Failed competancy check.

So yeah. It's been a while. And this isn't much of a post, but don't worry - I've got a couple of things in the works. In the meantime, here's a funny story.

Once upon a time, there was a girl. This girl rolled over in bed one night in the middle of a lovely dream. There may or may not have been pixies. She rolled over and woke herself up from her lovely dream by solidly smacking her forehead against the wall. Then she had a headache all the next day.

Yes, this is my life. I am that girl. And one day I will learn competance.

Hopefully.

Lovely ladies.

I watched a movie recently in which a character explains to another character:

"In the movies we have leading ladies and we have the best friend. You, I can tell, are a leading lady, but for some reason you are behaving like the best friend."

I used to be the best friend. For year's I was the best friend, which is strange as for the majority of my life, I prided myself on being the leading lady. But sometimes life takes over and knocks you down, and then decides to throw a couple of curve balls while you're down there, and it's just easier to put yourself in the passenger side of the car for a change and be driven around. And it's been fine. But it took me hearing that one line for me to understand why I haven't been as happy lately. I'm tired of the passenger seat. I'm ready for a little limelight. I mean, you're supposed to be the leading lady of your own life, right? I realize that it's taken a while, but just like sometimes you have to fall to stand up straighter, I think sometimes you need to let someone else drive the plot lines for a bit , if for no other reason than to see where you don't want to story to go. I find that I'm rediscovering a little thing called gumption. I gotta say, it's kinda nice.....

Love story and medieval fashion.

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?

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

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?

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.

A day of thanks.

Today is Thanksgiving. While I have spent Thanksgiving away from my family before, I have always spent the day with a family - if not my own then with another's whom I am close to. This Thanksgiving, however, was not usual in that sense. Today I spent with friends, and with friends of friends, trying to communicate across languages that no one spoke very well and coming up with/explaining strange English idioms. Today I needed to phone two numbers to speak with my parents, one of which I had never dialed before. Today I woke to an empty house, and watched the Macy's parade alone with my eggs and my tea. It was not a bad day. I had a lovely time, and shared many laughs, and only now have lost my voice. (I have been quite sick over the past couple of days.) I do not regret the day, nor the circumstances that have brought me here - quite the opposite. But there were several points along the way in which the strangeness struck me. I've never woken alone before. There was always someone waiting to greet me to say hello and "happy day!" There was always someone else in the car on the way to wherever we were going. I never had to call twice. It is a poignant reminder of my choices, and the situation in which I have placed myself. And in the end, I'm glad of it. I had a wonderful day, I don't mean to say that I haven't, really. I'm happy with where I am in my life, and proud of the decisions I've made. But when you have a big, loud, at times overly-affectionate family, spending the holidays in a certain amount of solitude strikes a chord that is at once both a pleasant change of pace, strikingly unfamiliar, and just strange. You are both glad to get a break but confused at the scenery change, and almost more confused by how much you miss them. An interesting paradox.

Also, I got Rick-rolled this morning by the Foster's Imaginary Friends float at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. How blissfully uncool.

Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna turn around and desert you...