It’s a Family Affair

Every morning I wake up with a different song playing in my head. Sometimes I can explain it, for instance, if I heard the song right before I went to bed the night before, while other times I have no explanation as to how it got there. Today’s is a prime example of the latter. Now I like this song but ask me to sing more than the four words in the title above and you’ll catch me scratching my head.

So you can probably see the dilemma here. The same four words playing on a loop over and over again as I sit awake, alone, until Matt gets up, is moderately maddening. But instead of heading off to the loony bin, I’m going to go with it and use the song title as a writing prompt. Hey, I’m all about turning the negative into a positive like that.

Speaking of prompt…as soon as I decided to write about it, I promptly lost all steam and motivation to do so. This has been a common problem lately. I think there are a few reasons for it.

First off, I don’t want to sit here and ramble on aimlessly about everything I’ve done lately because I won’t even be able to see the bored look in your eye as you drift off and start imagining what you’re having for dinner instead of absorbing the words on the screen. My life lately has been one long thread. Literally. Pretty much all I’ve done lately is sew.

Which brings me to the second reason. Sewing, unless you’re a seamstress, is a pretty boring topic. Wait, that was the same as the first reason right? Yeah, I guess you can probably understand the inclination to keep it to myself.

So (or sew?? Haha! Oh I kill me…) this is why I had all these grand plans to turn this post into some wonderful tale about my past, something awesome and fun from the 70’s and I would have woven it around my family like the song line had been written specifically for us.

For example, I could do a big story about how I was picked on in grammar school for wearing hand me down clothes that came from my much older cousins. Or I could talk about the time when my aunt tried to talk me out of drinking because my whole family was full of alcoholics but, not only was I not entirely surprised by the information, I think I surprised her by sharing that I just wanted to go to the party; I didn’t even have one drink that night. Perhaps a nice long post about the way two people is quite enough to make a family and that I don’t need to have kids to feel like I’ve achieved that feeling.

But every single one of those topics and more would just fall flat right now because that’s how I feel. As flat as the snowman ornaments I stitched up recently. Flat, listless, languid, lifeless, wordless and inspirationless. (Is that even a word? Probably not but it pretty much perfectly describes my overall brainwave right now so I’m keeping it. Suck on that Oxford Dictionary).

I think I know the reason. I’m saving it up in the imaginary bunker in my brain. The bunker is made of four foot thick concrete walls with a solid steel hatch that only I can access because it takes my fingerprint and retina scan to get in. Yeah, the thing is secure. And for good reason. It is storing the makings of my book inside its walls.

Imagination, inspiration and ability to share a fully fluffed up story, full of good old fashioned chewy bits like warm date nut cookies, will just have to wait until November. (Ooh, cookies…)

So what the hell do I do in the meantime? I guess I could regale all of you with tales of my grocery shopping adventures but somehow I think that might have me losing a few readers. Not that I couldn’t make it funny -- hell I kept everyone reading about me having a cold by sprinkling in crap about puffy heart key chains, local New Jersey townies and Pauly Shore movies -- but something tells me it would just be far too shameless, even for me, to try to add humor to a Peapod delivery. I mean, they weren’t even late and actually delivered everything I ordered so how could I ever twist that one ya know?

Plus I’d never want to insult us by writing an entire 875 word post full of absolutely no content whatsoever. That would just be…well, it would surely be random lunacy, if you will, and I wouldn’t dream of doing that to any of us! Honestly, what do you take me for? Geesh…

While I dye my hair and get ready to go see my mom’s work at the Arlington Open Studios, and then attend my uncle’s big sixtieth birthday party later today, I will leave you with this quote my drum instructor told me yesterday. Apparently it is from a cowboy movie he watched recently.

“Never hasn’t happened yet.”

Yup, you’re right. That quote has absolutely nothing to do with anything I’ve written here.  Just like everything else.

No Shock What This Post Is About Right?

The last day of May. The final post in the challenge I placed on myself the very first day of this month to post something every day. I like challenges. I like to write. It seemed like a perfect marriage of the two concepts and in reality it really was.

I learned a lot in this past month. Mostly about myself and the attitude I have toward writing, blogging specifically. After doing this it hit me that I really love to blog, it is nice to use this space as an extension of my journals. I like that this blog never had a set theme because it allows the flexibility to go all over the place without feeling weird about it. I can write like I have always loved to write, as if I am talking directly to you.

Yeah, you.

Unlike articles or my other blog, I write here for no other reason than to let all of you into my freaky little head. I like sharing a small part of my whacked out life with all of you and although I think most of you are crazy for enjoying reading about it, I am happy that you do. The funny thing is I think it is something I would do even if no one was reading it. I love writing in my journal but some days my stream of consciousness needs to be purged so fast that a pen just does not cut it. Some days those thoughts simply need to be forced through the keys.

Posting everyday was not always good, but not always bad either. Some things that I shared this month surprised me, other times I started out writing one thing and after three or four revisions it spawned into something completely different than the original. There were definitely days I had zero desire to put anything out there. Not just the migraine day but if you read me regularly it will be pretty easy to tell which posts were forced writing or cop out posts. On the flip side, my very favorite post from this month I wrote in fifteen minutes right after I woke up and barely edited before sharing it. This one came really easy too. Sometimes it just works out that way.

I have also enjoyed discovering new blogs this month as I tried to get out there a little more and connect with some folks of a similar mindset -- the more random the better it seemed. On top of that it was just wonderful to have an opportunity to read the people who I have grown to enjoy as a regular part of my day. Perhaps some people might find it odd that I enjoy getting my “news” from the land of blogs but truth be told I feel that the media shares far too little about the lives of the people who make this world what it is. The ability to see the world through someone else’s videos, photos and, most importantly, words, is like a newscast for my soul. It uplifts me seriously. So I read blogs instead of CNN or Boston.com and start my day with a smile. Thanks to everyone who writes a blog because I really love to read them.

Because I like to write more from inspiration rather than forced creativity, I can’t say that I will keep up with a daily post forever, that is definitely a whole lot of pressure especially on the off days, but I will do my best to try to write as close to everyday as possible here from now on. With the exception of tomorrow. I am taking a well deserved, thoroughly needed day off to recharge my brain so I can come back strong in June. As an addition to the new life in the blog I think I have found that new template I was talking about and it will be unveiled with my first June post.

Thank you for sticking with my month of madness everyone. You are awesome. ♥love♥

Little Thumbs Up for Henry

Last night after returning from a yummy feast to commemorate our meet-a-versary, I started pondering what I might want to write about today. I opened up my little notebook that I always carry and jotted down a bunch of quick burst ideas; something about celery, eggs, soup, bread crumbs and milk. Huh, come to think of it maybe that was just the grocery list and not so much ideas for really rockin’ blog topics. Because I was trying too hard to come up with something interesting, witty and brilliant, I decided to employ Matt to give me a title so I could craft something phenomenal out of it for your reading pleasure.

He pondered the request for a few minutes while updating his Crackbook status and came up with something much too serious sounding. I quickly dismissed it, reminding him what blog this was being posted on, and without missing a beat he uttered the current title of this post. It was just fun enough to be right on the money, just odd enough to be something I would use; there was nothing I could say against it. Damn it.

Now I am even more lost than before and strongly considering falling back on the grocery list, telling everyone about just how much I love celery. Where I bought my last bunch of celery. Why celery is good for weight loss. How to ensure that into every life a little celery must fall. Or something like that.

Maybe I could make up a little story about the bagger at my grocery store being named Henry and after a particularly fantastic job of placing my items in my reusable tote (read: not putting the celery at the bottom of the bag under the cans of soup) I shoot Henry a little thumbs up with a smile like some cheesy end of an 80’s sitcom.

Now that I think about it, there are probably a billion stories I could share about times when I gave or received a thumbs up because 1. I frequently talk with my hands and 2. I enjoy being told I have done well at something -- but the trouble with the blog post concept here is not the thumbs up, it is with Henry.

I do not know anyone named Henry that could act as inspiration, not even in passing, not even a guy I once made out with on the dance floor of some night club fifteen some odd years ago. He told me his name was Ralph. Then again it was at a club and we were making out before we introduced ourselves so he could have been using a fake name. Although Ralph is not exactly the kind of name anyone is fantasizing screaming out in a fit of early twenties passion so it probably really was his name. Regardless, I did not go home with the kid to find out what it sounded like when shouted after "oh God..." What kind of girl do you think I am?

OK in all fairness I sort of used to be that girl, but even in my overly promiscuous youth I knew not to go home with someone whose moniker was Ralph. Never in the history of my dating experience would I have considered a guy named Ralph to be a phenomenal lover. (OK go ahead all you Ralph’s out there, if you are so amazing, prove it. I will watch your silly self made YouTube porn and gladly judge you, bring it on.)

But I digress, sorry Henry. Let us get back to your story, but perhaps instead of being just a grocery store bagger we should beef you up a little bit so you do not fall into the same tragic end as all those poor Ralph’s out there. Miserable. Alone. Not having sex with hot sweaty chics you dance with and French kiss in clubs. Maybe we should make you a superhero.

Henry -- bagger by day, super hero fighting crime by night? The grocery store apron would certainly be one hell of a good disguise. And it could double as his cape. He would run around Arlington saving cats from trees and helping little old ladies to locate the vertical pedal on the right. His superpower would be the ability to perform mind control on everyone driving down Mass Ave to do the speed limit so there was never traffic. The end of each episode would be whoever he saved the night before coming in for groceries and after he does a particularly fine job of bagging, they would give a signature little thumbs up for Henry while he flashes a knowing wink into the camera.

Hmmm.

No, even though Superman pulled off Clark, Batman showed the tougher side of Bruce and Peter became a web-slinging building swinger, I still can not conceive of how little old Henry would be able to transform into such a powerhouse of planet saving. It just is not in the name. Sorry man.