Fifteen-ish Books

Not my rules:

"Don't take too long to think about it. Fifteen books you've read that changed your life and/or will always stick with you. First fifteen you can recall in no more than 15 minutes. Go!"

1. Moby-Dick - Herman Melville
2. The Member of the Wedding - Carson McCullers
3. Guess How Much I Love You - Sam McBratney (Author), Anita Jeram (Illustrator)
4. The Mixquiahuala Letters - Ana Castillo
5. Invisible Man - Ralph Ellison
6. Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
7. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
8. Silas Marner - George Elliot
9. The Bluest Eye - Toni Morrison
10. The Red Pony - John Steinbeck
11. Where the Red Fern Grows - Wilson Rowls
12. Mystifying Movies - Noel Carroll
13. Asperger Syndrome and the Elementary School Experience - Susan Thompson Moore
14. Animals in Translation - Temple Grandin and Catherine Johnson
15. Call of the Wild - Jack London
    
    Extra bonus books:


16. Pardon Me, You're Stepping on My Eyeball! - Paul Zindell
17. All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten - Robert Fulghum
18. Wuthering Heights - Emily Brontë
19. Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
20. Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
    
    Extra extra bonus book:
    
    
21. Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret - Judy Blume

These Kids Today

If you were in my house this morning, you may have overheard a conversation that I never thought I'd be having. Or at least, I never thought it would go this way.

The scenario, my daughter tells me that she just caught her 13-year-old brother digging a shirt out of the dirty clothes to wear to school (his older brother's shirt from the previous day). So I march into Malachi's room knowing full-well that I'd seen several clean shirts he could wear, sitting in a laundry basket still.

Me: "What are you doing wearing that? It's dirty! And these are clean!"

Malachi: "Those don't fit or are stupid, I'm not wearing those."

Me, picking up a "cool" red shirt for him (see pic): "Here, look. Put this one on..."

Malachi: "No way! Those guys are like 50 years old!"

Me, suddenly realizing they are that age, still trying to sell it: "No... well, okay, yes... but they weren't old when this came out. And they're still very cool today!"

Malachi: "No one's heard of them in my school. I'd rather wear this one."

Then he proceeded to put on a blue shirt that is probably 2 sizes too small for him, that I have no clue where it came, and I think may even have had sailboats on it.

When did this happen? When did our stuff stop being cool?

*sigh*

Chemistry

I just realized that I've been staring at this blank screen for the better part of an hour.

Hello-o-o-o?

Echo-echo-echo-echo!

*blows dust off blog*

Um, hi. Remember me? I used to spend a lot of time around here, sharing my musings and rants and whatnots. Lots of people used to do it. I think it was called "blogging."

At some point during the previous year, blogs became passe and out of fashion. Unfortunately for those of you who enjoyed my ramblings, I seem to have fallen out of love with blogging before that.

Oh sure, there'd been talk of compiling a book... and I was dead serious, too. But along the way, something happened. Something good. I believe it was Aristotle who said, "You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both, and there you have... the facts of life... the facts of life."

The good for me was finding love. The bad, from the blog's perspective, was me finding love. It's one thing to write any crazy thing that comes to your mind when you're single. It's a completely different animal when you're part of a couple. Suddenly, you're accountable to another person's feelings... a person who doesn't necessarily think that all that crazy crap rolling around in your head is fit for mass consumption... and especially if any of it may involve or reflect upon said other person. This might be more so the case when the other person is not of the creative type themself, although I can't be certain of that statement without comparison.

What I do know for certain, however, is that all of this accountability to another has left me at a loss for words in the most literal sense. I've become verbally constipated. Maybe it's like spending too much time in Chicago... all that meat and cheese binds you up. I swear, my bowels don't move for whole visits there, and not for days after my return. But I digress.

Crude allusions aside, all that otherness and emotional accountability can really wreak havoc on one's creative outlets. And in that year gone by without an outlet, I realize that I've been getting more and more complacent and downright squirrelly... neither of which are good for my relationship either! I'm also getting dumber. I can feel it happening little by little. Words and facts that used to come so effortlessly, now take aching amounts of time to inch down the pipes. (Not meant as another poo reference.)

What I need is a fresh look on a creative outlet. I've been doing some soul searching for a few weeks and haven't come up with a solution as yet -- mmm, painting? errrr, drawing? eh, writing? -- but I do keep finding myself returning to an old fantasy of mine: collaboration.

I've seen myself really shine with the right creative partner in the past and I miss that. Only a few times in my life has this truly happened... in art, in writing, and in music. I've not really had it happen in film yet, but I've seen glimpses of it there.

I'm putting it out there to the universe that I would like to find a true creative partner. This has nothing to do with my relationship, mind you. Creative couplings are much harder to navigate than creative partnerships. I just have a strong need to find someone who vibrates in the same harmonic scale as me... like a missing puzzle piece or lost twin. That person knows who they are, because he or she feels the same need in them.

Until then, I think I need to start writing again. We'll see how this goes...

25 Things

1. I posted something akin to this back in November on Facebook, got several people excited perhaps, then failed on the follow through to tell them things that I thought about them in time, before I completely lost the thread entirely here. I apologize everyone.


2. When I make a sandwich for myself, I can never have the condiments touch the cheese. The cheese can touch the meat or the bread, but it cannot come into contact with any condiments. This is a strict policy of mine, but I make exceptions when other people make me a sandwich just to be polite.


3. I always let politeness trump my own comfort. I can admire those of you who speak up for yourself... some of you are probably labeled as "high maintenance" by those who know you as a result. I, however, am terribly shy and completely anti-confrontational, and most people have no clue just how much things bother me, because I don't believe in dumping my issues on them.


4. I didn't get married until five months after my third child was born. Some would call this putting the cart before the horse, or back-assward, perhaps. I just didn't see the point until then, I guess. I also didn't change my name at the time, because I didn't want to become just another "Jones" on the planet. Good thing, since we divorced just two years later.


5. I can't stand crowds. At one time, this phobia of mine had gotten so bad (without me realizing it) that when I tried to meet friends for lunch at a restaurant and found it crowded, I couldn't eat or swallow anything. I overcame that phobia by forcing myself to go out to eat as often as possible at various times of the day. I'm okay now, but I still generally hate crowds.


6. As a result of my crowd loathing, I also hate crowded elevators. I have broken out into complete but invisible (thanks to my fear of making scenes or being a bother to anyone) panic attacks while stuck at the back of elevators too many times. This is something that I can't seem to overcome. It's not the confined space that scares me. It's the fact that one of the people in the elevator might go nuts and kill us all that scares me.


7. I don't trust anyone completely. You'd never know it, because I'm so polite and all, but the secret is out now. Just accept it and move on.


8. While we're on this path, do not make me the center of attention EVER. Just don't, okay!


9. In a fun twist, I've always been drawn to extroverts, like my boyfriend, for instance, who incidentally is sitting next to me right now and offering to come up with my list of 25 things for me while insisting that I only write nice things about him in this list... the list that is supposed to be about me. (Yes, that was my direct attempt at appeasing his wish that everything should be about him.)


10. I used to be a pinball whiz kid and had the capabilities of becoming a total pool shark, all when I was too short to see over either table. I don't mean this in the "I used to be pretty good at pinball" sort of way... I mean I couldn't lose and could rack up points in a way that they make rock operas about. I don't know what happened to those abilities, but they don't seem to exist anymore. I've never lost a game of chess, if that still counts.


11. I am a trained artist... went to art school and everything... but you'd never know it today. I still have a great eye, however.


12. I rescue animals to a degree that would be considered pathological by some. If I had the money and the space, I'd have my own shelter. I can't stand it when people do not spay/neuter their pets and animal abuse of any kind can throw me into a violent rage... and I'm a pacifist.


13. While I'm labeling myself, I guess I should say that I'm also basically a Socialist... a Progressive Socialist is more like it. It's okay if you call me names like "Liberal" or "Pinko" or try to make fun of me for these values, but you'll never convert me, so don't even try. As a matter of fact, don't try to convert me to any of your personal preferences. I've been this way my whole life, despite being raised by one highly conservative parent and one totally apolitical parent.


14. I'm a recovering blogger. My blog still exists, because I wrote it for about 4 years, but I really don't post anymore. This is perhaps the closest thing I've done to that in many, many moons.


15. As a video editor, I have edited porn. It seems so passé now, with all that you can find on the internet, but there you have it.


16. A few years ago, I studied to develop my psychic abilities just to see if I could, and got some very interesting results. Then I totally stopped and haven't messed with any of that since.


17. My nose has been broken 3 times, all due to my incredible clumsiness. I've broken my toes 3 times as well... same reason.


18. I'm terrified of spiders and must secrete something appealing that draws them to me no matter where I am.


19. Dogs, babies and old people love me. Perhaps it's the same spider-perfume that attracts them, too? I don't mind the babies and old people as much as the spiders. And I love dogs, so that suits me just fine.


20. I have a total black thumb. Do not ask me to take care of your prized plants for more than a week or you'll find out the truth. I happen to have two lucky bamboo plants in my kitchen that I've had for a couple years now, but they don't have any luck to offer me, because they're using it all just to keep alive themselves.


21. I like big butts (and I cannot lie)... specifically, I'm talking about horses with big butts. I used to make my parents take me to see the Clydesdales at the Budweiser brewing plant all the time when we lived in New England. They usually obliged... perhaps it was all the free beer that was the incentive, however, rather than my pure glee.


22. I love the free-fall sensation, which is another reason that I know it's not the elevator itself that scares me. If I have a chance to ride a roller coaster or any big drop type of ride, I'm there.


23. Conversely, I'm still a little scared of escalators. This comes from when I fell down a flight of metal-rimmed stairs at my grandmother's house as a wee child, I think. But to this day, if you're watching closely you'll notice me do this hesitant little two-step thing before I step on any moving escalator. I thought that I had it under control, but I've been spotted doing this twice in recent years, so I guess I need to work on that.


24. I absolutely love the smell of magic markers, movie theater popcorn, and puppy breath.


25. I hate the taste of licorice, Brussels sprouts, and lamb.

Lucky Day

So about 4 weeks ago, P and I went to see Tom Waits at the Fox Theatre here in Atlanta.

Yeah, I know... how did I not blog about this already? I intended to, honest. Better late than never, right?

And just to prove that good things do come to those who wait, NPR's All Songs Considered posted the whole concert. Yes, that's right. THE.WHOLE.FRICKIN.THING. All 2.5 amazing hours of it... every note... every whimsical story interlude... every cheer... every everything. It was also the last show of the US leg of his GLITTER AND DOOM tour and featured songs he's never performed live anywhere ever... not to mention that both of his sons accompanied him, which was very cool to witness, too.

Here's a quick wrap up of how we commemorated the occasion... the occasion of Tom Waits playing for our 6 month anniversary, that is. Yes, that's why he was here. Do not ruin my fantasy.

1. We got up early to start the day, trying not to be too decked out, because we didn't want to be one of those people, and because we were going to be trekking all around town on a humid July day.

2. Our first stop: the Midtown Art Cinema for a screening of THE ANIMATION SHOW. No sooner had I stepped out of the car, but a strap broke on my brand new heavy (not to be confused with the band) sandals that were reminiscent of the monsters that tried to kill me on my birthday, leaving me dragging one shoe as I walked.

3. Following the animated shorts, some of our plans had to be postponed while we went on a hunt for any kind of functional footwear at all... finding instead nothing but crap and chaos in the discount stores and then settling on an old pair of Chinese slip-ons that I've kept "in case of emergency" in my glove compartment for nearly 20 years -- thus justifying their existence at long last.

4. Next stop... well... it was raining and we were headed to a concert, so naturally we went to the cemetery. Historic Oakland Cemetery, of course, because P had never been. It was a dual purpose visit, serving as a quirky photo-op and as a voyeuristic excursion to see firsthand the destruction left by the freak tornado that ripped through downtown Atlanta back in March.

5. We left the cemetery and headed through downtown to make our way uptown to Ikea at Atlantic Station. There isn't any Tom Waits significance to an Ikea visit, unless Tom loves Swedish meatballs... let's just pretend he does. But on the way there, we were jarred awake by a car full of Armenians who wanted to make a left turn from several lanes too far over. They instead made a left turn into my van. It was still drivable and the police report went smoothly, but it did leave me pretty shaken for the rest of the day... and my poor passenger front door now makes a sound that... well, only Tom Waits can make, ironically.

6. And finally, on to the show. We had to wait an extra hour for Mr. Waits to take the stage, because apparently he was waiting for everyone to get there. No joke... it's what the announcer said. I ask you, who does that? I wonder if we'd been running late and called ahead, if he would've held the show for us. I'm going to imagine he would, because it's still my fantasy. Other than that, it was everything I imagined it would be and more... as many times as I've heard his voice in the 30 years that I've loved listening to him, I don't think it ever prepared me for the real thing live. It vibrates right down to your very core and you can feel every last gravely grumble in your skull. Go have a listen and try to imagine that, why don't ya.

One Giant Leap...

Is this the big blog you've all been waiting for?

No, it's bigger than anything a blog could contain.

Today is our 6 month anniversary... Paul and I, of course... not this blog and I, that would be silly... especially since this blog and I have been together for about 4 years now.

But I digress.

It's also bigger than just that mile-marker announcement alone. You see, this weekend also marks the moment that he and I made the decision to do something that I haven't done at all this century.

P HAS MOVED IN WITH ME.

Although we've steadily been edging our way towards this inevitability, a big event occurred this past week that heralded the day sooner and in a more exciting way than either of us expected.

No, I'm not pregnant.

P walked out of his job last Monday. It's a story that he can and should tell in better detail and glory than I'll relate here... but the gist is, after many miserable months working under a couple of unbalanced bosses, he had enough and walked out.

But before you start asking how he'll manage, like a cat landing on his feet or bread landing butter-side down, in less than an hour he had a new job to start the very next day!

The best part: that job is on my side of town!!!

So for the past week, he's been living here every day. It's been awesome, but I won't sugar-coat the story. After the kids left for the weekend, we had to both blow off some steam at one another and throw a couple of tantrums, express some of our fears, then talk those out. What we both learned is that the only thing important is that we stay together... everything else is negotiable.

Today, we went back to his apartment and cleaned up a bit. He won't be officially moved out of his place until the end of July (necessary 30 days notice, and all that), but we're living together at my house already. You know what else?

I like it, despite the fact that I wasn't sure how I'd ever make the transition since I've managed to live without any other adult companion for the last 8 years. To be exact, my ex-husband moved out at the end of October 1999... so it's actually been 8 years and 8 months to the letter. I realize now that my bad marriage and a few other unfortunate circumstances left me quite skittish and unwilling to open myself up to anyone for all this time. I thought it was me... that I was unfit for close relationships... but now I realize that it just needed to be the right person.

Wait... number coincidences are jumping out at me. It's been 8 years and 8 months alone... and we're in the year 2008, no less. Hmm... that's very peculiar, because 8+8 is my favorite "magical" number (16)... and 8+8+8 is the day of the month that P was born (10/24)... and 24 also equals my birth day and month added together (12/12)... AAAAAAND the 24th was also last Tuesday, which just happens to be the day that Paul started his new job! Holy cow. You know what else those numbers prove?

I really am a huge dork for getting excited about math, that's what.

In all fairness to you curious readers, I haven't shared much about this relationship. And frankly, P was a little hurt by this fact at first... until I explained to him that the reason I haven't written much about him isn't because I'm not inspired, but because this relationship is different than all the others. It's... well... sacred, really. Even now, I really can't put it into words, because the connection is so strong. As he said to me tonight, "We fell in love with each other the day we met."

It's true.

That Girl!

That girl wishes the paparazzi would leave her and Britney alone!





That girl... well, we don’t talk about her anymore.





That girl had a life-altering moment at Lillith Fair.





That girl is a little too excited to see Billy Ray Cyrus back on the music scene again.





That girl dated Bill Plympton, but she dumped him because he got obsessed.





That girl loves kittens, balloon rides, tapioca pudding, and Meg Ryan movies.