To BeeGee? or Not to BeeGee?

 

That is the question that I struggle with each time I visit Netflix lately …

I know that I’m in a very small minority of the population who has fond memories of this movie. I’ve never met anyone else who liked it. See, I haven’t watched it since it came out, in 1978.  I was 8 then. Now Maddie is right about that age, and she seems to be getting into musicals …

so I just naturally thought …

But then, I’m afraid that once I watch it again, it will be all over. I’ll have to concede to all those who I have ever defended the movie to that it did, in fact, suck ass.

Is it worth the risk? I just don’t know.

Look for me between the cushions, where it’s safe

I like to fall asleep on the sofa. It seems I always have.

My first memories of sleeping on the sofa are from when I was around 9 or 10. My parents made the unfortunate choice of taking me with them to see The Amytiville Horror in the movie theatres. We lived in this giant, old colonial house at the time … that seemed to me to be not so very unlike the Amytiville Horror house … 

My bedroom was decorated with this crazy, flowery wallpaper.  In the dim light from my nightlight, I could make out hundreds of ghostly faces from the spiraling, yellowy-brown petals on the wall. I would lay awake for what seemed like hours,  unable to fall sleep. After enough time had passed, and I was sure they were asleep, I would creep into my parents room. I would lay down on their small, orange sofa that they kept there because it was too ugly to keep anywhere else.

And finally, I would fall asleep. 

In my early 20’s I started having panic attacks regularly. For a full year, I lived in a state of constant worry and unease – without ever really knowing what I was so fucking worried or uneasy about. I was barely old enough to drink legally, but I thought I must surely be dying. At night, I would lay awake in my room and listen to my heart pound in my ears. I could feel the beat in my temples, in my neck, in my whole body. The more I noticed the beat,  the faster and louder it became. My chest would tighten until it seemed there was no air left to breath, and I was smothering. I felt like screaming, I felt frozen in place.

Finally, I would get up …  just to prove that I still could.  I would go to the sofa and lay there, flipping on the television, flippin on the lights. As if that somehow mattered.

And finally, I would fall asleep. 

Every night now, I still fall asleep on my sofa. I don’t know why. It just seems like the natural thing to do. With all the lights still on. As if that somehow matters. But now Jon is there, every night, to wake me. He peels me off the sofa and we go off to bed, where I sleep every night …

feeling very safe and loved.

Angry tears

Whenever I get really, really, angry … I start crying.

I hate it.

There I am, all full of fury and indignation, and all I want is to melt the object of that fury with the hot heat coming out of my eyes. But, when I go to speak … there’s that crack in my voice.

And then the sniffles.

And before I can get all the way through whatever biting accusation I’m working on at the time, those full-fledged, heaving tears have started.

And the effect is ruined.

And the person who was supposed to be squirming from shame is instead looking at me, concerned. Moving into comfort mode. And that just pisses me off more!

So I cry even harder!

And so nobody ever really gets how truly fierce I am …

I hate it.

The puddle that wasn’t a puddle

Last Friday, we had a bit of rain. And sleet. More than bit, really. You might even say that it rained and/or sleeted all damn day, when it comes down to it. I had to go out in the afternoon for a meeting at an Elementary school.

On the way to the school, I did pass through a few puddles. Some even seemed a little on the deep side, but still definitely puddles. When I got to the school, I noticed a puddle in the drive way, but it looked like all the rest of the puddles, so I drove in anyway.

And I found out that it wasn’t a puddle at all. It was a fucking pond. And my Mini is not at all like a boat. Before I could even try to back out, the engine died, and my car was stuck in the water, which came past my ankle. Icy cold water, I might add.

So, once again, I am without my car and stuck with a rental. Except this time, it’s my insurance that has to foot the bill. $1400! And that’s only so far! Who knows what it will be when it’s all over and done with.

I hate puddles

I can’t stand standing still.

I’ve been in a funk lately, and I can’t shake it off. I thought that once I got my tests out of the way, I would feel better–but finishing those just freed me up to focus on everything else that I still have left to do. My life stands on the brink of a major change … which is just where I like it.

I am always looking forward to the next job, the next house, the next city.

I am so close now…  I am checking out more and more every day from my present. My focus is forward. I tie myself up in knots going over and over all of the details, until I build them up as this mountain before me, blocking my way. At the moment, I’m too busy raging at the foot of it … I need to just take a deep breath, and start making my way over it.

I feel stuck, when what I need is to keep moving on. I’m only happy when I’m moving. I can’t stand standing still.

Because it’s me

And here I am again.

It was back in November that I signed up to take my MTELs.

November.

In a couple of days, it’s going to be March… You might think to yourself that November to March is plenty of time to prepare for a couple of little tests.

I can see how you might think that… It’s reasonable.

But–because it’s me–it doesn’t really matter that I’ve given myself 3 months. It wouldn’t have mattered  if it had been 6 months … or 9 months … or 9 years, for that matter.

Because it’s me,  my 3 months of prep time that I have very reasonably given myself has been transformed into 2  and 1/2 months of putting it off time, one week of adjusting to reality time and now, finally, one week of prep time.

I have just this one last week to prep for the tests that are going to allow me to change my life.

Because it’s me.

Rental car blues

So, Mini is in the shop being re-beautified after being rear-ended a couple of weeks ago, and I’m stuck in a rental for the next several days.

Bah! I hate rental cars!

Nothing is ever in the right place and my foot keeps going for that goddamn clutch that is just never there!

If that’s not bad enough, they gave me a Kia.

Actually, they gave me a choice between a Kia and some Chevrolet PT Cruiser wannabe. I hate the PT Cruiser with a fiery passion, and cannot abide any car that tries to copy it. So…I took the Kia, which at least can claim it’s own form of suck.

And it does suck. And it’s ugly. And I hate it.

Get well soon little Mini

Stuck in Smunday

I have this notion that what I do this week could matter …

Not to you, of course…  I’m not that important.

But what I do this week could matter very much to me.

I have so much to do, and I have decisions I need to make, and I need to focus, focus, focus.

Instead?

I have spent my morning tinkering with my blogroll, getting my daily dose of cute, and testing the speed of my brain.

The fact that it’s a holiday isn’t helping. It should help, because it means I have more time. But it’s not helping … it’s hurting. 

I keep thinking it’s Sunday.

If it were Sunday, I would have one last day to devote to my little nothings.

But it’s not, and I don’t.

I have a lot of somethings waiting. 

I need to focus …

Bibliomatic: The Democratic Primaries Edition

Over the past month or so, the announcements have been flying fast and furious. Everybody’s running for President in 2008! How the hell are we supposed to pick between everybody? There’s too many of them …

So, I thought I would do another edition of Bibliomatic, to help get some insight into these many, many Democratic candidates who I’m going to be seeing way too much over the next year.

Today’s muse is going to be Wittgenstein’s Nephew by Thomas Bernhard. Bernhard had some good insights into the human condition, and I thought he might be a good source for my questions.

So, Thomas, let’s dive into these candidates, shall we? The front-runner, of course, is Senator Hillary Clinton. A lot of people love her, but just as many hate her. How do you see her faring in this primary season?

Thomas says: While a person is sick, the healthy shun him and cast him off, in obedience to their instinct for self-preservation.

I see. So, you think that, in the end, Democrats won’t vote for someone who might hurt their chances in the general election? That’s what I was thinking too …

What about our new super-star candidate, Barack Obama? He’s certainly very bright, and charismatic, but he doesn’t have an awful lot of experience to bring to the table. What do you think of his chances?

Thomas says: He was so different than anyone I had ever met, so new to my experience, (and with a name, moreover, that for decades I had revered like no other), that I at once felt him to be my deliverer.

Really? you too? I guess Obama fever reaches even beyond the grave. I like him too, but I’m still a little concerned about his inexperience. I guess we’ll have to see how he does over the next year. He does have a fun name, I’ll give you that. A lot of people think his name could actually hurt him if he runs for President. Me? I just think about how much fun it will be to say.

And the search marches on

After all this time, they are still coming …

Almost every day brings another one, and some days there are many. They arrive here at my blog looking for the biggest … the biggest in town! the biggest in the world! barbara bush’s big ones!

I’m talking, of course, about those biggest nipple searchers who keep hitting my blog. I used to think that I must be really high on the search engine results for “biggest nipple” to bring in such a regular flow of pilgrims. But, this morning, I finally tried the search myself on Google, and guess what? I’m not even on the first two pages of hits! (Note: I gave up scanning after 2, so it could very well be a much larger number of pages that I’m not even on)

So I now realize for the first time how truly dedicated these searchers are. They are intent, apparently,  on finding  only the actual biggest nipples out there … they are not just going to take anyone’s word for it … they are going to search every single site with a claim to biggest nipples, and they will decide for themselves!

I wish you luck, nipple searchers. May you all find the biggest.

The biggest nipples in the world.