I'm becoming more and more convinced that I was born in the wrong century. I recently watched the music video for Taylor Swift's new song "Lovestory."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KlbB7qt6v_0
You see the guy (your "romantic interest" for the next three minutes) wearing a very elaborate Victorian-esque outfit. Ruffles at the neck and everything. And I start to gape a little. A few mintues later, he is in a white linen shirt (open at the neck - of course), with light brown trousers and dark brown shin-high boots running across the meadow. And I almost swoon.
So it seems to me that I need to find myself a guy who also appreciates all things medieval. Someone who, if indeed they were born in the correct time period, at least understands the effects of a white linen shirt. Open at the neck. And swords. Oooo.......
Oh, dear. Wherefore art thou, dude?
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
My new song.
So friends and I used to joke that my song, the song written about me, was Shiksa Goddess from Jason Robert Brown's The Last Five Years. (Lyrics and YouTube provided below.)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AJkG7wCv0lI
http://www.soundtracklyrics.net/song-lyrics/the-last-5-years/shiksa-goddess.htm
There is a simple reason for this. As of freshman year of college four years ago, I am a shiksa. E spent about a month with me and determined that I was exactly the kind of large breasted Gentile girl that Jewish mothers spend sleepless nights worrying that their nice Jewish sons would fall for and bring home. That's why she made me a shirt. For Christmas.
Now, I have found, there is a new song to add to the list. I Could Be in Love With Someone Like You. Still Jason Robert Brown, but a new solo CD. Don't you fear, I am still a shiksa. This new song even mentions it in one line. I've just moved from Goddess to Queen. I can live with that. I've put links to the lyrics and YouTube video below. Just take a look and a listen. It's impressive.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hQDm3ika4v4&feature=related
http://www.jasonrobertbrown.com/music/clothes/lyrics.php?songID=clothes08
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AJkG7wCv0lI
http://www.soundtracklyrics.net/song-lyrics/the-last-5-years/shiksa-goddess.htm
There is a simple reason for this. As of freshman year of college four years ago, I am a shiksa. E spent about a month with me and determined that I was exactly the kind of large breasted Gentile girl that Jewish mothers spend sleepless nights worrying that their nice Jewish sons would fall for and bring home. That's why she made me a shirt. For Christmas.
Now, I have found, there is a new song to add to the list. I Could Be in Love With Someone Like You. Still Jason Robert Brown, but a new solo CD. Don't you fear, I am still a shiksa. This new song even mentions it in one line. I've just moved from Goddess to Queen. I can live with that. I've put links to the lyrics and YouTube video below. Just take a look and a listen. It's impressive.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hQDm3ika4v4&feature=related
http://www.jasonrobertbrown.com/music/clothes/lyrics.php?songID=clothes08
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Domesticated but not tamed.
Today was a lovely day that starts with last night. Last night I went to a friend's birthday party, staying almost the entire time with a small group of people in the kitchen gathered around the veggies and a delicious mango salsa. Leaving there around 11PM, I got home a little more than a half hour later, where I then proceeded to make myself a cup of spiced cider and crawled into bed with Dune: Messiah for a couple of hours. It's a lovely combination - hot beverage and book - that always leaves me feeling warm and content.
This morning was a long one. I awoke several times to the sounds of the snow storm outside, and curling up further under the blankets, let myself drift again into sleeping, finally getting up after noon. Clearly the weather had made sure that I should not leave the apartment, so I settled into the tasks I enjoy and the tasks I needed to get done. I made breakfast and beer bread, did a load of laundry (which I just finished folding and putting away), caught up on some TV watching, crawled back into bed for some more reading and a nap, and went downstairs to make dinner. Not that bad of a dinner either. Steak with onions, garlic, pinenuts and balsamic, mashed potatoes and broccoli, and the beer bread. Not too bad if I do say so myself. And now I am here, blogging about my simple day while I debate whether or not I want to watch a movie before I crawl once more into bed with my book, and what kind of tea I wish to make myself. For the moment, my worries are put away, to be dealt with. For the moment, I find comfort in the things that feel good. My clean room. My empty laundry basket. My full stomach and the knowledge of leftovers for lunch.
Before I go to bed, I will put the chicken for tomorrow's dinner in warm saltwater to soak in overnight. I have some small Christmas shopping to do, after which I will come home and bake and cook. Tuesday I will worry about packing for the trip to warmness, as I am calling the visit to my parent's new house, for then I will be forced to start dealing with reality again. For now I am concentrating on the simple happiness of the day, of the same expectation for tomorrow, and how lovely the snow looks outside. I'll deal with digging out the car later. Right now, the decision is mighty: chamomile or peppermint?
This morning was a long one. I awoke several times to the sounds of the snow storm outside, and curling up further under the blankets, let myself drift again into sleeping, finally getting up after noon. Clearly the weather had made sure that I should not leave the apartment, so I settled into the tasks I enjoy and the tasks I needed to get done. I made breakfast and beer bread, did a load of laundry (which I just finished folding and putting away), caught up on some TV watching, crawled back into bed for some more reading and a nap, and went downstairs to make dinner. Not that bad of a dinner either. Steak with onions, garlic, pinenuts and balsamic, mashed potatoes and broccoli, and the beer bread. Not too bad if I do say so myself. And now I am here, blogging about my simple day while I debate whether or not I want to watch a movie before I crawl once more into bed with my book, and what kind of tea I wish to make myself. For the moment, my worries are put away, to be dealt with. For the moment, I find comfort in the things that feel good. My clean room. My empty laundry basket. My full stomach and the knowledge of leftovers for lunch.
Before I go to bed, I will put the chicken for tomorrow's dinner in warm saltwater to soak in overnight. I have some small Christmas shopping to do, after which I will come home and bake and cook. Tuesday I will worry about packing for the trip to warmness, as I am calling the visit to my parent's new house, for then I will be forced to start dealing with reality again. For now I am concentrating on the simple happiness of the day, of the same expectation for tomorrow, and how lovely the snow looks outside. I'll deal with digging out the car later. Right now, the decision is mighty: chamomile or peppermint?
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Q: Who's a mister grumpy gills?
A: me.
I am grumpy. I know this. I accept it, although I am trying hard not to embrace it. I would try to just suppress and get over it, but the last time I did that I let a not-so-nice man do not-so-nice things. So now I am allowing myself to be grumpy and trying things to make it better rather than push it down. Like Rogers & Hammerstein's Cinderella. Or fudge.
I know what the problem is, too, which is almost frustrating in and of itself, since I don't really consider it a good enough reason. Things that I have dealt with for years are now starting to become things that I can no longer handle with the same necessary levels of compassion and patience. I think it comes from being outside of the situation enough to have gained the perspective that normal people don't have to deal with this. Normal people do not continuously let themselves become therapists to their parents. Normal people do not worry that some day their parents might actually divorce, and wonder which someone fears more - the failing of a marriage or the loss of the health insurance. Normal people do not have to repeat the same conversations with someone because they were too intoxicated to remember they spoke to you. Twice.
I realize that this is way more info than anybody reading this expected to get. Don't worry, it probably won't happen again. I do try to keep the personal shit away and stick to musings and thoughts and more friendly feelings about the world. But for now I'm tired of the rosy glasses, and would like people to understand where I'm coming from. I'm not upset at you, I'm just having a very angsty the-world-isn't-fair moment. It will pass. I know it will, because it always does. It did yesterday. Yesterday I had finally had enough of the world and retreated to solitaire (the card game) and music. And eventually I was able to come back down. I walked down the stairs and without words climbed into the lap of someone who I knew wouldn't ask any questions. "Are you OK?" is possibly the worst thing to say in these moments. Of course I'm not OK. If I was, do you think I would have been stressed out enough to need to leave the room? Instead I need exactly what I got, an arm around me and a pillow under my head. A silent reminder that world will eventually right itself. And eventually I came out of my shell, and started to talk again, and was able to laugh, and even touch other people. I'm getting better. I used to be much worse. It used to take much longer, and with much more coaxing. I let more people in now - I'm writing this, aren't I? Tonight, the solution is a hot shower to mentally cleanse, and fudge and Cinderella. With a friend. Not alone. I am driving somewhere to make sure that I am not alone. I really am much better. It just takes time. And patience. And sometimes, like right now, pure will.
I promise next post will be nicer.
I am grumpy. I know this. I accept it, although I am trying hard not to embrace it. I would try to just suppress and get over it, but the last time I did that I let a not-so-nice man do not-so-nice things. So now I am allowing myself to be grumpy and trying things to make it better rather than push it down. Like Rogers & Hammerstein's Cinderella. Or fudge.
I know what the problem is, too, which is almost frustrating in and of itself, since I don't really consider it a good enough reason. Things that I have dealt with for years are now starting to become things that I can no longer handle with the same necessary levels of compassion and patience. I think it comes from being outside of the situation enough to have gained the perspective that normal people don't have to deal with this. Normal people do not continuously let themselves become therapists to their parents. Normal people do not worry that some day their parents might actually divorce, and wonder which someone fears more - the failing of a marriage or the loss of the health insurance. Normal people do not have to repeat the same conversations with someone because they were too intoxicated to remember they spoke to you. Twice.
I realize that this is way more info than anybody reading this expected to get. Don't worry, it probably won't happen again. I do try to keep the personal shit away and stick to musings and thoughts and more friendly feelings about the world. But for now I'm tired of the rosy glasses, and would like people to understand where I'm coming from. I'm not upset at you, I'm just having a very angsty the-world-isn't-fair moment. It will pass. I know it will, because it always does. It did yesterday. Yesterday I had finally had enough of the world and retreated to solitaire (the card game) and music. And eventually I was able to come back down. I walked down the stairs and without words climbed into the lap of someone who I knew wouldn't ask any questions. "Are you OK?" is possibly the worst thing to say in these moments. Of course I'm not OK. If I was, do you think I would have been stressed out enough to need to leave the room? Instead I need exactly what I got, an arm around me and a pillow under my head. A silent reminder that world will eventually right itself. And eventually I came out of my shell, and started to talk again, and was able to laugh, and even touch other people. I'm getting better. I used to be much worse. It used to take much longer, and with much more coaxing. I let more people in now - I'm writing this, aren't I? Tonight, the solution is a hot shower to mentally cleanse, and fudge and Cinderella. With a friend. Not alone. I am driving somewhere to make sure that I am not alone. I really am much better. It just takes time. And patience. And sometimes, like right now, pure will.
I promise next post will be nicer.
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