Hey there, Delilah!

So this is Delilah.  She is a 2011 Subaru Forester 2.5X Limited…and I bought her.  And I love her.

With big purchases, though, comes a sickness.  It’s not an addiction to new things, or better things.  It’s a sickness that settles deep in your stomach, makes you wake up in the middle of the night with your heart pounding.  It makes you afraid.

Let me set up my situation for you…

I’m DAMN lucky to have this job.  And it’s a job I love and that I look forward to going to every day.  And it’s a job that pays me better than I EVER would have expected for my first real job.  So understand, please, that I am stable here.

Now, I live alone in an apartment complex (not ideal, but good).  I have incredible parents that still pay my cell bill (awesome, I know) and who happen to “want a newer model” of something so that they can give my brother or me the old one (so we don’t have to buy it).  Hence, my microwave…dishes…silverware…etc.

And I’m doing really well.

Now, Leon the Neon was dying quickly.  And she’s been a good car, but I’ve always resented her.  You see, my ex-boyfriend when I was 18 pushed me hard to get a Dodge…and only a Dodge…and he made it seem like he may not love me anymore if I did anything else.  First clue to run, right?  Nope.  I bought that Dodge–a Neon because it was the only thing I could afford.

But she had electrical problems (it’s still a she, even if her name was Leon), and the shifting was getting rough…and there was something with the radiator back in NC.  And she is 7 years old with 89,000 miles on her.  For the past three years, she’s been driven hard from Ohio to North Carolina to Pennsylvania and everywhere in between.  I couldn’t expect her to last much longer.

So after a GREAT Thanksgiving with Mike and my family, I bought Delilah on Black Friday (good sales across the board!) and Mike and I went to the Browns game on Sunday.

In fact, here we are.  And we had a blast.  My company CEO is kind enough to have 8 season tickets in the Dawg Pound for Cleveland Browns home games, and I got to take Mike.  We sat with co-workers and had a great time.

And I have to tell you that the sickness set in soon after that.  In more ways than one.  First off, I felt feverish as hell, so we stopped and bought some Motrin and Vitamin C.

Second, I looked at my student loan bills.  BIG mistake.  They say you’re never prepared for anything financially unless you’re Bruce Willis.

And no matter how many times my mother so kindly breaks down my monthly earnings as opposed to my monthly bills for me, my stomach still flipflops.  I can say 100 times that I wouldn’t have bought Delilah if I’d thought this through, but that’s a lie.  For the next 20 years, my student loans own my soul.  And Leon wouldn’t have lasted 20 years.

So this Cyber Monday after Thanksgiving, I am thankful that I have a job that allows me to pay said student loans, live on my own, and drive my dream car.  And I am thankful that I have a CEO who hands out Browns tickets like they’re candy.  For my Columbia jacket which kept me SUPER warm.  For my Dad who scares car salesmen into giving me the right price.  For my mom who will run the numbers as many times as I need her to in order to kill the feeling in my stomach.  For Mike, who hasn’t killed me yet, and who got me Motrin.  To all of you.  I love you.

 

Obsession Part 2

I said adults should make a point to be more obsessed with things.

 

I choose owls.

 

Drunksgiving

Is this a foreign concept to everyone outside of Fremont, Ohio?

Every Wednesday before Thanksgiving, it is tradition to go to the bar–the Depot to be more specific.  And we call it Drunksgiving.

Everyone is home, you know?  Everyone you went to high school and junior high and elementary school with.  They’re all home.  And they’re all at the Depot, and they’re all drunk and in good spirits.  It’s a great time.  When you don’t live in your hometown anymore, it’s nice to be able to go to one place–one crowded, sweaty, smokey, wonderful place–and see the people you haven’t seen all year.

It’s nice to catch up.  But you always run the risk of seeing someone you really didn’t want to see.

Let’s just hope that happens AFTER you’ve had a few.

Happy Drunksgiving, everyone!

 

Obsession: The Lost Art

‘Like OMG, the BSB were on the AMAs and OMG DID YOU SEE THEM!?”

At one point, I would have spoken like this and not thought a thing about it.

It seems that obsession is expected of you when you’re in junior high and high school.  But once you graduate, damnit, the only thing you better be obsessed about is being an adult.  I think that’s crap.

Don’t you remember the complete and utter joy of having something you loved so much?  I don’t remember EVER being bored as long as the Backstreet Boys were around.  I spent time between classes writing stories in a weathered notebook to my friend, Caitie (who was also obsessed).  We watched TRL on the phone together every day after school so we could see if the Backstreet Boys had come in at #1 to pound their rival N*Sync into the ground.  My walls were plastered.  I spent thousands in junk I’ll never use again.

But I had fun.

Now it seems that the only thing you can get obsessed with is sports…which I understand.  But it’s the same concept.  You have something to look forward to, to talk to people about at the water cooler, to rejoice in and to mourn.  It’s something to preoccupy you that you enjoy.  We just don’t have that anymore.

This is why I still get silly and obsess over things.  I miss that joy.  I miss collecting things.  I miss looking forward to seeing the BSB on TV, or that rush I felt when Caitie and I first bought tickets to a show.

And to be able to trick yourself into thinking that someday, you’d actually meet Nick and Brian, and that they would fall madly in love with you, and that they’d whisk you away to Florida or Kentucky and give you the life you always dreamt about.

Maybe it’s because we lose our innocence.  But isn’t it still fun to dream?  I think adults ought to make a point to be obsessed with more things.  I really do.

 

A Domestic Interlude: Ain’t I a Woman?

I may not be a domestic goddess, but I am a woman.  I am a woman who wants to get married.  And I am a woman wants to start having children yesterday.

I’m in a tough place right now.  My senior year of undergrad (2006-2007) and the summer after, all my girlfriends that I graduated with got engaged.  And I went to grad school.  Now, I was happy for them.  I knew that there were going to be nights of bridesmaid dresses and bubbling champagne.  I knew that there was going to be dancing, and that we’d all get to get together and party like we did when we first met.  Weddings were like mini-college reunions, and I looked forward to them.

Aimee married Chris.  Kay married Matt.  Rachel married Matt (different Matt, don’t worry).  Barbs married Robert.

I won’t lie.  I was jealous.  I love them all to death, and I am incredibly happy that they are happy.  But there’s something in me that is primitively jealous.

During my undergrad, we picked up a couple extra girls in our group; they are two years younger, and graduated in 2009.  My lovely little freshmen (as they will always be called) are both in pretty serious relationships.  Heidi will probably be engaged around Christmas.  Jessica’s boyfriend has already asked her father’s permission, and she is researching reception halls.

And my jealousy returns, but this time with a tinge of embarrassment.  I’m two years older…about to turn 26…  The first round of my friends are celebrating their second and third anniversaries.  My second round of friends are getting ready to be married.  And the babies are coming, by the dozen, and they invade the photo page of my Facebook…

And me?  I am living in Brunswick, doing my job (which I still freaking love by the way), and thinking about buying a new car.

What am I doing wrong?  Why hasn’t this happened yet?

And I have to be a little grateful that it hasn’t…because anyone before Mike would have made for a disastrous husband for me(sorry if any of you read this).  Mike is incredible.  🙂  Maybe that’s why I haven’t gotten there yet.  I was waiting to find him.

 

Gambling?

Tonight I switched purses. And I think it must be no coincidence that a $5 poker chip fell out when it did…

Am I gambling?

 

Guilt-Free 3

Day # Whatever:  Who is in your Guilt-Free 3?

I first heard about this concept from John and Hank Green, the VlogBrothers on Youtube.   Watch this before you go any further…

Besides the facts that Helen Hunt is amazing, Hank did an entire song avoiding the C-word that rhymes with Hunt, and the song gets stuck in my head for days, there is an incredible concept brought to the table.

The Guilt-Free 3

First off, what the hell is it?  The Guilt-Free 3 is a group of three celebrities (in any realm) that you may have a purely physical encounter with and your significant other must forgive you.

I’ll tell you, first, who is in my Guilt-Free 3, and then explain the intricate details of how the situation works (it will be rated PG, you sickos.)

Currently, my Guilt-Free 3 includes:

Josh Holloway–more commonly known as Sawyer from LOST.

Geoff Stults–October Road and the short-lived Happy Town.

Travis Fimmel–CK model…and in a WB show called Tarzan for a minute.

I do not feel the need to explain my attraction to these men.  But today, these are my Guilt-Free 3.

Now for the example:  If I happen to run into Josh Holloway, whether it be on an island, or his car happens to break down in front of my apartment, and his cell phone is dead, and I just happen to be walking by, I am entitled to do whatever I want with him…as long as I don’t get emotionally involved.  The beauty of the Guilt-Free 3 is that there is no guilt.  So you can have a primal encounter with these men, and not feel bad about it.

And Mike would have to forgive me.

 

So I ask you now.  Who is in your Guilt-Free 3?

 

 

“Use me and I’ll set you on fire, bastard.”

To keep with the media favorites theme for another day, I thought I’d talk about my favorite TV show.

I used to jump around a lot on this.  Currently, I enjoy Parenthood and The Middle.  I love Modern Family and Raising Hope.  But these aren’t classics yet in my mind.  I absolutely LOVED October Road, but that lasted all of what, two seasons?

Besides Raising Hope, the majority of the shows that I like are shows that most closely represent real life.  Real people.  Real situations.  Without being reality TV, because reality TV is so far from the truth, that it’s not worth watching anymore.  I’ve begun grouping Reality TV with Anime; they’re both so fake.

In writing, they say that fiction is supposed to come as close to real life as possible.  But if you’re writing nonfiction, no one wants to hear an everyday story, which is why we get all the memoirs about drug addicts and sex fiends and blah blah blah.  Maybe we’ve distorted our television based on this principal, because reality TV is ridiculous and wild…and the classic, good shows are the ones that have more truth than what we deem to be reality.

Parenthood, The Middle, and Modern Family are great right now.  But they’re too new to rely on yet.  I relied heavily on October Road, but that disappeared pretty quickly.  So what show stands the test of time?

ROSEANNE

Seriously…does it get more real than this?  What television mother told it like it was more than Roseanne?  Whose house looked the most realistic?  Who actually struggled to pay the bills sometimes?

And who was funnier? 

Roseanne: (to Crystal who’s been passing out things from her company, Cindy Lou Cosmetics) Whad’ya bring me?
Crystal: bath beads, made with real milk
Roseanne: Well great, then when I’m soaking and I get hungry, I’ll just add some Cheerios.

Or what about this one?

---

 

Roseanne Conner: Remember the Beatles had that song, “Run for your life” by the Beatles? Where the guy says he’d rather see her dead than with another guy. That’s all them wife beaters need is an anthem.

Roseanne Conner: Remember the song where the guy says ‘don’t get hooked on me? I’ll use you and set you free’? Use me and I’ll set you on fire, bastard.
And I’m not saying that my family is anything like the Conners, but there are distinct similarities.

Growing up in a small town in the Midwest.

Daddy worked blue collar.

Annoying little brother.

Aunts who were always around.

Never had a pet.

All I’m saying is that Roseanne is a classic, and it shouldn’t be looked over.

 

Today’s Playlist

Today we’re doing favorites, as I am deviating away from the serious questions, to be revisited at a later time.

Today we will address my favorite song.

Favorite Song: How can you ask someone to pick one favorite song?  Of course it changes as new songs come out, as old ones are overplayed, and as you listen to something so many times you can’t remember why you liked it to begin with.  It’s kind of like say any one word over and over again.  It begins to lose its meaning.  So contrary to popular belief, I think a favorite song should be one that you don’t get to hear very often.  And because this day in age, it is ridiculous to ask someone to pick one favorite song, I am going to do an assignment that I made my creative writing classes do when I was teaching at the University of North Carolina Wilmington.  Define criteria for favorite songs, and list 5-10 of them, explaining why each is important and fits into the list.

Criteria: A song that makes me feel something today.  That is all.  In no specific order:

1)  “Walking in Memphis” by Marc Cohn:  I can’t help it.  Goosebumps every time.  And I don’t even care about Elvis.

They’ve got catfish on the table
They’ve got gospel in the air
And Reverend Green be glad to see you
When you haven’t got a prayer
But boy you’ve got a prayer in Memphis

Now Muriel plays piano
Every Friday at the Hollywood
And they brought me down to see her
And they asked me if I would —
Do a little number
And I sang with all my might
And she said —
“Tell me are you a Christian child?”
And I said “Ma’am I am tonight”

I don’t know if it’s how Cohn sings it, or if it’s the idea that you’ve got a prayer at this very second, or that a place can make you feel like a Christian even if you aren’t.  It’s such an incredible sensation when I hear it…like I can’t be bothered to understand anything else but what it is to feel.  It’s primal and sophisticated all at the same time.

2)  “All Right Now” by Free:  Put it on in the car and drive.  And then I dare you not to smile.  Sometimes you just need carefree music, and this is that song.

I said, “A-hey, what’s your name, baby?
Maybe we can see things the same
Now don’t you wait or hesitate
Let’s move before they raise the parking rate.”

People will flirt forever.  And prices will always go up.  And who doesn’t love the word “A-hey”?

3)  “Never Say Goodbye” by Bon Jovi:  If you know anything about me, you knew that Bon Jovi would have a song on this list.  I tried to stay away from the super popular songs (I could have easily listed “Living on a Prayer” or “Wanted Dead or Alive”), but there’s something so reminiscent about “Never Say Goodbye”.  It’s cheesy in the best of ways.

Remember days of skipping school
Racing cars and being cool
With a six pack and the radio
We didn’t need no place to go

Remember at the prom that night
You and me we had a fight
But the band they played our favorite song
And I held you in my arms so strong

We danced so close
We danced so slow
And I swore I’d never let you go
Together – forever.

Growing up is for the birds.

4)  “Hallelujah” by Jeff Buckley:  It’s almost too good to not list every lyric.  It’s haunting.  And it’s lovely and wonderful and scary.  It’s faith, sex, love, history, everything.

hallelujah…

baby i’ve been here before
i’ve seen this room and i’ve walked this floor
i used to live alone before i knew you
i’ve seen your flag on the marble arch
but love is not a victory march
it’s a cold and it’s a broken hallelujah

hallelujah…

5)  “Alabama” by Cross Canadian Ragweed:  It’s all about longing and loving.  And knowing.  It’s crazy how you feel as a kid…and how you can still remember it as an adult.  Plus, as much as we try as human beings, we never tie up all those loose ends.  And we always end up somewhere we’ve been before in some way or another.

She said maybe I miss your lovin’
Maybe I miss your kiss just a little bit
Maybe I miss your body lyin’ right next to mine
Maybe I miss your touch a little too much

Tossing and turning her skins still burning
From the fire in his hands
Runnin’ on empty she needs somebody

…

They talked about Savannah
Sweet home Alabama
And how he missed the way she always smiled
Are you coming back soon
By the Harvest moon
If I have to walk every mile on my knees

Hope you enjoyed.  I’d love to hear your feedback.  What songs do you listen to over and over again?  Which are novelties?  What are your top 5 today?

 

Playing the Blame Game: Jury Duty

Day 06 → Something you hope you never have to do.

This is exceptionally tough.  Something I hope I never have to do?  There are a million things.

I hope I never have to bury my children.

I hope I never have to witness a murder.

I hope I never have to serve on a jury…I think I can expand on this one.  I never want to decide someone’s fate.  I can decide where I want to go out to dinner, and what kind of wine I want.  I can choose to buy the red shirt over the blue one, and I can choose what I do on a daily basis.  But I hate hate hate when my decisions affect other people.  Because of this, I hope that I never have to serve on a jury.  I know it’s a fair and proven way to decide the fate of a case, but what if it’s something huge?  What if my vote sends someone to the electric chair?  What if my vote takes a daddy away from his kids?  I can’t have that weighing on my shoulders.  I don’t want to decide if someone is guilty.  And I don’t want to let a guilty person run innocently away from everything he has done without punishment.  It’s a rough place to be in.

When you’re little, you play the blame game.  You break Mom’s vase, blame it on your little brother.  Little brother gets his butt spanked and a time out for rough play.  Unjust.

But we fear punishment so much, that we’re willing to place blame on others.  Would the punishment be so bad?  Would we not, indeed, learn from it?

Part of this may stem from my belief that God is the one true judge.  There’s really no truth in earthly judgment.  It all depends on how God sees it.  I feel like I’m playing God if I judge.

Now don’t get me wrong.  I have my opinions.  I think certain things are wrong.  It pisses me off when kids are disrespectful to their parents.  I despise the little brats on Supernanny.  But I also see the mistakes the parents are making.  But who am I to deem them mistakes?  Every opinion I have is on the premise that my opinion matters only momentarily.  So when something as large and important as a court case happens, and I am involved in someone’s future, it freaks me out.

It could be like the OJ trial, where there are a billion different pieces of evidence, but unless you’re there, you’re not going to know the entire story.  There is always something missing.  And only the people involved and God know the something that is missing.

In a perfect world, we all take the blame for the wrongs we’ve done.  We decide we are guilty on our own terms, and accept pour punishment.  In a perfect world.

I’m starting to babble.  I don’t want to decide someone’s fate.  It’s not my place.  And we do NOT in fact, live in a perfect world.

Cheers!