the other bad habit or self-defeating behavior, only to slip back into precisely that pattern after about 12 minutes. I almost wish I had a tag for it, so that I could go back and count them up.
So I suppose it seems a bit disingenuous to do it again, after having admitted that. Or perhaps admitting to myself that I continue to fail makes me more aware of that fact, thereby making it less likely to happen? I don't know, but whatever it is, I have to say right here and right now that I have had it up to here with the general trajectory of things right now. It isn't really anything specific (there are a few specifics, but I know better than to go into detail) but what I do know is that my brain cannot continue in its current mode. Something's gotta give, but what that something is I'm not really sure.
The one thing that I have noticed more than ever lately is that there really are two sides to me. That is nothing new - I've always known that and I'm a Gemini so I relish that fact probably more than I should. And when I say two sides, that doesn't necessarily mean two-faced (although I'm sure I've been accused of that as well). What it does mean is that while my exterior seems calm, cool and collected, way down deep I am so angry at things, so mad at this or that. My lifelong reaction to anger, like every emotion I have felt the need to suppress, has been to stuff it. Stuff it even further down than it already was. Stuff it until it is so compacted and hard and concrete that you can't even move it any longer. This worked very well for a very long time, but it is not working so well for me now. I find that the more I cram the anger down, the more it slips through the cracks and comes out anyway, usually in ways that are fucked up and at people and situations that were not the root cause of the anger. It also seems to come from nowhere and whip into a frenzy in less than two seconds, leaving the people in its wake confused and stunned by it. Most times, it doesn't come out as anger at all, but rather as a self-flagellating attitude that leads every time to me feeling defeated.
I don't feel like I am, by nature, a mean person, but I sure as hell can be. Most people can't even imagine me angry, which kind of makes me think of the Bill Bixby incarnation of the Hulk and his "Mr. McGee, don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry." And because people can't imagine me angry, it's almost as if my license to be angry has been revoked. But the truth is, so much about life makes me angry right now, and I'm not sure why. Everything really is quite good, by rights. Oh, sure, there's the omnipresent money shit that is going to haunt me till the day I die, but I'm working on finding the Zen in the bullshit that is that. Really, that by itself does not equate to the level anger that I feel frequently.
Much like Joan, I am probably mad at the dirt. But I heard a story yesterday that really hit me right in the stomach and will not let go. We met up with an old college friend of Heidi's, someone we had kind of lost touch with over the years, even though he's lived only 40 miles away for the last 5 years. Anyway, they got back in touch and we met in Des Moines yesterday and caught up. The story he told involved the tale of how he made a radical shift in his life. Having been nothing but an educator for however many years, he found himself at the end of a day with a bottle of 409 in one hand and paper towels in the other. He was wiping off a large table in his classroom and suddenly, he said to himself, "If you're doing this exact same thing in one year, I'm going to kill you." I don't know how much hyperbole played into that statement - perhaps a lot, perhaps none - but I can't stop thinking about that story. It was an example of someone grabbing life by the shirt collar (rather than letting life happen to you) and actually making a change. A year later, he was in a different job and much happier.
I can't help but wonder if I were to say something to that affect just how much change I could create in a year. If I really set my mind to it, could I be doing something in my life that makes me more satisfied and less mad at the dirt? The biggest difference between Heidi's friend and me is that I have two people that I am supporting, who are more or less dependent on my income. Doing a radical career change or something like that would be foolhardy, not to mention that being the least senior member of any job team right now would have me biting my nails and worrying about the security of that employment. But I don't think it has to be something that drastic, and ultimately, that is just a big old excuse to not do anything. There are many little things I could be doing, but I simply lack the follow-through.
The words seems so empty from overuse, but I can't do anything but try again. Despite all my previous efforts that have started and failed, I'm going to say that things are going to change starting right now. How they are going to change I can't tell, but it's going to happen.
A part of me doesn't want to publish this, but I think I have to. I have to be accountable for it. I can write it in a Word document and blow it up just as easy as follow through on it. At least here, there's a certain level of accountability. Granted, I could delete the post and deny its existence, and the number of people that read these words runs probably in the single digits, but saying it out loud and to the universe at large feels right.
So there.
(My opening statement should not be misinterpreted as saying that posts on music blogs are incapable of being serious. Quite the contrary - my favorite posts on those blogs frequently are.)
If there's any one thing you can count on, it's that I am all talk and no action. I cannot count the number of times on this blog alone that I have declared that I am through with this, that or the other bad habit or self-defeating behavior, only to slip back into precisely that pattern after about 12 minutes. I almost wish I had a tag for it, so that I could go back and count them up.
So I suppose it seems a bit disingenuous to do it again, after having admitted that. Or perhaps admitting to myself that I continue to fail makes me more aware of that fact, thereby making it less likely to happen? I don't know, but whatever it is, I have to say right here and right now that I have had it up to here with the general trajectory of things right now. It isn't really anything specific (there are a few specifics, but I know better than to go into detail) but what I do know is that my brain cannot continue in its current mode. Something's gotta give, but what that something is I'm not really sure.
The one thing that I have noticed more than ever lately is that there really are two sides to me. That is nothing new - I've always known that and I'm a Gemini so I relish that fact probably more than I should. And when I say two sides, that doesn't necessarily mean two-faced (although I'm sure I've been accused of that as well). What it does mean is that while my exterior seems calm, cool and collected, way down deep I am so angry at things, so mad at this or that. My lifelong reaction to anger, like every emotion I have felt the need to suppress, has been to stuff it. Stuff it even further down than it already was. Stuff it until it is so compacted and hard and concrete that you can't even move it any longer. This worked very well for a very long time, but it is not working so well for me now. I find that the more I cram the anger down, the more it slips through the cracks and comes out anyway, usually in ways that are fucked up and at people and situations that were not the root cause of the anger. It also seems to come from nowhere and whip into a frenzy in less than two seconds, leaving the people in its wake confused and stunned by it. Most times, it doesn't come out as anger at all, but rather as a self-flagellating attitude that leads every time to me feeling defeated.
I don't feel like I am, by nature, a mean person, but I sure as hell can be. Most people can't even imagine me angry, which kind of makes me think of the Bill Bixby incarnation of the Hulk and his "Mr. McGee, don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry." And because people can't imagine me angry, it's almost as if my license to be angry has been revoked. But the truth is, so much about life makes me angry right now, and I'm not sure why. Everything really is quite good, by rights. Oh, sure, there's the omnipresent money shit that is going to haunt me till the day I die, but I'm working on finding the Zen in the bullshit that is that. Really, that by itself does not equate to the level anger that I feel frequently.
Much like Joan, I am probably mad at the dirt. But I heard a story yesterday that really hit me right in the stomach and will not let go. We met up with an old college friend of Heidi's, someone we had kind of lost touch with over the years, even though he's lived only 40 miles away for the last 5 years. Anyway, they got back in touch and we met in Des Moines yesterday and caught up. The story he told involved the tale of how he made a radical shift in his life. Having been nothing but an educator for however many years, he found himself at the end of a day with a bottle of 409 in one hand and paper towels in the other. He was wiping off a large table in his classroom and suddenly, he said to himself, "If you're doing this exact same thing in one year, I'm going to kill you." I don't know how much hyperbole played into that statement - perhaps a lot, perhaps none - but I can't stop thinking about that story. It was an example of someone grabbing life by the shirt collar (rather than letting life happen to you) and actually making a change. A year later, he was in a different job and much happier.
I can't help but wonder if I were to say something to that affect just how much change I could create in a year. If I really set my mind to it, could I be doing something in my life that makes me more satisfied and less mad at the dirt? The biggest difference between Heidi's friend and me is that I have two people that I am supporting, who are more or less dependent on my income. Doing a radical career change or something like that would be foolhardy, not to mention that being the least senior member of any job team right now would have me biting my nails and worrying about the security of that employment. But I don't think it has to be something that drastic, and ultimately, that is just a big old excuse to not do anything. There are many little things I could be doing, but I simply lack the follow-through.
The words seems so empty from overuse, but I can't do anything but try again. Despite all my previous efforts that have started and failed, I'm going to say that things are going to change starting right now. How they are going to change I can't tell, but it's going to happen.
A part of me doesn't want to publish this, but I think I have to. I have to be accountable for it. I can write it in a Word document and blow it up just as easy as follow through on it. At least here, there's a certain level of accountability. Granted, I could delete the post and deny its existence, and the number of people that read these words runs probably in the single digits, but saying it out loud and to the universe at large feels right.
So there.
(My opening statement should not be misinterpreted as saying that posts on music blogs are incapable of being serious. Quite the contrary - my favorite posts on those blogs frequently are.)
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Redoubling
I just got off the phone with the student loan people. It was an odd mix of frustration and resignation.
Now before anyone jumps to any (inaccurate) conclusions, no, I'm not in danger of defaulting on them. I was just trying to explore my options, because the payment is exceptionally onerous and I was trying to figure out if I could get the interest rate lowered even though it's already pretty low and fixed to boot. I was also exploring payment options that included paying twice a month (like I do on my house) vs. the once a month payment plan that I currently have.
Well, they weren't having any of it. They weren't mean about it or anything, but they just really didn't have any options for me other than to take a different repayment plan which, while lowering my monthly payment, costs me more money in the long run. The loan interest rate is as low as it can go and any attempts to change to an every-other-week payment plan would cause me to sacrifice the interest rate I have because the payment is on autodebit. As it stands, when I calculate the yearly amount I actually cough up every month and figured the amount that's actually put on the principal, the percentage ends up being a measly 17.5%. Pathetic. And that's at a really good interest rate, not the 20+% charged by your average credit card these days.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not whining. I made my bed years ago, made choices and now have to pay for them. The trouble is that finances consume my thoughts - and not in the "oh, look how great I'm doing!" way. It contributes significantly to anxiety that I am fighting more often than not these days and creeps up on me at night while I'm trying to sleep which leads to being tired which decreases my ability to think rationally about it. It's easy to point fingers and place blame on this, that or the other thing but it really doesn't address what really needs to be addressed - how do we get rid of it? My natural inclination is to go from seeing that things are not ideal and then immediately jumping to panic and doomsday scenarios which doesn't help much either.
Some would say we need to Dave Ramsey our life but I think that is, oddly enough, too simple of an answer. I know of some people who have adopted his plans to tremendous success, but like many blanket statements, I am not sure that a wholesale application of his techniques would work for us. I just not sure that living as spartan as those kinds of plans require you to live for the length of time we'd have to do it is worth it. Yes, it's important to focus on debt reduction. Yes, it's important to not buy things if you can't pay for them (which was one of the stipulations I had for our California trip - paid for all but a couple hundred bucks of it.) But it's also important to freaking live while you're living and not wind up dead before you get a chance to live. Take away any chance to live and it's a surefire prescription for failure.
Like so many things in life, it's about balance. Looking back, I have not been so good about balance when it comes to things like that. But it's not as if I have stayed stagnant and am still making the same bad choices I did years ago. Even as recently as earlier this year, I had a plan to pay down a set amount on our credit card. And I did quite well until life happened. It's easy to feel frustrated by it, but the truth is that life will continue to happen and try to stymie me at every point. You can get mad about it or you can redouble your efforts.
No, it's not comfortable, but I do take a little bit of solace in the simple fact that I'm supporting three people on one income which is no small feat. But as of today, I'm redoubling my efforts rather than contine down the path of anxiety, even though the stupid student loan people couldn't give me a lower interest rate and I will probably be paying them till I have expired!
Now before anyone jumps to any (inaccurate) conclusions, no, I'm not in danger of defaulting on them. I was just trying to explore my options, because the payment is exceptionally onerous and I was trying to figure out if I could get the interest rate lowered even though it's already pretty low and fixed to boot. I was also exploring payment options that included paying twice a month (like I do on my house) vs. the once a month payment plan that I currently have.
Well, they weren't having any of it. They weren't mean about it or anything, but they just really didn't have any options for me other than to take a different repayment plan which, while lowering my monthly payment, costs me more money in the long run. The loan interest rate is as low as it can go and any attempts to change to an every-other-week payment plan would cause me to sacrifice the interest rate I have because the payment is on autodebit. As it stands, when I calculate the yearly amount I actually cough up every month and figured the amount that's actually put on the principal, the percentage ends up being a measly 17.5%. Pathetic. And that's at a really good interest rate, not the 20+% charged by your average credit card these days.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not whining. I made my bed years ago, made choices and now have to pay for them. The trouble is that finances consume my thoughts - and not in the "oh, look how great I'm doing!" way. It contributes significantly to anxiety that I am fighting more often than not these days and creeps up on me at night while I'm trying to sleep which leads to being tired which decreases my ability to think rationally about it. It's easy to point fingers and place blame on this, that or the other thing but it really doesn't address what really needs to be addressed - how do we get rid of it? My natural inclination is to go from seeing that things are not ideal and then immediately jumping to panic and doomsday scenarios which doesn't help much either.
Some would say we need to Dave Ramsey our life but I think that is, oddly enough, too simple of an answer. I know of some people who have adopted his plans to tremendous success, but like many blanket statements, I am not sure that a wholesale application of his techniques would work for us. I just not sure that living as spartan as those kinds of plans require you to live for the length of time we'd have to do it is worth it. Yes, it's important to focus on debt reduction. Yes, it's important to not buy things if you can't pay for them (which was one of the stipulations I had for our California trip - paid for all but a couple hundred bucks of it.) But it's also important to freaking live while you're living and not wind up dead before you get a chance to live. Take away any chance to live and it's a surefire prescription for failure.
Like so many things in life, it's about balance. Looking back, I have not been so good about balance when it comes to things like that. But it's not as if I have stayed stagnant and am still making the same bad choices I did years ago. Even as recently as earlier this year, I had a plan to pay down a set amount on our credit card. And I did quite well until life happened. It's easy to feel frustrated by it, but the truth is that life will continue to happen and try to stymie me at every point. You can get mad about it or you can redouble your efforts.
No, it's not comfortable, but I do take a little bit of solace in the simple fact that I'm supporting three people on one income which is no small feat. But as of today, I'm redoubling my efforts rather than contine down the path of anxiety, even though the stupid student loan people couldn't give me a lower interest rate and I will probably be paying them till I have expired!
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Aspirations in the clouds
Sleep is an elusive beast for me. I'm sleeping, yes, but for the last two nights I have not been able to get even anywhere close to sleep without help from pharmaceuticals, which is not the direction I like to be heading. It may sound like a backhanded compliment (and it probably is) but Ativan combined with the new Moby CD is really the only thing putting me to sleep at night these days.
It is a circle of being so tired I can't engage and then unable to sleep so that when I wake up the next morning, the cycle begins anew. I was telling Heidi last night that what I would love more than life itself would be to be able to be at home at night after work and not be so exhausted that I can't really be mentally present. But to do that, I have to find the root of my exhaustion, which is no small feat. But there is no alternative but to try.
OK, must get to work, but to balance out my general crank, let's watch Evan Cowden's remake of Howard Jones' "No One Is To Blame." First viewed at The Garden during Heidi's birthday celebration a couple years back, it was a video that prompted Heidi to utter the immortal words "If he is not gay, I will gladly eat my hat." I (naturally) had to go download it from iTunes the day after hearing it.
It is a circle of being so tired I can't engage and then unable to sleep so that when I wake up the next morning, the cycle begins anew. I was telling Heidi last night that what I would love more than life itself would be to be able to be at home at night after work and not be so exhausted that I can't really be mentally present. But to do that, I have to find the root of my exhaustion, which is no small feat. But there is no alternative but to try.
OK, must get to work, but to balance out my general crank, let's watch Evan Cowden's remake of Howard Jones' "No One Is To Blame." First viewed at The Garden during Heidi's birthday celebration a couple years back, it was a video that prompted Heidi to utter the immortal words "If he is not gay, I will gladly eat my hat." I (naturally) had to go download it from iTunes the day after hearing it.
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
Gently remove your tampon
I met up with my friend Matt last night to go to see I Love You, Man at the dollar theater. It had been quite a while since we had been to see a cheap movie there - I think the last one was Indiana Jones & the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. I Love You, Man was kind of one of those movies that I really wanted to go see, but just couldn't justify paying 8 bucks for when it was playing in the first-run theater.Many of my friends saw this movie, and it was universally declared that this movie would be right up my alley. Jeff went so far as to say, "Dan, you need to see this movie. It is a movie that was made for guys like us." He was, along with the rest of the people that recommended the movie to me, correct. For those that don't know, the movie's basic plot is probably appropriate for a Tweet, because I'm not sure it would take 140 characters to do it. Paul Rudd is about to get married, finds he has no male friends from which to choose a best man. He tries to find friends, meets Jason Segel, and the unlikely duo become fast friends. Typical romantic comedy insanity ensues.
This movie is very much in the vein of Rudd's previous comedy, Role Models - complete with bawdy jokes, funny physical gags and the kind of irreverent humor that straddles the line between funny and offensive. Unlike in Role Models which I found balanced that line less adeptly, I found pretty much all the humor in I Love You, Man to fall on the funny side. I also found it odd that for basically being a "buddy movie", the relationship between Rudd and Segel hit all the typical romantic comedy plot points like clockwork. This is not a bad thing - it has been years since Hollywood cranked out a really good romantic comedy. What was interesting was how this formula was applied to the platonic relationship between the two male leads. The semi-awkward dance of the first "dates", the giddiness of the new relationship, the faux breakup and eventual reconciliation - all these turning points were present to drive the narrative along.
Not surprisingly, I found this movie not only funny, but also kind of sweet. Rudd's Peter Klaven is a caricature for certain - I don't think anyone is that socially inept at the male code - but I found his earnestness in trying to find a friend charming and a little bit cute. He and Sydney (no less a caricature than Peter) are a bit of an odd couple, but Sydney brute machoness serves as a good foil to Peter's macho-not-so-much. There were times in the movie where the chemistry between the two of them didn't really work for me. I couldn't believe that someone like Peter would want to hang out with someone like Sydney. I think that had Sydney been painted a little less broadly it would have been a little more believable. I say that, but truthfully, as a man, I will say that you never know with whom you are going to bond and that sometimes its the differences that cement the friendship rather than the similarities.
Watching the movie, I obviously connected much more with Peter than I did Sydney, even though there were things that Peter did that were truly cringeworthy. I think I recognized a bit more than a sliver of myself in him, as the not-as-masculine guy who has always had "girl friends" as opposed to the kind of buddyship portrayed in this movie. I am always a bit jealous of those types of friendships, but looking back on my own life, it's not like I had any trouble filling up my wedding party nor do I lack for people in my life right now. Additionally, my own experience tells me that the depiction of the relationship between Peter & Sydney was also unrealistic on a few levels, not the least of which was the speed at which they became such close friends. The thing I've learned about those kinds of friendships is that they are simultaneously born out of an organic reaction that you can't force and then cultivated by hard work. You can't force it, you don't dare force it, and sometimes, it takes years. Granted, that was not going to happen in a 90 minute comedy, but still.
I have written on this blog before and will continue to maintain to my last breath that while wives and girlfriends are undeniably important in our path as men, we cannot and should not underestimate what we have to offer to each other. We need each other, for sometimes we just need to be guys. No matter how hard women work to do that, they are not a substitute and are limited by their experience as women in how much they can relate to our experiences as men. I feel like I Love You, Man, while undeniably a farce, showed the truth that our friendships with each other can be as intense and as necessary as our marriages.
May we all be as fortunate as Peter and Sydney.
The previews at the movie last night have led Matt and me to three more movies to see at the dollar theater: Star Trek, X-Men Origins: Wolverine, and Friday the 13th. Check, check, and check.
Monday, June 01, 2009
Neurons firing
Nabbed from Boy Culture:
I usually am hard pressed to watch YouTube videos longer than 90 seconds, but this one had me for the entire 6 minutes. Watching this reminds me of why I have been a Madonna fan for 25 years - just look at the body of work she has behind her. Each image fires off neurons in different sections of my brain all at once. Images from the "La Isla Bonita video" set my 14 year-old brain to memories of standing in P.E. talking to Jeff about the video (and amazed I knew someone else who shared my obsession). Flickering shots of from Sex remind my 20 year-old brain listening to Erotica in solitude. Even Madonna eras I'm not terribly fond of have something positive to give - the "4 Minutes" video will forever be linked to my first time in New York City.
I have taken my fair share of shit over the years for being a Madonna fan, but it is not an experience I would trade for anything in the world. As Matt Rettenmund said in his post - she *is* me, well, sort of. But these images are something that all Madonna fans share. I'm not sure where she's going these days (hell, I'm not sure that even she knows where she's going) but the fans really do share in this body of work.
I usually am hard pressed to watch YouTube videos longer than 90 seconds, but this one had me for the entire 6 minutes. Watching this reminds me of why I have been a Madonna fan for 25 years - just look at the body of work she has behind her. Each image fires off neurons in different sections of my brain all at once. Images from the "La Isla Bonita video" set my 14 year-old brain to memories of standing in P.E. talking to Jeff about the video (and amazed I knew someone else who shared my obsession). Flickering shots of from Sex remind my 20 year-old brain listening to Erotica in solitude. Even Madonna eras I'm not terribly fond of have something positive to give - the "4 Minutes" video will forever be linked to my first time in New York City.
I have taken my fair share of shit over the years for being a Madonna fan, but it is not an experience I would trade for anything in the world. As Matt Rettenmund said in his post - she *is* me, well, sort of. But these images are something that all Madonna fans share. I'm not sure where she's going these days (hell, I'm not sure that even she knows where she's going) but the fans really do share in this body of work.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Cool mom
I'm here to tell you that Mother's Day lacks the really REALLY good line that I use year after year for Father's Day. After all, Nathan Grantham doesn't say "It's Mother's Day, Bedelia!!" Mother's Day does, however, have its requisite horror movie, which I have never seen but from the looks of it, appears to be a semi-retread of Texas Chainsaw Massacre in that it has a redneck family and unsuspecting teenagers stumbling onto their property. And how can one forget what is perhaps the most dysfunctional mother-son relationship of all in Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho?
But this is post is not about all that. Yes, it is Mother's Day. But I don't want to talk about blood and guts and gore and crossdressing. I'm here to pay tribute to my own mom. A lot of my friends accuse me of having the coolest parents ever. And, well, it's all true. Look, she was even cool back in 1972 when posing for one of our first pictures together! (and looking at that picture, I am reminded that it is the Cullinan side to blame for the curly hair!)
No one ever thinks that their parents are cool when they're growing up. I think that if you don't go through a certain amount of rebellion against those who raised you, you've missed some essential part of development. Mine was certainly more subdued than others, but it still happened. I look back on my teenage years and sometimes I just shudder! But Mom was always there. Even at those times that I was pretty sure I didn't want her there, she was patient and helpful without being overly involved. That's one of the things I realize now, with the benefit of 20 years of hindsight. My mom and dad were always there for us, but they also had a healthy respect for boundaries.
One of my most vivid memories from those days was in 1988 and I had been invited to the prom by not one but two girls. I was a sophomore and both of the girls were juniors. While flattering, the bottom line was that, even at age 15, I really hadn't dated properly and, thanks to a self-esteem that was in the gutter and most likely undiagnosed depression (it was not the buzzword then that it is now), I didn't want to go with either or them. I was going to just ignore both and hope the problem went away, a pattern I still lapse into on my worst days. I was up in my room and my mom came up and gently but firmly that the situation was not going to go away and that other people and their feelings were involved. She gave me the courage that I needed to pull myself up out of my own mire and (yes) self-pity. My brain comes back to that conversation more than you might imagine. I wonder if Mom even remembers it.
Those kinds of life lessons carry forward, even now, at nearly 37 years of age. And my mom continues to be supportive in ways both big and small. They help us so much. They provide free child care frequently. They are going to babysit bad boy Blair while we are on vacation. But perhaps the best recent example was when things got really bad earlier this year and I needed to make a request of them, I knew that even though I was embarrassed to do so, that they would be there for us. And they were.
So here's to you Mom. I love you very much and, well, I guess I'll see you in a few hours!
But this is post is not about all that. Yes, it is Mother's Day. But I don't want to talk about blood and guts and gore and crossdressing. I'm here to pay tribute to my own mom. A lot of my friends accuse me of having the coolest parents ever. And, well, it's all true. Look, she was even cool back in 1972 when posing for one of our first pictures together! (and looking at that picture, I am reminded that it is the Cullinan side to blame for the curly hair!)No one ever thinks that their parents are cool when they're growing up. I think that if you don't go through a certain amount of rebellion against those who raised you, you've missed some essential part of development. Mine was certainly more subdued than others, but it still happened. I look back on my teenage years and sometimes I just shudder! But Mom was always there. Even at those times that I was pretty sure I didn't want her there, she was patient and helpful without being overly involved. That's one of the things I realize now, with the benefit of 20 years of hindsight. My mom and dad were always there for us, but they also had a healthy respect for boundaries.
One of my most vivid memories from those days was in 1988 and I had been invited to the prom by not one but two girls. I was a sophomore and both of the girls were juniors. While flattering, the bottom line was that, even at age 15, I really hadn't dated properly and, thanks to a self-esteem that was in the gutter and most likely undiagnosed depression (it was not the buzzword then that it is now), I didn't want to go with either or them. I was going to just ignore both and hope the problem went away, a pattern I still lapse into on my worst days. I was up in my room and my mom came up and gently but firmly that the situation was not going to go away and that other people and their feelings were involved. She gave me the courage that I needed to pull myself up out of my own mire and (yes) self-pity. My brain comes back to that conversation more than you might imagine. I wonder if Mom even remembers it.
Those kinds of life lessons carry forward, even now, at nearly 37 years of age. And my mom continues to be supportive in ways both big and small. They help us so much. They provide free child care frequently. They are going to babysit bad boy Blair while we are on vacation. But perhaps the best recent example was when things got really bad earlier this year and I needed to make a request of them, I knew that even though I was embarrassed to do so, that they would be there for us. And they were.
So here's to you Mom. I love you very much and, well, I guess I'll see you in a few hours!
Friday, May 01, 2009
Just dance
I just got back from what is probably the second best time I have ever had dancing - the best time being a tie between my wedding (which involved me drinking an entire bottle of wine and famously DJing my own wedding dance) and our trip to the Garden for Heidi's birthday (one of my most favorite posts on this blog if I may be so bold and conceited).
Tonight was the Daddy-Daughter dance at Anna's school. Attending it required some creative scheduling at work, but it was totally worth it. I knew that it would be, but I had no idea that I would have as much fun as we did. Put on by the Meeker PTO which is trying to raise money for new playground equipment, it was well organized, well attended and a total blast, even if it did take its name from that gag-o-rific "Butterfly Kisses" song. Held in the gym at Anna's elementary school, it brought back memories of school dances I attended 20 years ago. The girls were dressed to the nines and most of the dads were all dressed pretty spiffily too. I wore a tie for the first time in forever as well as my cool New York suit coat.
We got there just after it started, and already the gym was full of dads and their daughters. At first, I was a little self conscious, as I normally am when we go anywhere to dance. I'm one of those guys that secretly (or not so secretly) just loves to dance, but has a hard time breaking through my initial layer of inhibitions. Usually, there's a little bit of alcohol involved in getting past them, but that was obviously not an option tonight. Ultimately, I decided it was just like the beach or the pool. I always think I am going to be the worst looking, most out-of-shape person there. I am always wrong, and really, no one is looking so you might as well just have fun.
And have fun we did. We danced to all sorts of stuff. They mixed it up quite nicely so that there was something for the kids ("High School Musical" was pretty prominent) as well as the oldsters like me, with some Cyndi Lauper and other 80s night staples thrown in for good measure. They played some surprises - Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline" and even a bit of Lady Gaga which has never sounded as good as it did tonight. It sounded so good, I actually downloaded "Just Dance" tonight after months and months of resisting it. Perhaps the oddest song played all night was "Rock and Roll All Night" by Kiss, which Anna knows from Guitar Hero. When I hear it, all I can think of is Role Models - rock and roll all night and part of every day.
Anna was hilarious tonight. She declared to me as we walked in the door "I put on extra deodorant, just in case." It was a good thing because the gym was kind of stinky by the end of the night. She was never quite able to decide if she wanted to be with me or with her friends. When we were dancing, it was hard to convince her that every song was not a chance for her to do a solo interpretive dance. But who am I to discourage? I just enjoyed being with her.
One of the most interesting aspects of the night was the wide array of fathers at the dance. We were all along the spectrum when it came to comfort level with being dancing fools. While I was probably somewhere in the high 70s/low 80s on the dancing fool scale (100 being the highest), there were some guys that cut the rug even more than me. Many were very stoic and did not really dance, which kind of begged the question why they were there at all. In the end, it was all about Anna, who just had a fantastic time, even though her shoes hurt her feet and her necklace, bracelet and scarf were in my pocket within the first hour.
When "Butterfly Kisses" was inevitably played at about the half way point, we had been having such a good time that I barely noticed. We danced around the floor a little bit, but what struck me is how little of a "Butterfly Kisses" relationship Anna and I have. Oh, sure we do in some respects - much of that is just what being the father to a daughter is. But our relationship is so much more than just the sappy stuff. It's about listening to the Guitar Hero playlist on my iPod (even though I was caught off guard for the "Dad, what does 'talk dirty to me' mean?" question). It is about watching Meerkat Manor on the Netflix box and playing the Titanic song as a piano duet. In fact, during the song, while most of the dads were doing the slow dance with their daughters, mine was off being the free spirit that she is, occasionally bouncing back to me to do a spin or a twirl. Hopefully, the way that I am parenting her is fostering that free spirit rather than squashing it.
For all the greatness that was the dance, I will say they totally blew the last song. It was Etta James' "At Last." If it had been me in charge of the music, it totally would have been Donna Summer's "Last Dance." Not to mention there would have been at least one Madonna song. There are some that are appropriate for kids! It is not a dance without either "Vogue" or "Into The Groove."
What a great night. On the way home, we couldn't stop talking about how much fun we had. It makes the coming weekend of work just that much more palatable. Because no matter what tomorrow deals me, tonight I am happy.
Here's some pictures of us before we left for the dance.
Tonight was the Daddy-Daughter dance at Anna's school. Attending it required some creative scheduling at work, but it was totally worth it. I knew that it would be, but I had no idea that I would have as much fun as we did. Put on by the Meeker PTO which is trying to raise money for new playground equipment, it was well organized, well attended and a total blast, even if it did take its name from that gag-o-rific "Butterfly Kisses" song. Held in the gym at Anna's elementary school, it brought back memories of school dances I attended 20 years ago. The girls were dressed to the nines and most of the dads were all dressed pretty spiffily too. I wore a tie for the first time in forever as well as my cool New York suit coat.
We got there just after it started, and already the gym was full of dads and their daughters. At first, I was a little self conscious, as I normally am when we go anywhere to dance. I'm one of those guys that secretly (or not so secretly) just loves to dance, but has a hard time breaking through my initial layer of inhibitions. Usually, there's a little bit of alcohol involved in getting past them, but that was obviously not an option tonight. Ultimately, I decided it was just like the beach or the pool. I always think I am going to be the worst looking, most out-of-shape person there. I am always wrong, and really, no one is looking so you might as well just have fun.
And have fun we did. We danced to all sorts of stuff. They mixed it up quite nicely so that there was something for the kids ("High School Musical" was pretty prominent) as well as the oldsters like me, with some Cyndi Lauper and other 80s night staples thrown in for good measure. They played some surprises - Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline" and even a bit of Lady Gaga which has never sounded as good as it did tonight. It sounded so good, I actually downloaded "Just Dance" tonight after months and months of resisting it. Perhaps the oddest song played all night was "Rock and Roll All Night" by Kiss, which Anna knows from Guitar Hero. When I hear it, all I can think of is Role Models - rock and roll all night and part of every day.
Anna was hilarious tonight. She declared to me as we walked in the door "I put on extra deodorant, just in case." It was a good thing because the gym was kind of stinky by the end of the night. She was never quite able to decide if she wanted to be with me or with her friends. When we were dancing, it was hard to convince her that every song was not a chance for her to do a solo interpretive dance. But who am I to discourage? I just enjoyed being with her.
One of the most interesting aspects of the night was the wide array of fathers at the dance. We were all along the spectrum when it came to comfort level with being dancing fools. While I was probably somewhere in the high 70s/low 80s on the dancing fool scale (100 being the highest), there were some guys that cut the rug even more than me. Many were very stoic and did not really dance, which kind of begged the question why they were there at all. In the end, it was all about Anna, who just had a fantastic time, even though her shoes hurt her feet and her necklace, bracelet and scarf were in my pocket within the first hour.
When "Butterfly Kisses" was inevitably played at about the half way point, we had been having such a good time that I barely noticed. We danced around the floor a little bit, but what struck me is how little of a "Butterfly Kisses" relationship Anna and I have. Oh, sure we do in some respects - much of that is just what being the father to a daughter is. But our relationship is so much more than just the sappy stuff. It's about listening to the Guitar Hero playlist on my iPod (even though I was caught off guard for the "Dad, what does 'talk dirty to me' mean?" question). It is about watching Meerkat Manor on the Netflix box and playing the Titanic song as a piano duet. In fact, during the song, while most of the dads were doing the slow dance with their daughters, mine was off being the free spirit that she is, occasionally bouncing back to me to do a spin or a twirl. Hopefully, the way that I am parenting her is fostering that free spirit rather than squashing it.
For all the greatness that was the dance, I will say they totally blew the last song. It was Etta James' "At Last." If it had been me in charge of the music, it totally would have been Donna Summer's "Last Dance." Not to mention there would have been at least one Madonna song. There are some that are appropriate for kids! It is not a dance without either "Vogue" or "Into The Groove."
What a great night. On the way home, we couldn't stop talking about how much fun we had. It makes the coming weekend of work just that much more palatable. Because no matter what tomorrow deals me, tonight I am happy.
Here's some pictures of us before we left for the dance.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Junk the morgue
In the last hour, Heidi and I have successfully brought up a lot of the crap that was in my basement office and placed it on the bed in my back bedroom office (which I am lovingly referring to as "my dorm room" because it really does feel that way!) Right now, my mission which I must accept is to go through it once and for all and decide what gets kept and what gets junked. Here's something to give you an idea of the enormity of my task.
A lot of it is junk that I have been carting around for nearly two decades - and the oldest stuff isn't even up here yet. A box full of MAD magazines and other sundry stuff remains in storage in the nether regions of the basement. My goal is to free myself of the shit that I am holding on to for no good reason or for reasons other people have put on me. I'm going to spend the next half hour doing that and then I'm going to get ready to go the meditation group at UUFA again. We'll see how well I do. Once the whole dorm room is done, I'll post pictures.
But at the rate I'm going, who knows when that will be.
A lot of it is junk that I have been carting around for nearly two decades - and the oldest stuff isn't even up here yet. A box full of MAD magazines and other sundry stuff remains in storage in the nether regions of the basement. My goal is to free myself of the shit that I am holding on to for no good reason or for reasons other people have put on me. I'm going to spend the next half hour doing that and then I'm going to get ready to go the meditation group at UUFA again. We'll see how well I do. Once the whole dorm room is done, I'll post pictures.But at the rate I'm going, who knows when that will be.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
It is the walk
All day today I have been slowly moving my office from the basement to the spare bedroom in the back of the house. The reasons for this are manifold. The primary impetus is to remove myself (and my electronics) from the flood zone, but other reasons include the fact that it is colder than hell down there in the wintertime as well as the fact that I am so far away from everyone else in the basement I may as well be living in my own house. I think Heidi has gotten tired of yelling down at me and I can understand that.
Because things like this can never just happen around here, we naturally had to do some quick sanding and sealing of the hardwood floor in the spare bedroom. To be honest, it really needed it. No one had done a thing with it before we bought the house besides damage it. There were paint stains and water stains all over it. No longer. Heidi sanded it. I sealed it. It is beautiful.
So like I said, I have moved my desk and computer upstairs and I think I'm gonna like it. It's odd to have to be conscious of how loud my music is because Heidi is watching Battlestar Galactica in the next room. I don't have half my shit up here yet, but I think this is as good a time as any to thin some of the stuff that I have been accruing. I started with T-shirts that I wear to bed. Some of those T-shirts I have been carrying around for over a decade. I finally threw away the Iowa City Public Library: A Century of Service T-shirt from 1997! Also amongst the cast-offs were my Dean For America shirt, a shirt from my dorm floor in college and a "heavy metal" t-shirt consisting of that section of the periodic table. Yeah, geek. We knew that already.
I also went to a Mindfulness and Meditation session at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship tonight. I have been meaning to go to those for months now (they have them every Sunday night) and I finally went tonight. It was kind of weird, I will admit, mostly because even though I try to meditate on my own, frankly I kind of suck at it. Tonight was no different. No sooner did I sit down and try to calm my mind than EVERY PART OF MY BODY started itching. Then my leg started cramping. Then I couldn't get my back to straighten up. Once I finally got situated, I found myself having to get up and do walking meditation - something I had read about but never done. All in all, it was a good experience. One thing stuck with me though. Right before we started walking, they read from Thich Naht Hahn. The passage was "there is no happiness walk, happiness is the walk." How easy it is to forget that. So frequently, we figure that this thing or that thing will make us happy, only to be disappointed. I shall endeavor to remember Thich Naht Hahn's words during the upcoming week.
In the meantime, here's an actual artist's depiction of Heidi and me moving furniture in my new office today.
I gotta quit smoking that pipe, I tell ya. It's going to be the death of me.
I told Heidi I was getting rid of the Iowa City Public Library T-shirt and she talked me out of it! It's back in my drawer.
Because things like this can never just happen around here, we naturally had to do some quick sanding and sealing of the hardwood floor in the spare bedroom. To be honest, it really needed it. No one had done a thing with it before we bought the house besides damage it. There were paint stains and water stains all over it. No longer. Heidi sanded it. I sealed it. It is beautiful.
So like I said, I have moved my desk and computer upstairs and I think I'm gonna like it. It's odd to have to be conscious of how loud my music is because Heidi is watching Battlestar Galactica in the next room. I don't have half my shit up here yet, but I think this is as good a time as any to thin some of the stuff that I have been accruing. I started with T-shirts that I wear to bed. Some of those T-shirts I have been carrying around for over a decade. I finally threw away the Iowa City Public Library: A Century of Service T-shirt from 1997! Also amongst the cast-offs were my Dean For America shirt, a shirt from my dorm floor in college and a "heavy metal" t-shirt consisting of that section of the periodic table. Yeah, geek. We knew that already.
I also went to a Mindfulness and Meditation session at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship tonight. I have been meaning to go to those for months now (they have them every Sunday night) and I finally went tonight. It was kind of weird, I will admit, mostly because even though I try to meditate on my own, frankly I kind of suck at it. Tonight was no different. No sooner did I sit down and try to calm my mind than EVERY PART OF MY BODY started itching. Then my leg started cramping. Then I couldn't get my back to straighten up. Once I finally got situated, I found myself having to get up and do walking meditation - something I had read about but never done. All in all, it was a good experience. One thing stuck with me though. Right before we started walking, they read from Thich Naht Hahn. The passage was "there is no happiness walk, happiness is the walk." How easy it is to forget that. So frequently, we figure that this thing or that thing will make us happy, only to be disappointed. I shall endeavor to remember Thich Naht Hahn's words during the upcoming week.
In the meantime, here's an actual artist's depiction of Heidi and me moving furniture in my new office today.
I gotta quit smoking that pipe, I tell ya. It's going to be the death of me.
I told Heidi I was getting rid of the Iowa City Public Library T-shirt and she talked me out of it! It's back in my drawer.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Gutter adventures
We cleaned the gutters out on the house today. It has been long overdue as I don't think it was ever adequately done (read: at all) last fall after the leaves fell. It is a job that I truly despise, for it requires getting on a ladder and sticking my hands in muddy composty crap that is truly disgusting. However, we knew that today it was going to rain at some point and our next shot at it won't be until Heidi gets back from California, so we cleaned them.
It was disgusting. With a capital D.
And at the end of it, I was disgusting. I don't know that I have ever been so sweaty in my entire lifetime. When I went in to take my shower, taking my shirt off was like peeling an exceptionally stinky grape, that's how stuck to me the shirt was (again, sticking to me like clingwrap.)
Here I am, looking exceptionally pleased to be cleaning gutters.
Cleaning the gutters AND bringing sexy back, all at once. I know, I'm such a multitalented individual.
And if the photo is not enough, here's me going on and on about having to the job, with some prompting from Heidi. (it's kinda dark and small because Heidi held the camera the wrong way.)
All in all though, a good Sunday. Believe it or not, getting that job done was completely satisfying.
It was disgusting. With a capital D.
And at the end of it, I was disgusting. I don't know that I have ever been so sweaty in my entire lifetime. When I went in to take my shower, taking my shirt off was like peeling an exceptionally stinky grape, that's how stuck to me the shirt was (again, sticking to me like clingwrap.)
Here I am, looking exceptionally pleased to be cleaning gutters.
Cleaning the gutters AND bringing sexy back, all at once. I know, I'm such a multitalented individual.And if the photo is not enough, here's me going on and on about having to the job, with some prompting from Heidi. (it's kinda dark and small because Heidi held the camera the wrong way.)
All in all though, a good Sunday. Believe it or not, getting that job done was completely satisfying.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Sticking to me like clingwrap
The subject line pretty much describes everything in the last few days because it has been so damn humid! But today the humidity broke and we opened the house up. I'm sitting on the porch with the laptop listening to the laptop iTunes library on shuffle. It's some pretty eclectic stuff as it's an amalgam of Heidi and me.
I made it through my overnights relatively unscathed. I was very tired after they were done, and was never so excited to be unwanted than I was Friday afternoon when the people at work were doing okay enough for me to NOT have to come in at 3PM. Since then, I have been mostly catching up on sleep. I slept for 12 hours last night, from midnight to nearly noon so consequently I'm not really tired now. Although if I went up and got in bed, I would probably fall asleep instantly.
Great quotes of the last few days:
If you have not seen Stevie Nicks cover Dave Matthews' "Crash Into Me", you simply must. I love her little monologue prior to the song. She is at the top of her game right now. I just wish she would get her butt into the studio and record a new solo album!
The plan tomorrow is to go to Prairie Moon Winery for the afternoon after doing some yardwork, but it looks like the weather might have other plans. 50% chance of rain does not make that kind of thing easy to do.
I'm catching up on Casey Stratton's podcasts and really, the last one was fascinating. Of course, it didn't hurt that he answered a question from yours truly, but the story of him recording his album Lily Sleeps is amazing. I can't even get my head around the idea that 90 songs came from those sessions! Anyway, he answered my question about one of my all time favorite Casey Stratton songs "Dog's Mercury." I was curious as to the origin of that song. I was hoping for something more profound, but I'll take what I get. You can subscribe to Casey's podcasts here.
And with that, I think Heidi and I are off to bathe in 90s nostalgia. We Netflixed "NewsRadio" which, while not quite as good as we remember it, is just light and fluffy enough that it is fun to end the day with. I had no idea it was on for five seasons!
I made it through my overnights relatively unscathed. I was very tired after they were done, and was never so excited to be unwanted than I was Friday afternoon when the people at work were doing okay enough for me to NOT have to come in at 3PM. Since then, I have been mostly catching up on sleep. I slept for 12 hours last night, from midnight to nearly noon so consequently I'm not really tired now. Although if I went up and got in bed, I would probably fall asleep instantly.
Great quotes of the last few days:
- "Turn the kitchen light off!" --Heidi, to me on Friday morning after I got home from work. We were laying in bed around 8:30AM and she was waiting for me to turn my bedside lamp off. Great hilarity and laughing ensued. Bonus points if you get the reference.
- "I'll meet you in the beginning of the Dewey Decimal System." --me, to Heidi when we were at the library on Friday afternoon. Perhaps the geekiest thing to have ever crossed my lips, and that's really saying something.
- "I can't say he does anything for me. His eyes are too small, and too scruffy! The boys may have him." --Heidi, on Darren Hayes when I was watching The Time Machine Tour.
If you have not seen Stevie Nicks cover Dave Matthews' "Crash Into Me", you simply must. I love her little monologue prior to the song. She is at the top of her game right now. I just wish she would get her butt into the studio and record a new solo album!
The plan tomorrow is to go to Prairie Moon Winery for the afternoon after doing some yardwork, but it looks like the weather might have other plans. 50% chance of rain does not make that kind of thing easy to do.
I'm catching up on Casey Stratton's podcasts and really, the last one was fascinating. Of course, it didn't hurt that he answered a question from yours truly, but the story of him recording his album Lily Sleeps is amazing. I can't even get my head around the idea that 90 songs came from those sessions! Anyway, he answered my question about one of my all time favorite Casey Stratton songs "Dog's Mercury." I was curious as to the origin of that song. I was hoping for something more profound, but I'll take what I get. You can subscribe to Casey's podcasts here.
And with that, I think Heidi and I are off to bathe in 90s nostalgia. We Netflixed "NewsRadio" which, while not quite as good as we remember it, is just light and fluffy enough that it is fun to end the day with. I had no idea it was on for five seasons!
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Summer nights
It is amazing to me that July is nearly over. Well, it's over half over and before you know it, it will be August. We went over to Carroll today so that Anna could go to the circus with my mom and dad and Heidi and I could go see The Dark Knight. The movie is highly recommended - seriously, the buzz around the movie is right on the money. I'm not sure I'm willing to call it a better superhero movie than Spiderman 2 (which I thoroughly enjoyed), but it was very good. Heath Ledger is almost assured to get an Oscar nomination and the rest of the cast turned in good performances as well. But seriously, it was Ledger's movie.
After the movie, we had a lazy afternoon at my folks' house which mostly consisted of me being a layabout and also taking a serious nap. There is something about their house that just inspires me to sleep. I don't know what it is for sure, but I nap there almost without fail every single time we go to visit. I think it has something to do with it being the house I grew up in. I feel pretty lucky to still be able to visit the house I grew up in, the one in which I spent my non-wayward youth, for a lot of people don't have that option. My mom and dad are in the process of renovating the house room by room and they are doing a great job. Although I was upstairs while I was there and stopped by the upstairs bathroom and I swear that hasn't changed a lick since I was a wee child. It has the same carpet, the same wallpaper, the same non-functional sink, the same black towel shelf with rust stains from where I would set glasses of water or whatever. It was oddly comforting. I know they're going to gut that room next, and it makes me a bit sad, but honestly, it needs to be updated! I would give my eye teeth for their claw foot bathtub, but seriously where would we put it?
As we were getting ready to leave, my dad noticed that the passenger's side front tire was pretty much flat. We pumped it back up again, but then we found the culprit. A screw had lodged itself in the tire which made it pretty much impossible to drive on that tire all the way back to Ames. (As Heidi so appropriately put it, "we've been screwed!") Anyway, we contemplated putting on the donut and just driving slowly back, but then Mom and Dad told us just to take their car and they would take care of the tire sometime this week. I am goddamn lucky to have such good folks that, even at the age of 36, still want to take care of me and my family. So we drove their car back and got home around 9:30PM.
On the drive back, I was thinking about how Sunday nights were when I was in high school. Mostly, they didn't mean anything. The only difference between the week and the weekend in those days was that "The Young & The Restless" wasn't on on the weekend. That changed quite a bit in college as every summer I had a job that was Monday through Friday and it was a reasonable approximation of the working world (although I could still wear jeans to work which decidedly does not fly at my current job) so there was a difference. But even then, that money was just gravy and not the stuff that keeps food on our table and the lights on and the roof over our heads. Those were simpler times, but I would not go back to them given the chance.
In addition to The Dark Knight, I saw The Incredible Hulk with Matt on Friday night which was leaps and bounds better than the Ang Lee version. We went out for coffee afterward to deconstruct the movie and then I hit Hy-Vee to pick up some Damp Rid to battle the latest deluge to threaten the basement. I was on the way back from the West Ames Hy-Vee (which, from this point forward, will be referred to as "the ghetto Hy-Vee") and was listening to 100.3 The Bus since I had forgotten my iPod at home. A song I had not heard in an absolute age came on the radio - one that had nearly fallen off my radar altogether. It was the 1985 Clarence Clemons/Jackson Browne duet "You're A Friend Of Mine." The Bus will truly play any song, I swear. But what a good song to hear. I must have grabbed it in the Napster days because you certainly can't purchase it digitally anywhere.
So a good weekend. We're three episodes from the end of Season One of "Ugly Betty" and I've picked "The X-Files" back up again. Scully is as hot as ever, and even more so in this shot:
All she has to do is say "I couldn't find anything in my post-mortem exam to suggest anything supernatural" and she'll have me. Scully, I love it when you're all rational. It makes me weak in the knees.
And can I just say that whenever there's a scene on "Ugly Betty" featuring the subway, I just go "le sigh." I heart New York.
After the movie, we had a lazy afternoon at my folks' house which mostly consisted of me being a layabout and also taking a serious nap. There is something about their house that just inspires me to sleep. I don't know what it is for sure, but I nap there almost without fail every single time we go to visit. I think it has something to do with it being the house I grew up in. I feel pretty lucky to still be able to visit the house I grew up in, the one in which I spent my non-wayward youth, for a lot of people don't have that option. My mom and dad are in the process of renovating the house room by room and they are doing a great job. Although I was upstairs while I was there and stopped by the upstairs bathroom and I swear that hasn't changed a lick since I was a wee child. It has the same carpet, the same wallpaper, the same non-functional sink, the same black towel shelf with rust stains from where I would set glasses of water or whatever. It was oddly comforting. I know they're going to gut that room next, and it makes me a bit sad, but honestly, it needs to be updated! I would give my eye teeth for their claw foot bathtub, but seriously where would we put it?
As we were getting ready to leave, my dad noticed that the passenger's side front tire was pretty much flat. We pumped it back up again, but then we found the culprit. A screw had lodged itself in the tire which made it pretty much impossible to drive on that tire all the way back to Ames. (As Heidi so appropriately put it, "we've been screwed!") Anyway, we contemplated putting on the donut and just driving slowly back, but then Mom and Dad told us just to take their car and they would take care of the tire sometime this week. I am goddamn lucky to have such good folks that, even at the age of 36, still want to take care of me and my family. So we drove their car back and got home around 9:30PM.
On the drive back, I was thinking about how Sunday nights were when I was in high school. Mostly, they didn't mean anything. The only difference between the week and the weekend in those days was that "The Young & The Restless" wasn't on on the weekend. That changed quite a bit in college as every summer I had a job that was Monday through Friday and it was a reasonable approximation of the working world (although I could still wear jeans to work which decidedly does not fly at my current job) so there was a difference. But even then, that money was just gravy and not the stuff that keeps food on our table and the lights on and the roof over our heads. Those were simpler times, but I would not go back to them given the chance.
In addition to The Dark Knight, I saw The Incredible Hulk with Matt on Friday night which was leaps and bounds better than the Ang Lee version. We went out for coffee afterward to deconstruct the movie and then I hit Hy-Vee to pick up some Damp Rid to battle the latest deluge to threaten the basement. I was on the way back from the West Ames Hy-Vee (which, from this point forward, will be referred to as "the ghetto Hy-Vee") and was listening to 100.3 The Bus since I had forgotten my iPod at home. A song I had not heard in an absolute age came on the radio - one that had nearly fallen off my radar altogether. It was the 1985 Clarence Clemons/Jackson Browne duet "You're A Friend Of Mine." The Bus will truly play any song, I swear. But what a good song to hear. I must have grabbed it in the Napster days because you certainly can't purchase it digitally anywhere.
So a good weekend. We're three episodes from the end of Season One of "Ugly Betty" and I've picked "The X-Files" back up again. Scully is as hot as ever, and even more so in this shot:
All she has to do is say "I couldn't find anything in my post-mortem exam to suggest anything supernatural" and she'll have me. Scully, I love it when you're all rational. It makes me weak in the knees.And can I just say that whenever there's a scene on "Ugly Betty" featuring the subway, I just go "le sigh." I heart New York.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Questions from Heidi
It is past time to start answering some of these questions that came my way via Heidi, Jeff, Caryle and Mary because of the 5 questions meme. At first, I thought about putting these on my dust-covered LiveJournal that I only keep around for commenting on other people's LJs, but then I decided, no, I'll just do it here. So here we go. The first set of five questions comes from Heidi because that's just the way it is.
(Incidentally, if you choose to comment on this post, don't expect questions from me. I'm tapped out. But far be it for me to discourage comments.)
1. So, be honest. WHY do you think David Tennant is so attractive--I don't just mean to you or to me, but in general. I'm talking the whole package: the person, the physique, the everything.
Leave it to Heidi to start out with asking a question that concerns my mancrush, David Tennant. I'm not ashamed and totally comfortable admitting to that! There are many reasons why I think that Tennant is just so damn cool (and why he ends up being my avatar more often than not.) First off, he comes off as a big kid, someone who will sit and talk the minutiae of whatever obscure 12-year-old boy thing you can think of until the cows come home. You can tell this by the pure and unadulterated joy he so obviously gets from playing the Doctor. He also has the geeky cute and cool thing down to a science. I could only hope to reach Tennant levels of that! He also proves that tall, lanky guys that are not built CAN be famous. Plus, I would pay large sums of money to have his hair.
Naturally, I don't know Tennant and will almost certainly never meet him (never say never), so who knows if any of that is accurate. Mostly, he just seems like a genuinely nice guy that would be cool to hang out with, someone who would be a cool friend to have and meet up for lunch every so often. And then talk 12-year-old boy things to death.
But he could be a total dick (although I doubt it.) There's a reason why it's best to keep your distance from your heroes.
2. What is the best movie/fiction monster, and why is it the best one? (You define what best is, btw.)
This is an easy one and the answer to this will come as no surprise to most people: zombies. Zombies are truly the best movie monsters of all, although as I was telling Thomas, it is much more of a challenge to translate the visceral terror of a zombie apocalypse in a book than it is in a movie. The reason they are the best movie monster is really twofold. The first reason is they are us. How many people have bitten it (no pun intended) in zombie movies because they made the mistake of thinking that some shred of humanity remained in their zombified loved one? The fact that any of us could be a zombie makes it truly terrifying. Also, the exponential growth of the zombie mob ensures their survival. What they lack in speed, they make up for in numbers.
3. You get a one night stand with no repercussions with one member of the BVTS gang. Who do you take with you into the closet? Or are you holding out for Scully?
While the natural tendency would be to say Cordelia aka Charisma Carpenter (not that I would ever dream of turning her down either), I think I am going to shock the hell out of everyone and pick someone unexpected - Jenny Calendar. Although not technically a member of the Buffy gang, she did play a key role in Season Two and since anyone in on the whole "Buffy's the Slayer?" thing is immediately a member of the gang, I think it counts. She had this whole sexy yet nerdy, smart and down to earth thing going on. She was spunky and independent which beats the hell out of some weeping violet. And when she turned out to be part of the gypsy clan that cursed Angel, well, who saw that coming?
But yeah, I'm totally holding out for Scully.
4. You are in charge of a U.S. federal agency for one day and you have the full power and money to do ONE thing. You can build a bridge or set up a train or pay off something or fire somebody or reverse a decision. Full power over everything, and it's lasting, but you have ONE shot. What do you do?
My inclination is to do something like keep a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage from ever seeing the light of day in the U.S. Constitution, but since that does little to actually change people's minds, I would probably get into the Transportation Department and get light rail going in this country like it should be. We don't all need to be driving our cars to get everywhere we need to get to!
5. Best moment from your childhood: the one that makes your heart glow just to think of it. Could be obscure or could be a recurring event.
Well, it's not the Branded bike, that's for sure! Although I'm not sure I would trade that memory either, even though it is not a warm and fuzzy one.
I think it's probably that summer of 1986, age 14. It was my favorite summer of music of my adolescence. I was about to head into high school. True Blue was released, for God's sake. We took a family vacation to the Grand Canyon and listened to more Bee Gees and 5th Dimension than should be legal. I watched "One Day At A Time" reruns on Channel 8 every weeknight at 11. Sure, it wasn't all roses, but I always think of it fondly and really, it's the reason why I like this music video so much.
It was the very first Heart video I ever saw! Ann's hair is insane, but just thinking of it reminds me of that summer.
(Incidentally, if you choose to comment on this post, don't expect questions from me. I'm tapped out. But far be it for me to discourage comments.)
1. So, be honest. WHY do you think David Tennant is so attractive--I don't just mean to you or to me, but in general. I'm talking the whole package: the person, the physique, the everything.
Leave it to Heidi to start out with asking a question that concerns my mancrush, David Tennant. I'm not ashamed and totally comfortable admitting to that! There are many reasons why I think that Tennant is just so damn cool (and why he ends up being my avatar more often than not.) First off, he comes off as a big kid, someone who will sit and talk the minutiae of whatever obscure 12-year-old boy thing you can think of until the cows come home. You can tell this by the pure and unadulterated joy he so obviously gets from playing the Doctor. He also has the geeky cute and cool thing down to a science. I could only hope to reach Tennant levels of that! He also proves that tall, lanky guys that are not built CAN be famous. Plus, I would pay large sums of money to have his hair.
Naturally, I don't know Tennant and will almost certainly never meet him (never say never), so who knows if any of that is accurate. Mostly, he just seems like a genuinely nice guy that would be cool to hang out with, someone who would be a cool friend to have and meet up for lunch every so often. And then talk 12-year-old boy things to death.
But he could be a total dick (although I doubt it.) There's a reason why it's best to keep your distance from your heroes.
2. What is the best movie/fiction monster, and why is it the best one? (You define what best is, btw.)
This is an easy one and the answer to this will come as no surprise to most people: zombies. Zombies are truly the best movie monsters of all, although as I was telling Thomas, it is much more of a challenge to translate the visceral terror of a zombie apocalypse in a book than it is in a movie. The reason they are the best movie monster is really twofold. The first reason is they are us. How many people have bitten it (no pun intended) in zombie movies because they made the mistake of thinking that some shred of humanity remained in their zombified loved one? The fact that any of us could be a zombie makes it truly terrifying. Also, the exponential growth of the zombie mob ensures their survival. What they lack in speed, they make up for in numbers.
3. You get a one night stand with no repercussions with one member of the BVTS gang. Who do you take with you into the closet? Or are you holding out for Scully?
While the natural tendency would be to say Cordelia aka Charisma Carpenter (not that I would ever dream of turning her down either), I think I am going to shock the hell out of everyone and pick someone unexpected - Jenny Calendar. Although not technically a member of the Buffy gang, she did play a key role in Season Two and since anyone in on the whole "Buffy's the Slayer?" thing is immediately a member of the gang, I think it counts. She had this whole sexy yet nerdy, smart and down to earth thing going on. She was spunky and independent which beats the hell out of some weeping violet. And when she turned out to be part of the gypsy clan that cursed Angel, well, who saw that coming?
But yeah, I'm totally holding out for Scully.
4. You are in charge of a U.S. federal agency for one day and you have the full power and money to do ONE thing. You can build a bridge or set up a train or pay off something or fire somebody or reverse a decision. Full power over everything, and it's lasting, but you have ONE shot. What do you do?
My inclination is to do something like keep a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage from ever seeing the light of day in the U.S. Constitution, but since that does little to actually change people's minds, I would probably get into the Transportation Department and get light rail going in this country like it should be. We don't all need to be driving our cars to get everywhere we need to get to!
5. Best moment from your childhood: the one that makes your heart glow just to think of it. Could be obscure or could be a recurring event.
Well, it's not the Branded bike, that's for sure! Although I'm not sure I would trade that memory either, even though it is not a warm and fuzzy one.
I think it's probably that summer of 1986, age 14. It was my favorite summer of music of my adolescence. I was about to head into high school. True Blue was released, for God's sake. We took a family vacation to the Grand Canyon and listened to more Bee Gees and 5th Dimension than should be legal. I watched "One Day At A Time" reruns on Channel 8 every weeknight at 11. Sure, it wasn't all roses, but I always think of it fondly and really, it's the reason why I like this music video so much.
It was the very first Heart video I ever saw! Ann's hair is insane, but just thinking of it reminds me of that summer.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Carnt sleep
(yes, that's spelled right, although I have no idea why it is spelled that way)
I kind of predicted this would happen, but it didn't happen in quite the way I thought it would. It's 1:45 AM and I am awake and am not able to sleep. I had slept a bit, but woke up and then the Cat Howl of Death blared from downstairs so I went down to investigate. The next thing I know, I'm scooping cat litter in literally the middle of the night and have woken myself up beyond my ability to go back to sleep. And at this point in the night, I hesitate to take anything to sleep for fear of the inevitable hangover in the morning.
Sleep and I have such a fickle relationship. It's not something that I get nearly enough of, but it's something I wish I could do without. I just think of all the things I could get done if I didn't have to sleep. Actually, what would probably happen is I would just have more time to waste. I am thinking of things that I have to do that I am not getting done because my time management skills have been poor of late and how I'm going to probably have to use the day off I took Monday to work on stuff I need to be finishing for work.
So here I am, and I went through the flower essences and found a couple that I thought would help send me off to dreamland. They really do work, at least in my personal experience. I vowed I will be back in bed at 2AM and, heaven help me, I need to be asleep shortly thereafter because my alarm is going off at 6:15AM. That will be so much sooner than I want it to be.
But that having been said, having listened to "Carnt Sleep" several times while writing this, I just can't get over how much I like Sarah Cracknell. She reminds me of Debbie Harry, but somehow, the comparison doesn't really connect.
I kind of predicted this would happen, but it didn't happen in quite the way I thought it would. It's 1:45 AM and I am awake and am not able to sleep. I had slept a bit, but woke up and then the Cat Howl of Death blared from downstairs so I went down to investigate. The next thing I know, I'm scooping cat litter in literally the middle of the night and have woken myself up beyond my ability to go back to sleep. And at this point in the night, I hesitate to take anything to sleep for fear of the inevitable hangover in the morning.
Sleep and I have such a fickle relationship. It's not something that I get nearly enough of, but it's something I wish I could do without. I just think of all the things I could get done if I didn't have to sleep. Actually, what would probably happen is I would just have more time to waste. I am thinking of things that I have to do that I am not getting done because my time management skills have been poor of late and how I'm going to probably have to use the day off I took Monday to work on stuff I need to be finishing for work.
So here I am, and I went through the flower essences and found a couple that I thought would help send me off to dreamland. They really do work, at least in my personal experience. I vowed I will be back in bed at 2AM and, heaven help me, I need to be asleep shortly thereafter because my alarm is going off at 6:15AM. That will be so much sooner than I want it to be.
But that having been said, having listened to "Carnt Sleep" several times while writing this, I just can't get over how much I like Sarah Cracknell. She reminds me of Debbie Harry, but somehow, the comparison doesn't really connect.
Monday, July 07, 2008
Even the nights aren't better
I know that what little cred I had just went out the window because I dared use an Air Supply reference in the post title, but deal.
The weekend is over and I, sadly, have to work
the graveyard shift (9PM till 7:30AM) on Tuesday night. This is usually not a big deal for me. I kind of like getting ready to work overnights because I stay up until 3AM and then try to sleep as much as possible the day of the overnight shift. I usually get a lot of TV watched or blog posts written or other such stuff, so that's a good thing. But for whatever reason, I'm just not looking forward to it this time. I think the problem is that usually the graveyard shift is a one time thing that you do and then you don't do it again for 8-12 months. But because of the way things work, I get to do one shift Tuesday night, and then in two weeks, I get to do two more! To say that it kind of kills the whole month of July is probably worthy of Heidi's "Drama Queen" LJ avatar. But it is disruptive. It messes up my sleep cycle which is always pretty precariously balanced as it is.
I'll get by, no doubt about it. I always have and always will. If you're going to work in health care, you just have to expect this from time to time. But the timing of working the graveyard shift is just not the greatest this time.
And as far as the questions for the 5 questions meme goes - I am going to give it my best shot to send them out to everyone who replied tonight after work. I mean, I'll have to force myself to stay up anyway, right?
The weekend is over and I, sadly, have to work
the graveyard shift (9PM till 7:30AM) on Tuesday night. This is usually not a big deal for me. I kind of like getting ready to work overnights because I stay up until 3AM and then try to sleep as much as possible the day of the overnight shift. I usually get a lot of TV watched or blog posts written or other such stuff, so that's a good thing. But for whatever reason, I'm just not looking forward to it this time. I think the problem is that usually the graveyard shift is a one time thing that you do and then you don't do it again for 8-12 months. But because of the way things work, I get to do one shift Tuesday night, and then in two weeks, I get to do two more! To say that it kind of kills the whole month of July is I'll get by, no doubt about it. I always have and always will. If you're going to work in health care, you just have to expect this from time to time. But the timing of working the graveyard shift is just not the greatest this time.
And as far as the questions for the 5 questions meme goes - I am going to give it my best shot to send them out to everyone who replied tonight after work. I mean, I'll have to force myself to stay up anyway, right?
Saturday, July 05, 2008
Sparkle, Neely, sparkle!!
We had a pretty good 4th of July here. We did all the usual things -- the parade in the morning and fireworks at dusk. The best part about fireworks is that we can just walk down the block and watch them from the 6th Street hill. Even though they are shot off a ways away from there, it affords a decent view of the pyrotechnics.Of course, there were also sparklers and snakes. Anna prefers the new-fangled, 3 stage sparklers. Me, I'm much more partial to the old fashioned sparklers that sparkle for a minute and then go out. I also have very little time for snakes because they are messy and leave what appear to be permanent stains on the cement. We did some at our house in Washington the first year we lived there and when we moved 5 years later, the stains were still there. Mommie would not approve. No doubt she'd make me get out the Old Dutch and SCRUB.
Anna had a good time though. Her grandma (Heidi's mom) has been here the last couple days and today she's going to go back with her and spend a couple days at Camp Grandma. Heidi and I are going down to Jeff's for a Star Wars themed party that promises to be fun.
Anyway, here's a couple of pictures of Anna "sparkling" (but not like Neely) as well as some amazing pictures of the fireworks display that my mother-in-law took. Apparently she has a "fireworks" setting on her digital camera. Who knew?
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