Okay I know many of my vox peeps could give two bunks about football...but every once in awhile, I have to appease my inner sportscaster by sharing my sports thoughts. I apologize in advance. At least you know point number 5 still qualifies me as a bit of a trollop, as well as a sports junkie.
Cheers,
RPM
1. Being an Eagles fan this year is just not going to be an enjoyable experience. Especially being an Eagles fan in Texas.
2. Congratulations Philadelphia Phillies on your division title. I always thought Philly Phillies was a bit...redundant...but bring it on.
3. Giant's Defensive lineman Osi Umenyiora referred to his IV as, "superman juice." Considering how many times he had QB Donovan McNabb tasting turf, I guess I should keep my snark to myself.
4. Dear Dallas Fans: I know you're grinning and feeling good now...but trust me, Terrell is poison. Watch and wait. I realize saying this does not lessen the odds of you sneering and lambasting my team...but don't go embroidering those Superbowl jerseys just yet.
5. Dear Michael Strahan: While I want it on record that I loathe the Giants (as all Philadelphians do) and I also want it noted that I suspect your personal life is littered with more foolishness than a 14 year old slumber party, I could potentially sop you up with not one, but with two biscuits. But I never said I made sound dating decisions.
6. There's something Un-American about watching football in a house that rests at a nasty, sticky 85 degrees.
7. Dallas is four hours North. Houston, is two and a half hours East....how is it that Austin is such a Cowboys' town? And don't give me that America's team bullshit. Poor, poor Texans.
8. Damn the Green Bay Packers look good.
9. Hey ESPN...why'd you have to dis the potters? What'd we ever do to you?
10. Only thing sadder than the performance of my hometown birds this Sunday might have been LaDainian Tomlinson's stretch of postgame interviews to date.
I woke this morning and after feeding Mecca, I returned to the mirror and the bedroom and took a good look.
I didn't do what I normally would do, which would be to begin picking out each and every flaw I can find and wishing it wasn't there. Instead I actually admired the curve of my cheekbones, the shape of my lips, the alignment of my features, a face framed by unruly curls. And then I rested on my eyes, staring back at me.
A direct, strong and unwavering gaze. Not at all furtive. Not aversive...but without that twinkle of expectation. I saw the eyes of my mother when I was a child gazing into her face. Eyes of resignation and a gradual acceptance of things she wished she never knew. A filtered veneer that lets in just enough to keep her sustained, but little else. I studied those eyes, my eyes...my mother's eyes, and wondered if the world could see that quiet observation of everything moving around behind them.
I used to chase rainbows and grasp at butterflies without ever looking to check and see if my feet were on solid ground. While I miss that girl, I also know that this life brings many lessons that remind you of the importance of reaching up and staying grounded. These eyes are warm, but hazed. They are soft, but indifferent. They study...and watch...and hold safe the observations of everything moving around about them.
These are my mother's eyes and everything she held behind them. I understand. And now they are mine. I hope they lead me to a cool, dry place.
No matter what happens around you, to you, near you or within you...you must never forget who you are.
I've heard that theme so many times in my life, spoken in different ways by different folks. A parent, a wise old sage, that voice of wisdom in my head, a teacher, a grandparent, a therapist.
There seem to be moments when that just doesn't "feel" as easy as it sounds. There are so many times when life seems to be rolling just to demonstrate to you all the ways you aren't. Rarely any of the ways you are. But then, that's perspective isn't it?
Hardest thing about getting over grief, is acknowledging that no matter what you've lost, you have lost nothing that was critical to your well-being. Even if its something as precious to you as your own limb. You are still as whole as you ever were. You just have trouble spotting the physical proof.
Stuff is going to happen in this life that you won't ever be able to make sense of. But those things do not define who you are. YOU do. No event, no turn, no problem, no "thing" has the ability to alter or reshape that. There was a saying I heard once: You can slap a dress on a pig, but it's still a pig. I loved it because it was a tangible saying. These days I twist it. To remember who I am. And to recall that despite whatever may be going on in my life as "dressing"...I am...me.
And me? I don't think I'd trade for all the tea in china. Even with the bumps, scrapes and scratches I'm collecting along the way.
I highly suggest you never trade yourself, either.
People try
To pull the wool over your eyes
Don't know why
They want to profit from your demise
They lie
To cover up how weak they are inside, oh
Baby, baby don't you cry
All you got is your pride
I know you're down...
when you gonna get up?
So it's 5 am. And I am wide awake and writing. Here's why.
I had a That's So Raven moment this morning at 4:32am. If you have any history with me, you know I have had moments where I've "seen" things in my head either just before or after they've happened. Or...I just have a sense of something to come, but couldn't tell you why or how. The Disney show, That's So Raven is about a kid with "psychic powers" that sees events in the near future, by way of visions, kiddie comedy ensues as she either tries to upend the thing she doesn't want to happen, or she tries to rush that event along.
I woke up this morning with the number $-800.00 appearing in my banking debit account. Needless to say, it woke me with a jolt. I sat upright, immediately panicked. I sat there for a moment and thought..."come on, just a weird panicky dream...go back to sleep. Everything is fine." But the knot in my stomach immediately said, "No...it's not." So I got up and wandered down the hall to check my account balance if only to release the knot and return to sleep.
I log into my account? Balance? $-720.00. Why? Because the hotel I stayed in, charged my entire room and incidentals charges to my debit account, as opposed to billing my company card for the room, and my debit card for the incidentals. So instead of hitting my debit card for $12.95...they hit it for $646.73. And then, let the overdraft fee shuffle begin...
Hence, a balance of $-720. Needless to say, hotel accounting is going to be getting a very assertive call from me once they open for business.
And now back to try and get some more sleep. I shall dream of slaps.
I'm not sure if you are aware of this, but the word hiatus is derived from the Latin word hiat which generally means massive amounts of emotional fuckery.
Okay so I made that part up. Sue me. Wouldn't be the first time I've tried to bend the laws of words to suit my will. As you know, I was on the road last week. Turns out my spirit was on a little road trip as well. And I've been in a space that's unusual for me. A space that runs counter to my blissfully naked self. I've been in a space of silence. Or secrecy and a general licking of some tired, sad old wounds that were festering long before I met each of you.
Contrary to my snark...I love people. I love talking to them, experiencing them, laughing, loving and feeling every little bit of life with them. But from time to time, when I get stung really hard by the realities of life...that little fairy in me just...withers and dies. And as much as I love for my peeps to reach out to me in their time of need, I sometimes fail to recall that for most of them, that action is reciprocal and they expect me to do the same. I hide. In some cases, because I know some people aren't equipped to give me whole, healthy, good insight. In other cases, I hide in my own embarrasment or shame. I hide. And I begin to embrace that I am alone in this world and disconnected from things that bind us all together. And then I have nothing to give. And I assume there's nothing anyone could do, to bring me light.
I went to pottery class yesterday, wearing this veil of fuckery like a funeral shroud. I mumbled through hellos and gave my best interpretation of a smile. I sat before my favorite wheel, tuned the class out and promised myself that clay would eat up some of the hollow working to fill my belly. Four pounds of wasted clay, an aching back and forty five minutes later I had managed to mangle three pots, a bowl and a mug. Creativity 0, Darkness 5. I wandered into the office of the studio owner, sat in a chair and cried my huge, unwavering heart out. And I blubbered out onto the table some of the toxic waste I've been nursing in my belly...for years. And before I knew it...I was sitting in an office full of people each with their own life, their own story, their own hidden whatever...and clay was put aside to talk about something else.
Us. Life.
I'll be honest with you. I have a tendency to believe in fairy tales. And when I look around me with my own sense of child-like wonder...I want to believe that all is good, that we are safe, and loved and nothing will hurt us if we're bold enough and brave enough to put ourselves out here authentically in this world. So...when I see the lives and experiences of others, I see them as whole, perfect and clean and neat and good. But life and sometimes, people aren't whole, perfect and clean and neat and good. And more often then not, what you see on the surface...is only that pretty packaging that we all use to promote the best version of who we are. And frankly, many of us have no idea where life is taking us from one moment to the next. No one is more lost...or found than any other.
In the span this week I have heard stories that made me gasp. I was told truths that shattered my previous perceptions of the perfect lives I imagined I saw all about me. My fairy tale glasses tell me everyone else's story book lives are filled with all of these wondrous amazing things that have somehow managed to elude me. Instead what I hear is we're all on our own paths and we all get our share of potholes, road blocks, rabid dogs and fire hoses. Rarely is anything, ANYTHING...ever as it seems.
And that's one of the biggest truths there ever was.
1. There is nothing like sitting at a table with friends who amaze, inspire, amuse and accept you for precisely who and what you are. Thanks JT, Melle, Lainie and Cheryl for reminding me of all the things ridiculously awesome about the company I keep.
2. What is it about airports and travel that just seems to bring out the idiocy of people? Divas cussing out the security checkpoint line for not letting her cut in because she was "SO gonna miss her flight??" Shit sucks, I know it. But deal with it like the rest of us and stop channeling Paris Hilton. That is so not hawt.
3. Why is it, that whenever I take a notion to blog over the past week, a wave of sleepiness passes over me?
4. Sweet Lord is San Francisco chilly.
5. Donovan McNabb...while I might be able to go with you on the differential treatment and expectations of African American quarterbacks...I think it's HIGHLY suspect if you make mention of this in the throes of what might be your most unimpressive season start since we booed you on draft day. When I say 'we'...I mean Philadelphians. But hey...we booed Santa. Don't take it personal.
6. Benedryl sleep is the sweetest sleep. I don't care if it's killing brain cells. According to some, they clearly weren't being used anyway.
7. It's amazing that we covet what you believe other people have or don't have in their lives. The truth is...we're all marginally screwed up about something. The people who stand a chance are the ones who can at least admit that openly.
8. Why is acknowledgement of your feelings or any sort of validation from someone you know, love and trust soo immediately healing?
9.Can...barely...keep...eyes...open.
10 I was interviewed not once, but twice related to this event I'm attending in San Fran. Curious to see the finished products.
"Love's not a grave, it won't decay on you."
... - and if it does, it probably wasn't love in the first place.
You're the DJ: what are the next five songs coming up after the break?
I saw that Izola did this. And I wanted to as well. I just hit shuffle and play.
1. Into the Ocean - Blue October
2. Hey Jude - The Beatles
3. Now We Are Free - Hans Zimmer (from the movie Gladiator)
4. Before Today - Everything But The Girl
5. Deacon Blues - Steely Dan
Very um...odd rotation. Shuffle at your own risk.
Today's horoscope from Jeff Prince:
Do you really want to know what others think? You appear to be seeking opinions of others where a crucial decision lies. Now, if others give you their words of wisdom, what do you intend to do with them? Ah, that's what I thought. Don't encourage advice if your mind is already made up about something!
Yep. Yep. And yep. This could apply to me today, yesterday and everyday. I am a notorious "seeking consensus" decision maker. Well...actually, let me rephrase that. I'm a stubborn, strong willed and fiercely opinionated woman posing as a seeking consensus decision maker. Professionally I can disguise it well. I'm a good communicator, a good team builder and I can motivate people toward my point of view with some powerful persuasion and sound logic. I know that's largely because I'm very confident about my ability to make strong, intuitive and clearly promising business decisions. And I have a history that mostly confirms this.
Personally, I'm not nearly so steady. Perhaps it's because with personal choices I often feel like I have the potential to lose so much more. And yet, I am at the core of me, very passionate about what I think I should do. So...in critical decision making in my personal life, this is normally how it goes down. I seek opinions. I pour out my details to people within my inner circle. (I used to pour out my details to anyone with a pulse, but I'm learning over time to tell a precious small contingent any personal details about what's going on in my life). After sharing the event, the crisis, the problem or the situation, I wait for the other party to either agree with my assessment, or challenge it. Then I wait to see if what they suggest or advise is anything like what I'm thinking of doing. If there's an accord, I'm feeling good, smart, strong and pleased. If there isn't, I'm considering checking myself into a mental health facility and cursing the universe for my lack of clear cognitive skill. It's feast or famine with me, and I'm working on that. But here's where it gets interesting...
After I peel myself out of that self imposed straight jacket, I calm down. The knot unwinds and I quietly think to myself...
"It's not like that person's opinion is going to at all alter what I'm preparing to do. So why did I just fall out like that?"
Because that is the truth of it all. My mother would tell you, with great exasperation...I am going to do exactly what I want to do, once I'm passionate about my interpretation. So, when I ask for an opinion (or sometimes, when friendly cautionary advice is offered without solicitation)...I'll engage, but then quietly go off and do whatever it was simmering in my mind and heart at the start.
I have to.
If I don't...wondering what would have happened would consume me. Now I just need to work on accepting with grace the consequences of those choices when instead of reward you are granted a big lesson. Both are good. And necessary.
So yeah...um...I don't care what you think. I'm gonna do what I want to do. INow I just have to trust that I'm enough to guide my way down the path, once I've picked my path.
