Okay raise your hands if you watch LAW AND ORDER: SPECIAL VICTIMS UNIT. This is my fav of all the LAW AND ORDER options.
But it made me think...
You know how every time they have have a victim and they do a rape kit or during the postmortem Dr. Warner finds a hair in the vic's panties? They have to send the hair to the crime lab and usually it gives them some info on a possible perp, right?
Here's my fear... what if I die in some horrible way that a CSI team has to do analyze hair found in my underwear? And then it comes back as a dog hair?
I hope their thought isn't, "this chick was into kinky shit with her dog. Bestiality is wrong, man" (said like Det. Tutuola). I hope their thoughts are more like, "Oh, she has a dog and it sheds so the hair must've gotten in her underwear when she folded laundry while sitting on her couch while watching LAW AND ORDER: SVU."
This is the stuff I think about...
Maggie
Showing posts with label inside my head is a frightening place. Show all posts
Showing posts with label inside my head is a frightening place. Show all posts
Monday, October 6, 2014
Saturday, December 21, 2013
Think Kit Day 21: Repeat after me...
Think Kit Day 21: Write a mantra for the year ahead – how you'll approach it, what you wish it to be.
When I first read this prompt I had several thoughts at once, my ADD brain taking over and all my little voices in my head screaming something different at one time: "get a job" and "be better" and "don't sweat the small stuff." Just bam- bam- bam all these thoughts came to me at once.
Then I started typing and this post was going in a different direction and I started having "wait a minute" type of thoughts.
First, I have a job. I work part-time in a public school library. I'm in charge of the art club. I'm the prom sponsor. I run the Literary Club. I also work part-time every third weekend as a second shift receptionist. None of these things adds up to full time, and none of them offer health insurance. BUT I have a job. I should clarify: I want to find my career niche with a professional position that I would enjoy and could work at until I retire. I'd like for it to be full-time and offer health insurance and other benefits (401K, PTO time, dental/vision insurance among others). I need to stay positive and do a career search. I need someone who knows something about resume writing to help me (for free or at a very low cost) re-do or make it stronger. I need to broaden my search locations but narrow the field. I apply for anything and everything that may sound remotely interesting but not something that might become a career or have longevity. I need to have some focus and make better choices when it comes to applying for positions. (And I'd appreciate help if anyone wants to re-work my resume or would like to comb CareerBuilders and go ahead and apply for jobs for me, I'd be happy for the help!!!)
Second, "be better." This popped in my head and when I think about it... I don't even know what I meant. Be better at what? A better friend? Daughter? Mom? Employee? Girlfriend? Person? Listener? Empathizer? Whine less? Complain less? Be more positive? Less negative? Be more active? Hopeful? Observant? Full of grace? Be better at what I keep thinking to myself. I guess I just want to be a better person. It's something I think I'll know when I feel it or see it. My friend Kyle at work said to me today one thing he wants to do is role model for his employees what he wants from his supervisors. He tries to listen more, talk less, put his phone away, and give positive feedback and not just negative. It struck a chord with me-- maybe I'll see and hear things in other people that I want to mirror back, to the "world" around me...
Third, I have so many big things happening in my life all the time that feel very weighty to me, I have a tendency to sweat the small stuff. The book entitled Don't Sweat the Small Stuff and it's All Small Stuff is so wrong. It is all NOT small. But I need to realize that my life does have small stuff that I need to relax about. I don't have to repeat it to someone else, double check everything, let my OCD organizational skills run rampant. I need to do a better job at picking what is a 'small stuff' and just letting it do, saying no, not worrying and walk away.
So after all that... maybe my mantra, to sum it all up in 2014... should be "Make Better Choices."
Maggie
When I first read this prompt I had several thoughts at once, my ADD brain taking over and all my little voices in my head screaming something different at one time: "get a job" and "be better" and "don't sweat the small stuff." Just bam- bam- bam all these thoughts came to me at once.
Then I started typing and this post was going in a different direction and I started having "wait a minute" type of thoughts.
First, I have a job. I work part-time in a public school library. I'm in charge of the art club. I'm the prom sponsor. I run the Literary Club. I also work part-time every third weekend as a second shift receptionist. None of these things adds up to full time, and none of them offer health insurance. BUT I have a job. I should clarify: I want to find my career niche with a professional position that I would enjoy and could work at until I retire. I'd like for it to be full-time and offer health insurance and other benefits (401K, PTO time, dental/vision insurance among others). I need to stay positive and do a career search. I need someone who knows something about resume writing to help me (for free or at a very low cost) re-do or make it stronger. I need to broaden my search locations but narrow the field. I apply for anything and everything that may sound remotely interesting but not something that might become a career or have longevity. I need to have some focus and make better choices when it comes to applying for positions. (And I'd appreciate help if anyone wants to re-work my resume or would like to comb CareerBuilders and go ahead and apply for jobs for me, I'd be happy for the help!!!)
Second, "be better." This popped in my head and when I think about it... I don't even know what I meant. Be better at what? A better friend? Daughter? Mom? Employee? Girlfriend? Person? Listener? Empathizer? Whine less? Complain less? Be more positive? Less negative? Be more active? Hopeful? Observant? Full of grace? Be better at what I keep thinking to myself. I guess I just want to be a better person. It's something I think I'll know when I feel it or see it. My friend Kyle at work said to me today one thing he wants to do is role model for his employees what he wants from his supervisors. He tries to listen more, talk less, put his phone away, and give positive feedback and not just negative. It struck a chord with me-- maybe I'll see and hear things in other people that I want to mirror back, to the "world" around me...
Third, I have so many big things happening in my life all the time that feel very weighty to me, I have a tendency to sweat the small stuff. The book entitled Don't Sweat the Small Stuff and it's All Small Stuff is so wrong. It is all NOT small. But I need to realize that my life does have small stuff that I need to relax about. I don't have to repeat it to someone else, double check everything, let my OCD organizational skills run rampant. I need to do a better job at picking what is a 'small stuff' and just letting it do, saying no, not worrying and walk away.
So after all that... maybe my mantra, to sum it all up in 2014... should be "Make Better Choices."
Maggie
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Random Saturday brain ramblings
I had a great idea to blog about when I was at the grocery store but I didn't write it down and now I can't remember what I want to say. You are now stuck with rambling.
Trying to pick a movie to watch with Mac on Netflix is a pain in the butt. Mostly he wants to watch documentaries, stand up or British television. I just want to watch a movie and laugh. He's such an ass about picking a movie, unless it's in a theater, then he'll see almost anything.
I love melted cheddar cheese on an apple. Bad on weight watchers but yummy on the palette.
I'm so tired I can barely see straight. I'm going to bed shortly, while it's still daylight, which is really lame for a Saturday night.
I have an awesome date story to tell you all.
I miss Curley. I'm just sayin'. She's not mad at me or anything but I haven't seen her in forever. We all know who's still mad at me.
Europe is calling my name. I wish is would also be giving me money at the same time, but she is calling. I want to go. I need to go.
My toes are swollen today. Gee, I love summer and humidity here in the Midwest.
Mags
Trying to pick a movie to watch with Mac on Netflix is a pain in the butt. Mostly he wants to watch documentaries, stand up or British television. I just want to watch a movie and laugh. He's such an ass about picking a movie, unless it's in a theater, then he'll see almost anything.
I love melted cheddar cheese on an apple. Bad on weight watchers but yummy on the palette.
I'm so tired I can barely see straight. I'm going to bed shortly, while it's still daylight, which is really lame for a Saturday night.
I have an awesome date story to tell you all.
I miss Curley. I'm just sayin'. She's not mad at me or anything but I haven't seen her in forever. We all know who's still mad at me.
Europe is calling my name. I wish is would also be giving me money at the same time, but she is calling. I want to go. I need to go.
My toes are swollen today. Gee, I love summer and humidity here in the Midwest.
Mags
Friday, February 11, 2011
What I learned last night
I don't know how this conversation even started. ITSam and I were talking and he was telling me something or asking me something but I got confused because of my apparent lack of knowledge. His story went by the way side when he learned he had to sort me out.
I didn't know I needed sorted.
Until last night I thought...
Well, I guess I was wrong...
My pop culture references short circuited somewhere.
Paul Hogan was the star of the movie Crocodile Dundee. This movie was a fake. Paul Hogan is an actor. And he's still alive. He isn't dead, and wasn't killed by a manatee. Also, he doesn't have a daughter who has her own TV show on the Animal Planet called To Catch a Predator. And The Rock is not the nickname of Vin Diesel. And Vince Vaughn was not in Walking Tall. That was Johnny Knoxville.
Okay so I thought Paul Hogan was in a movie about his life (Crocodile Dundee) and that he was the Crocodile Hunter. Paul Hogan was the actor in a movie that was not about the life of Steve Irwin who IS... well, WAS the Crocodile Hunter. And Steve Irwin is dead. He was stung to death by a manta ray. Not a manatee. They are two separate guys. And two separate ocean creatures.
And Steve Irwin has a daughter who does have her own TV show, about animals.
The TV show To Catch a Predator is about catching Internet child molesters. Steve Irwin's daughter has nothing to do with the child molesters.
Ummmmm, let's see.... what else?
Oh, I thought the Rock, who's real name is Dwayne Johnson, was Vin Diesel. Or, rather, I thought The Rock was a nickname for Vin Diesel. They are two different guys. And while I was trying to figure out which guy was in what movie, I thought that Vince Vaughn was the sidekick in Walking Tall. Uhhhh, nope.
I hate it when I'm an idiot.
All these years.... I was just confused. I was content in my ignorance.
The Rock was The Scorpion King and he was not Fast and Furious.
A manatee looks like the cow of the ocean.
And I laughed until I about peed myself.
I've no idea, either...
Maggie
This is a manatee and it didn't kill Steve Irwin (or Paul Hogan).
This is a manta ray and it DID kill Steve Irwin (not Paul Hogan).
This is Steve Irwin. He is the real life Crocodile Hunter and he is dead, killed by the manta ray (not the manatee). The movie Crocodile Dundee has NOTHING to do with him, at all, ever.
This is Paul Hogan, an actor, who is alive and was not killed by a manatee nor manta ray and has nothing to do with Steve Irwin. Paul starred in the movie Crocodile Dundee, which is NOT about the life of Steve Irwin.
This is Vin Diesel who is just Vin Diesel. He was in the Fast and the Furious. He was not a wrestler, a pro football player, and was not in Walking Tall, nor was he the scorpion king. And lots of Internet sites speculate that he's gay.
This is The Rock, aka Dwayne Johnson. He was a wrestler, and could've been a football player. He was in Walking Tall, and was he the scorpion king. No Internet speculation about his sexuality.
Does anyone other than me see I could at least get these two guys confused?
Johnny Knoxville who IS in Walking Tall
Vince Vaughn who is NOT in Walking Tall
Now that we have that all cleared up...
I didn't know I needed sorted.
Until last night I thought...
Well, I guess I was wrong...
My pop culture references short circuited somewhere.
Paul Hogan was the star of the movie Crocodile Dundee. This movie was a fake. Paul Hogan is an actor. And he's still alive. He isn't dead, and wasn't killed by a manatee. Also, he doesn't have a daughter who has her own TV show on the Animal Planet called To Catch a Predator. And The Rock is not the nickname of Vin Diesel. And Vince Vaughn was not in Walking Tall. That was Johnny Knoxville.
Okay so I thought Paul Hogan was in a movie about his life (Crocodile Dundee) and that he was the Crocodile Hunter. Paul Hogan was the actor in a movie that was not about the life of Steve Irwin who IS... well, WAS the Crocodile Hunter. And Steve Irwin is dead. He was stung to death by a manta ray. Not a manatee. They are two separate guys. And two separate ocean creatures.
And Steve Irwin has a daughter who does have her own TV show, about animals.
The TV show To Catch a Predator is about catching Internet child molesters. Steve Irwin's daughter has nothing to do with the child molesters.
Ummmmm, let's see.... what else?
Oh, I thought the Rock, who's real name is Dwayne Johnson, was Vin Diesel. Or, rather, I thought The Rock was a nickname for Vin Diesel. They are two different guys. And while I was trying to figure out which guy was in what movie, I thought that Vince Vaughn was the sidekick in Walking Tall. Uhhhh, nope.
I hate it when I'm an idiot.
All these years.... I was just confused. I was content in my ignorance.
The Rock was The Scorpion King and he was not Fast and Furious.
A manatee looks like the cow of the ocean.
And I laughed until I about peed myself.
I've no idea, either...
Maggie
This is a manatee and it didn't kill Steve Irwin (or Paul Hogan).
This is a manta ray and it DID kill Steve Irwin (not Paul Hogan).
This is Steve Irwin. He is the real life Crocodile Hunter and he is dead, killed by the manta ray (not the manatee). The movie Crocodile Dundee has NOTHING to do with him, at all, ever. 
This is Paul Hogan, an actor, who is alive and was not killed by a manatee nor manta ray and has nothing to do with Steve Irwin. Paul starred in the movie Crocodile Dundee, which is NOT about the life of Steve Irwin.
This is Vin Diesel who is just Vin Diesel. He was in the Fast and the Furious. He was not a wrestler, a pro football player, and was not in Walking Tall, nor was he the scorpion king. And lots of Internet sites speculate that he's gay.
This is The Rock, aka Dwayne Johnson. He was a wrestler, and could've been a football player. He was in Walking Tall, and was he the scorpion king. No Internet speculation about his sexuality.Does anyone other than me see I could at least get these two guys confused?
Johnny Knoxville who IS in Walking Tall
Vince Vaughn who is NOT in Walking TallNow that we have that all cleared up...
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Last minute updates and teasers
I didn't have a chance to talk to the principal about the nasty comment described in yesterday's post but I have a meeting with him on Monday!
I applied for a part time job (like a need another one!) to direct a school musical at a neighboring high school! More on this if it comes to fruition!
January is not having me start as a good blogger. I can't believe I forgot to blog today. Well, I didn't really forget. I thought I was going to have an update about yesterday to post this afternoon and when it didn't happen the thought of blogging flew out my head. I was swamped with the mundane today.
ITSam has his son this weekend so I have a BF free weekend. Sadly, I'm looking forward to that. I think I'm still upset about Tuesday. I don't hold grudges usually (does the one I have against my ex count?) but I'm struggling to get over this.
Speaking of the ex, SD still hasn't called Mac since the day they went shopping. What a jerk. He tells Mac he wants to try and improve their relationship and then goes on hiatus. Mac said he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. Smart kid.
My Verizon Wireless contract is up in 11 more days. Can we hear a round of applause? I think Sprint will get my business.
We [we being teachers and parents who give a crap about their kids' homework assignments] yell and yell at our teens when they write assignments in "texting" language but I have what I feel to be a legitimate question. The word "I" is spelled "I" as in "I can't wait for the weekend." So why isn't the word "are" spelled r and the word "why" spelled y and "see" spelled c? Hey, I'm just sayin'...
Maggie
I applied for a part time job (like a need another one!) to direct a school musical at a neighboring high school! More on this if it comes to fruition!
January is not having me start as a good blogger. I can't believe I forgot to blog today. Well, I didn't really forget. I thought I was going to have an update about yesterday to post this afternoon and when it didn't happen the thought of blogging flew out my head. I was swamped with the mundane today.
ITSam has his son this weekend so I have a BF free weekend. Sadly, I'm looking forward to that. I think I'm still upset about Tuesday. I don't hold grudges usually (does the one I have against my ex count?) but I'm struggling to get over this.
Speaking of the ex, SD still hasn't called Mac since the day they went shopping. What a jerk. He tells Mac he wants to try and improve their relationship and then goes on hiatus. Mac said he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. Smart kid.
My Verizon Wireless contract is up in 11 more days. Can we hear a round of applause? I think Sprint will get my business.
We [we being teachers and parents who give a crap about their kids' homework assignments] yell and yell at our teens when they write assignments in "texting" language but I have what I feel to be a legitimate question. The word "I" is spelled "I" as in "I can't wait for the weekend." So why isn't the word "are" spelled r and the word "why" spelled y and "see" spelled c? Hey, I'm just sayin'...
Maggie
Sunday, November 21, 2010
What will your verse be?
I was reading a fellow blogger's post about a person's legacy; I would credit this person but I can't find the post again! Whenever I think of a legacy, one of the things I always think of is the movie Dead Poet's Society, of Carpi Diem, of the infamous line of "what will your verse be?"
I have been personally struggling with the questions this blogger posted. This last year has been rough and great and full of excitement, heartbreak, pain, work, play, joy, and disappointments. It's been sorrows and surprises. Ups and downs. The good, the bad and the ugly...You get my drift. But I think about these things. Maybe too much life change, maybe too much age 39 staring at 40, or maybe too much wanderlust and romance with life's journeys going unfulfilled. But I wonder what my verse will be. And this fellow blogger got me thinking.
This blogger wrote:
What is the worst thing you have ever done in your life? What is the best? What will your legacy be when you are gone? When fate forces the issue, where do you stand? Do you care? Does it matter?
I know the worst thing I've ever done and a very, very small handful of people know about it. I hope it's not what I am always remembered as. I think of the worst as being regrets. I try to have few. I have about 3-4 and I'm 39. That's not a bad list, right? I only have a regret if it's a 'situation' where I walked away and I still feel negative about it and it can't be fixed or changed. That's what leaves me with a regret. Everything else, well, I may have done things I'm not proud of but I made a choice and I did those things and that shapes who I am. I learned a lesson and walked away being a better person. (Sometimes drunker or "stupider" but in the end, better).
The best thing I think I've done is Mac. Nothing can be better than his mere existence. But will "mom" be my verse? We all wear many hats. I teach so I know some kids might remember me as that witch who gave them an F or as that cool English teacher who made Shakespeare fun. I'm a friend, a daughter, a sister, etc. BUT I'm a mom- Mac will forever be part of who I am and what I did in life. I write so my words on paper shall live longer than I, whether they are read by anyone other than friends and family is yet to be seen (other than bloggers of course). Are the hats I wear the things that define my verse? The question is posed that do I care how I'm remembered? Well, I'll be dead so I'll be past caring but... Okay, seriously. Do I care- yes. By Mac, yes. Anyone else...yes. I would love to say, no but it does matter. But what Mac remembers is the most important; he's what matters.
The blogger goes on to write:
Will people love you or hate you? I never thought anyone would hate me but now I can count at least one. I earned the enmity but it is still hard to swallow. I have done some good things in my life. That should count for something.
I'm sure there's someone out there who hates me (I've worked in education for more than 10 years. SOMEONE hates me. I have trouble keeping my mouth shut and my opinions to myself, again so I'm sure someone does! And I have an ex-husband. 'Nuff said there.). I don't know who, but I'm sure I've made enemies- no one has told me to my face they hate me, but hey, I'm not totally likable so there's got to be someone. I've done good things in my life and I hope I am remembered by those rather than by one act/deed/word that I did/uttered that was wrong.
The blogger further says:
But as this night falls my legacy has little of good in it. I used to live my life as if every day would be my lasting legacy to the world. Every day I had to do something that would make the world a little better than when I found it... I ask: what are the best and worst things you have done? Do they balance out?
There is some credence here. I think we should live each day as if it's our last. I'd like to think the good I have done does balances out the bad, but the last year has made me wonder.
This other guy's blog post certainly was food for thought. I know I want to be remembered as a fun, happy person who made others smile, created a beautiful boy child, smiled often, followed her whims and heart, was true to herself, laughed too loudly, cried too easily, loved passionately and deeply, and maybe touched someone.
So, I ask you again, what will your verse be?
Maggie
And PLEASE feel free to vote for me here:
I have been personally struggling with the questions this blogger posted. This last year has been rough and great and full of excitement, heartbreak, pain, work, play, joy, and disappointments. It's been sorrows and surprises. Ups and downs. The good, the bad and the ugly...You get my drift. But I think about these things. Maybe too much life change, maybe too much age 39 staring at 40, or maybe too much wanderlust and romance with life's journeys going unfulfilled. But I wonder what my verse will be. And this fellow blogger got me thinking.
This blogger wrote:
What is the worst thing you have ever done in your life? What is the best? What will your legacy be when you are gone? When fate forces the issue, where do you stand? Do you care? Does it matter?
I know the worst thing I've ever done and a very, very small handful of people know about it. I hope it's not what I am always remembered as. I think of the worst as being regrets. I try to have few. I have about 3-4 and I'm 39. That's not a bad list, right? I only have a regret if it's a 'situation' where I walked away and I still feel negative about it and it can't be fixed or changed. That's what leaves me with a regret. Everything else, well, I may have done things I'm not proud of but I made a choice and I did those things and that shapes who I am. I learned a lesson and walked away being a better person. (Sometimes drunker or "stupider" but in the end, better).
The best thing I think I've done is Mac. Nothing can be better than his mere existence. But will "mom" be my verse? We all wear many hats. I teach so I know some kids might remember me as that witch who gave them an F or as that cool English teacher who made Shakespeare fun. I'm a friend, a daughter, a sister, etc. BUT I'm a mom- Mac will forever be part of who I am and what I did in life. I write so my words on paper shall live longer than I, whether they are read by anyone other than friends and family is yet to be seen (other than bloggers of course). Are the hats I wear the things that define my verse? The question is posed that do I care how I'm remembered? Well, I'll be dead so I'll be past caring but... Okay, seriously. Do I care- yes. By Mac, yes. Anyone else...yes. I would love to say, no but it does matter. But what Mac remembers is the most important; he's what matters.
The blogger goes on to write:
Will people love you or hate you? I never thought anyone would hate me but now I can count at least one. I earned the enmity but it is still hard to swallow. I have done some good things in my life. That should count for something.
I'm sure there's someone out there who hates me (I've worked in education for more than 10 years. SOMEONE hates me. I have trouble keeping my mouth shut and my opinions to myself, again so I'm sure someone does! And I have an ex-husband. 'Nuff said there.). I don't know who, but I'm sure I've made enemies- no one has told me to my face they hate me, but hey, I'm not totally likable so there's got to be someone. I've done good things in my life and I hope I am remembered by those rather than by one act/deed/word that I did/uttered that was wrong.
The blogger further says:
But as this night falls my legacy has little of good in it. I used to live my life as if every day would be my lasting legacy to the world. Every day I had to do something that would make the world a little better than when I found it... I ask: what are the best and worst things you have done? Do they balance out?
There is some credence here. I think we should live each day as if it's our last. I'd like to think the good I have done does balances out the bad, but the last year has made me wonder.
This other guy's blog post certainly was food for thought. I know I want to be remembered as a fun, happy person who made others smile, created a beautiful boy child, smiled often, followed her whims and heart, was true to herself, laughed too loudly, cried too easily, loved passionately and deeply, and maybe touched someone.
So, I ask you again, what will your verse be?
Maggie
And PLEASE feel free to vote for me here:
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Define Beauty
"Beauty is only skin deep." Is that true? What is beauty? I have no idea what beauty is to everyone, only myself because it is in the eye of the beholder. I know what is beautiful to me, hence the concept of the eye of the beholder thingy. Sometimes I think defining beauty is being able to identify what is unattractive.
I was thinking I could crank out a list of things I think are beautiful, but I can't. Things I think are beautiful are so limited. I appreciate beauty but I also find there are other words which are much more apropos to describe so much. For example, I thought I would say that Sterling roses are beautiful. They are, but I think a better description would be fragile and exquisite. Princess cut diamonds are beautiful, but a better way to say it is sparkly and glamorous. My Wild West landscape is beautiful but a more accurate description would be haunting, picturesque, rolling, lonely.
Love could be considered beautiful. But what is love? Someone once told me his one true love was this statuesque red headed woman. He saw her walking on the boardwalk. She stopped and scooped a dropped bottle for a baby, for a woman who was juggling several unruly children. The redhead did this and then smiled a Mona Lisa smile and floated on her way. She then smiled her smile at him and his heart stopped. She has haunted him forever and he "loves" her. This isn't how we often think of the beauty of love, a small candid moment that passes between 2 strangers. But, I think this is a beautiful story.
Easily we all know things that are not beautiful: flood, famine, disaster, blood, gore... These things are not full of beauty. We can always point our fingers and say "oh, that's so gross" or "that's so ugly." We know what beauty is not. I've always wondered why it's so easy to identify the grotesque.
Poets write about beautiful things like women, weather, flowers, love, babies... Most folks point at fine art or lush gardens as beauty, but beauty is as individual as we are. Who do we find beautiful? I think Charlize Theoron is beautiful in the traditional sense of the word, but there are those who would disagree. I love photography and I think many of Annie Leibovitz photographs are beautiful but I know many who disagree. I have a book of her pictures'; it's a theme coffee table book of women- famous, rich, poor, the common woman, young, old, different races and creeds, with clothes and without. I think this book is full of beautiful photographs. Someone visiting my house once picked it up, flipped through it and called it "lesbian porn." What?!? I feel it's a beautiful compilation of beautiful subjects taken by an amazingly talented photographer while someone else thinks of it as porn...
A friend of mine sent me pictures of himself. I love hands; hand are beautiful and erotic and sensual and sexy and... anyway...! He sent me pictures. I look at these in 2 ways. The erotic turn on part which I'm not talking about here. The other part I will. The pictures he sent are beautiful. Shot close with a sepia setting. The shadows, the light play of sun and darkness. The look on his face, the intensity in his eyes. The angle of his hands, the tilt of his head, the way the camera captured the curl of the hair on his arms, the glint of light on his earring, the tousled hair... I think it's the combination of the way he holds his hands and the look in his eyes and the lighting that reach right into my soul and move me, take my breath away. If it was hanging in a collection of photographs in a museum display, what would we say about the subject? About his hands, his eyes, his expression? He is beautiful, utterly beautiful, in this photograph.
Words can be beautiful. I'm a wordsmith, a lover of words. I love to turn a phrase and enjoy the taste of words on my lips. I love to read descriptions and feel words cascade over me. Some writers can give me the chills and I think that is beauty. I have a sensual bonding with words as an art form and I think this is an unparalleled beauty. Words, simply words which can raise my hackles or stir my heart. Words alone, tied together.... I'm a "writer" so this is a beautiful craft.
My Wild West night skies were (are?) beautiful. The stars punctuate the sky and have this breathtaking splendor that is indescribable. To stand in utter the simple darkness of the night, with no trees, or city lights in the distance, to have nothing but unbroken sky the stretches to the end of the earth and that vast open space is filled with stars. More than saying they look diamonds. These stars in my Wild West sky defy explanation. All I can say is, "it's beautiful."
Beautiful people have filled my life but others often disagree with me. I've had some former Sams who made my GF's question my eyesight. These men are beautiful to me for some reason, for their hearts, their senses of humors, their smiles.... depends on the man, but they aren't jaw dropping handsome/ sexy in the beautiful traditional sense of the word. Then there is me. I don't think I'm a beautiful woman at all. I don't think I'm ugly, but I'm not beautiful. One or two men in my life have said I'm beautiful and whatever they see in me that is beauty is personal to them. Maybe that set a tone or a precedence, but beautiful I'm not. I love that those men told me this and I hold those compliments near and dear to my heart because they didn't say it lightly, or offhandedly. It was said with sincerity. Maybe for that instance I was beautiful. Or maybe I believe them because I want to be beautiful? (Though there was the evil Sam of lore who refused to ever say I was beautiful- it was even a discussion about that I was not beautiful nor stunning; just cute or maybe pretty at times. Jerk.)
And though I am not a beautiful person, I can see beauty and appreciate beauty, but usually in the unusual. Not always in the baby's coo, or the soft rose, or the perfectly sung aria, but in my stars, the photograph of my lover, the pages of books, in hands... I sat and trolled the great wide Internet for a wonderfully famous quote that sums up beauty and nothing is adequate, right, captures how I feel about beauty. I guess "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" will have to do.
Mags
I was thinking I could crank out a list of things I think are beautiful, but I can't. Things I think are beautiful are so limited. I appreciate beauty but I also find there are other words which are much more apropos to describe so much. For example, I thought I would say that Sterling roses are beautiful. They are, but I think a better description would be fragile and exquisite. Princess cut diamonds are beautiful, but a better way to say it is sparkly and glamorous. My Wild West landscape is beautiful but a more accurate description would be haunting, picturesque, rolling, lonely.
Love could be considered beautiful. But what is love? Someone once told me his one true love was this statuesque red headed woman. He saw her walking on the boardwalk. She stopped and scooped a dropped bottle for a baby, for a woman who was juggling several unruly children. The redhead did this and then smiled a Mona Lisa smile and floated on her way. She then smiled her smile at him and his heart stopped. She has haunted him forever and he "loves" her. This isn't how we often think of the beauty of love, a small candid moment that passes between 2 strangers. But, I think this is a beautiful story.
Easily we all know things that are not beautiful: flood, famine, disaster, blood, gore... These things are not full of beauty. We can always point our fingers and say "oh, that's so gross" or "that's so ugly." We know what beauty is not. I've always wondered why it's so easy to identify the grotesque.
Poets write about beautiful things like women, weather, flowers, love, babies... Most folks point at fine art or lush gardens as beauty, but beauty is as individual as we are. Who do we find beautiful? I think Charlize Theoron is beautiful in the traditional sense of the word, but there are those who would disagree. I love photography and I think many of Annie Leibovitz photographs are beautiful but I know many who disagree. I have a book of her pictures'; it's a theme coffee table book of women- famous, rich, poor, the common woman, young, old, different races and creeds, with clothes and without. I think this book is full of beautiful photographs. Someone visiting my house once picked it up, flipped through it and called it "lesbian porn." What?!? I feel it's a beautiful compilation of beautiful subjects taken by an amazingly talented photographer while someone else thinks of it as porn...
A friend of mine sent me pictures of himself. I love hands; hand are beautiful and erotic and sensual and sexy and... anyway...! He sent me pictures. I look at these in 2 ways. The erotic turn on part which I'm not talking about here. The other part I will. The pictures he sent are beautiful. Shot close with a sepia setting. The shadows, the light play of sun and darkness. The look on his face, the intensity in his eyes. The angle of his hands, the tilt of his head, the way the camera captured the curl of the hair on his arms, the glint of light on his earring, the tousled hair... I think it's the combination of the way he holds his hands and the look in his eyes and the lighting that reach right into my soul and move me, take my breath away. If it was hanging in a collection of photographs in a museum display, what would we say about the subject? About his hands, his eyes, his expression? He is beautiful, utterly beautiful, in this photograph.
Words can be beautiful. I'm a wordsmith, a lover of words. I love to turn a phrase and enjoy the taste of words on my lips. I love to read descriptions and feel words cascade over me. Some writers can give me the chills and I think that is beauty. I have a sensual bonding with words as an art form and I think this is an unparalleled beauty. Words, simply words which can raise my hackles or stir my heart. Words alone, tied together.... I'm a "writer" so this is a beautiful craft.
My Wild West night skies were (are?) beautiful. The stars punctuate the sky and have this breathtaking splendor that is indescribable. To stand in utter the simple darkness of the night, with no trees, or city lights in the distance, to have nothing but unbroken sky the stretches to the end of the earth and that vast open space is filled with stars. More than saying they look diamonds. These stars in my Wild West sky defy explanation. All I can say is, "it's beautiful."
Beautiful people have filled my life but others often disagree with me. I've had some former Sams who made my GF's question my eyesight. These men are beautiful to me for some reason, for their hearts, their senses of humors, their smiles.... depends on the man, but they aren't jaw dropping handsome/ sexy in the beautiful traditional sense of the word. Then there is me. I don't think I'm a beautiful woman at all. I don't think I'm ugly, but I'm not beautiful. One or two men in my life have said I'm beautiful and whatever they see in me that is beauty is personal to them. Maybe that set a tone or a precedence, but beautiful I'm not. I love that those men told me this and I hold those compliments near and dear to my heart because they didn't say it lightly, or offhandedly. It was said with sincerity. Maybe for that instance I was beautiful. Or maybe I believe them because I want to be beautiful? (Though there was the evil Sam of lore who refused to ever say I was beautiful- it was even a discussion about that I was not beautiful nor stunning; just cute or maybe pretty at times. Jerk.)
And though I am not a beautiful person, I can see beauty and appreciate beauty, but usually in the unusual. Not always in the baby's coo, or the soft rose, or the perfectly sung aria, but in my stars, the photograph of my lover, the pages of books, in hands... I sat and trolled the great wide Internet for a wonderfully famous quote that sums up beauty and nothing is adequate, right, captures how I feel about beauty. I guess "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" will have to do.
Mags
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Watching movies should be easy
I'm a bit weird (read: OCD), for sure. I've know this for a long time, but there are moments of "clarity" when I see how bad I actually am. For example...
I have a movie blog called Reel Reviews 2010. I don't think anyone ever reads it but me, but that's okay (even though it has a freakin' super cool template). I'm a list maker so it suits that need. I'm also one who likes number goals. As the year has progressed, I decided I wanted to make sure that by Dec. 31 at midnight that I've watched 200 movies. That wasn't my goal at the beginning of the year but because I taught those movies classes this summer, my numbers are waaaaay up so this is an attainable, and should be fun goal.
There is a week left in October and I need to see 4 more movies this month to stay on track of my goal of 200. Right now I've watched 176 movies for the year. I need to see 4 more this month, and then 10 in Nov. and Dec. each to come to an even 200.
Let's further add to this. I use the labels feature that blogger provides and I happened to be bored at work the other night (at my second job, not at teaching) and I was looking at all the labels. I noticed that I had watched 7 Tom Hanks movies, 6 Morgan Freeman, 5 Nick Cage, and 8 Johnny Depp movies. So I decided that I wanted to round all those guys off to an even 10. So of the 24 movies I still need to watch, I have to see 3 Hanks, 2 Depp, 4 Freeman, and 5 Cage films.
To take my OCD just one step further, as if I'm not insane enough, I was looking and I watched Toy Story 1 and Toy Story 3, but not two. So one of my Hanks movies' has to be Toy Story 2 so I've seen them all. I need to do that with National Treasure 2 since I saw the first one. Same with Angels and Demons since I finally saw DaVinci Code.
And I know if it all doesn't happen this way, I will actually be slightly freaked out and upset. So I'll obsess about it until I get it done. I even went so far to make a list of possible Depp, Freeman, Hanks, and Cage movies I could watch to fit my needs. (I'll spare you the list...)
Oh yeah.............. I'm normal. Right. Completely.
Maggie
PS- feel free to join the movie blog to follow my progress, if you want!
I have a movie blog called Reel Reviews 2010. I don't think anyone ever reads it but me, but that's okay (even though it has a freakin' super cool template). I'm a list maker so it suits that need. I'm also one who likes number goals. As the year has progressed, I decided I wanted to make sure that by Dec. 31 at midnight that I've watched 200 movies. That wasn't my goal at the beginning of the year but because I taught those movies classes this summer, my numbers are waaaaay up so this is an attainable, and should be fun goal.
There is a week left in October and I need to see 4 more movies this month to stay on track of my goal of 200. Right now I've watched 176 movies for the year. I need to see 4 more this month, and then 10 in Nov. and Dec. each to come to an even 200.
Let's further add to this. I use the labels feature that blogger provides and I happened to be bored at work the other night (at my second job, not at teaching) and I was looking at all the labels. I noticed that I had watched 7 Tom Hanks movies, 6 Morgan Freeman, 5 Nick Cage, and 8 Johnny Depp movies. So I decided that I wanted to round all those guys off to an even 10. So of the 24 movies I still need to watch, I have to see 3 Hanks, 2 Depp, 4 Freeman, and 5 Cage films.
To take my OCD just one step further, as if I'm not insane enough, I was looking and I watched Toy Story 1 and Toy Story 3, but not two. So one of my Hanks movies' has to be Toy Story 2 so I've seen them all. I need to do that with National Treasure 2 since I saw the first one. Same with Angels and Demons since I finally saw DaVinci Code.
And I know if it all doesn't happen this way, I will actually be slightly freaked out and upset. So I'll obsess about it until I get it done. I even went so far to make a list of possible Depp, Freeman, Hanks, and Cage movies I could watch to fit my needs. (I'll spare you the list...)
Oh yeah.............. I'm normal. Right. Completely.
Maggie
PS- feel free to join the movie blog to follow my progress, if you want!
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Sense of Self
Okay, I think I'm sort of plain looking. I don't wear make-up except for lipstick. I wear glasses. When I color my hair to hide the gray I usually color it a color near my own and I usually do it myself. I don't wear acrylic nails and I don't do much with my fingernails other than keep 'em clean and clipped short. (Though I totally LOVE having pedicures). I'm pale and don't go to the tanning bed because I just usually burn and peel and start the process all over again. I'm over weight. I'm just rather plain, I think.
Now, I have a teacher friend who is also overweight; she's a little bit bigger than me. She's also a little younger as well. She goes to the tanning bed and maintains a tan all year round; it looks good on her. Her hair is always styled and beautifully colored. Her nails are always impeccably done, as is her make up. Her clothes are stylish and always accented with perfect jewelry. Compared to her, compared to almost anyone, I'm Plain Jane.
I know that looking that good takes money, which I don't have. Salon colored hair every 4 weeks is expensive, nearly $40-60 each visit. Nails every two weeks and almost daily tanning bed visits... all that takes money. Which I have very little of. And keeping an update to date wardrobe is outrageously expensive. (I was spending some serious hours reading In Style magazine and I really really need some new clothes. Really.)
Though I've been thinking a lot about self image. As all of you know my self esteem over the last year and a half has taken quite the beating. See I've always looked nice and enjoyed clothes but haven't been a total slave to fashion ( mostly feet fashion); I wear what I like and what's comfortable, or what I can afford. But I've never thought of myself as pretty so I've usually defined myself on what I do for a living rather than how I look. Being unemployed sort of messes with that sense of self.
Keeping that in mind, I also know that how you look can sometimes help how you feel about yourself. I'm not going to kid myself and say that beauty on the inside is the only important thing, because unfortunately, it's really not. I've worked with kids for years and years and one things I've come to realize, that the young ladies need to look good on the outside before they will think they look good inside. It's a sad fact, but true. It's easier to help them pick nice clothes, have a good hair cut and teach them how to use make up than to make them feel like a worthwhile human being and boost their self esteem which will help them make good choices. Like it or not. One time I worked with a group of girls in a Big Sisters program. We took them to Glamour Shots in the mall and by the end of the day those girls where walking around with heads held high and making eye contact with people and not being so shy, as to opposed how they went in, looking poorly and the attitude matched. Sometimes outer beauty is important.
You may be asking yourself if I believe this then why don't I put more effort and energy into my own appearance, which brings me to the thought and question of the day. Well, why don't I? Well money is one reason. And time. All that maintenance takes lots of time, from appointments to daily preparation and upkeep. And then there dumb reasons- I'm lazy. I want to sleep in each morning rather than get up and spend an hour on my make up and hair each day. I spend my money on shoes and books rather than clothes. I'm hard on my hands so paying to get my nails done would be throwing good money after bad. I don't know how to put on make up to get the look I want.
Lately, though, lately Ive though about maybe doing some "work" on myself. First, and foremost, I want to be infinitely clear- this has nothing to do with ITSam or men of any kind. As a matter of fact, ITSam would be thrown off kilter if I was all fancied up. One thing he says he loves about me is my look; he thinks (and tells me) that I'm beautiful. So this is NOT a man thing. It's a Maggie thing. I'm old enough now that I think the fresh scrubbed face, the clean girl next door look is more like the lady next door is really lazy. And getting old. I've been thinking of taking of advantage of the tanning bed special and seeing if this pa;e Irish skin could actually hold some color. Tan fat looks better than white fat. I'm thinking of maybe asking my friend how to do some makeup. Maybe spend some money on clothes. Maybe get some highlights in my hair.
This is about me, just something I've thought about lately. Maybe to help me feel better about myself, maybe to help grasp some youth, maybe to change my look? I dunno... but I know "Beauty is only skin deep" and "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" but why don't people "idolize" (for lack of a better word) the likes of Margaret Thatcher or Marie Curie rather than Marilyn Monroe and Megan Fox?
Just thinkin',
Maggie
Now, I have a teacher friend who is also overweight; she's a little bit bigger than me. She's also a little younger as well. She goes to the tanning bed and maintains a tan all year round; it looks good on her. Her hair is always styled and beautifully colored. Her nails are always impeccably done, as is her make up. Her clothes are stylish and always accented with perfect jewelry. Compared to her, compared to almost anyone, I'm Plain Jane.
I know that looking that good takes money, which I don't have. Salon colored hair every 4 weeks is expensive, nearly $40-60 each visit. Nails every two weeks and almost daily tanning bed visits... all that takes money. Which I have very little of. And keeping an update to date wardrobe is outrageously expensive. (I was spending some serious hours reading In Style magazine and I really really need some new clothes. Really.)
Though I've been thinking a lot about self image. As all of you know my self esteem over the last year and a half has taken quite the beating. See I've always looked nice and enjoyed clothes but haven't been a total slave to fashion ( mostly feet fashion); I wear what I like and what's comfortable, or what I can afford. But I've never thought of myself as pretty so I've usually defined myself on what I do for a living rather than how I look. Being unemployed sort of messes with that sense of self.
Keeping that in mind, I also know that how you look can sometimes help how you feel about yourself. I'm not going to kid myself and say that beauty on the inside is the only important thing, because unfortunately, it's really not. I've worked with kids for years and years and one things I've come to realize, that the young ladies need to look good on the outside before they will think they look good inside. It's a sad fact, but true. It's easier to help them pick nice clothes, have a good hair cut and teach them how to use make up than to make them feel like a worthwhile human being and boost their self esteem which will help them make good choices. Like it or not. One time I worked with a group of girls in a Big Sisters program. We took them to Glamour Shots in the mall and by the end of the day those girls where walking around with heads held high and making eye contact with people and not being so shy, as to opposed how they went in, looking poorly and the attitude matched. Sometimes outer beauty is important.
You may be asking yourself if I believe this then why don't I put more effort and energy into my own appearance, which brings me to the thought and question of the day. Well, why don't I? Well money is one reason. And time. All that maintenance takes lots of time, from appointments to daily preparation and upkeep. And then there dumb reasons- I'm lazy. I want to sleep in each morning rather than get up and spend an hour on my make up and hair each day. I spend my money on shoes and books rather than clothes. I'm hard on my hands so paying to get my nails done would be throwing good money after bad. I don't know how to put on make up to get the look I want.
Lately, though, lately Ive though about maybe doing some "work" on myself. First, and foremost, I want to be infinitely clear- this has nothing to do with ITSam or men of any kind. As a matter of fact, ITSam would be thrown off kilter if I was all fancied up. One thing he says he loves about me is my look; he thinks (and tells me) that I'm beautiful. So this is NOT a man thing. It's a Maggie thing. I'm old enough now that I think the fresh scrubbed face, the clean girl next door look is more like the lady next door is really lazy. And getting old. I've been thinking of taking of advantage of the tanning bed special and seeing if this pa;e Irish skin could actually hold some color. Tan fat looks better than white fat. I'm thinking of maybe asking my friend how to do some makeup. Maybe spend some money on clothes. Maybe get some highlights in my hair.
This is about me, just something I've thought about lately. Maybe to help me feel better about myself, maybe to help grasp some youth, maybe to change my look? I dunno... but I know "Beauty is only skin deep" and "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" but why don't people "idolize" (for lack of a better word) the likes of Margaret Thatcher or Marie Curie rather than Marilyn Monroe and Megan Fox?
Just thinkin',
Maggie
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Bring it back!
Why don't we still have...
Maggie
- cobbled streets anymore? They always look so cool and quaint. And with all the modern technology given to us in autos, they could surely handle the bumps. I mean, horses and buggies survived so cars surely could, now. Right?
- milk men? I think the idea of a nice man in a nice white truck in a nice white uniform delivering milk door to door is a nice idea. I think glass bottled milk is better than plastic jugs or bags. It tastes fresher and colder. I'd never run out and have to make a midnight Wal-Mart run to supply Mac with milk!
- more drive in theaters? It;s a sad concept that seems to have died out over the years. Very few remain the the country. Luckily, my hometown has one. This drive-in shows a double feature every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights. Usually they show movies that are very new, and even opening weekend shows. Shows start about 15 minutes after sunset. It's pretty cheap as well, like $10 a carload. The sound is good, too, because it's now over a radio station. A drive in is an easy way to smuggle in snacks. And you can go to the movie in your jammies- how awesome is that?
- automats? Automats were a 'cafeteria meets vending machines.' Usually women worked in a kitchen, plating up fresh food. People would walk up to the machine front, place their money in the selected slot, the lock on the door springs free and you could open the door and remove your plate. And since it was cafeteria style, you could have as many varieties as you wanted to choose from and pay for. I like the idea of a glorified vending machine with fresh foods. Fast food that was coin operated- how cool was that?
- poodle skirts? All sorts of other fashions have come in and out of style over and over again through the years, but never the poodle skirt. They were adorable and comfortable. maybe not always flattering, but comfortable and colorful.
Maggie
Friday, June 18, 2010
Ghost Stories
Mac thinks this is hocus-pocus and nonsense and that we're all making it up. But as far as I know, this is all true.
I do believe in ghosts, spirits and haunted houses. I do. I didn't used to, but I do now. I don't believe in them in a Ghostbusters movies style but I do think they exist. I don't know much about ghosts or the paranormal, but hey, we all have our reasons for what we believe.
I lived in a house where a murder and suicide happened. When I moved into the old country house everyone knew it was the site of a grisly crime but no one told me. So I lived there with a former Sam and with Mac. Sam traveled lots for his job so Mac and I were there alone. Often. It was in the country, in the middle of nowhere with no near neighbors. No one to hear you scream in the night.
Mac was about 4 or 5 years old when we lived in this place. Weird things happened at this house that couldn't be explained. I would complain to Sam about stuff and he would get a weird look on his face and tell me I was crazy. But often, when he was gone on a trip, I would get up in the morning and every kitchen cabinet door was opened. This happened on more than one occasion. Mac was way t0o little to get them open and I was the only adult there. This happened all the time. It was creepy and weird. It would happen when Sam was home but he usually found them open and would get them closed before I saw and wouldn't say anything about it.
There was a mudroom off the kitchen and we cleaned and cleaned it. We put in new carpets and Daddy-O painted a mural on it and I turned it into a playroom. Mac refused to play there; he thought it was scary. And it had a weird smell. It didn't matter how much I cleaned, it still smelled and Mac was still scared to even go in there.
There were spots in the house that were cold. All the time. This old house didn't have central air conditioning and there was spots where frost formed at time. In the middle of July in the Midwest. It was creepy and weird. And scary.
And everyone knew what happened there but me. My friends and family managed to keep it a secret from me for almost a year. I kept talking about all these weird things that happened and people would exchange looks and then tell me I was imagining things. I swear, after almost a year there I was scared of my own shadow and would jump at the strangest sound. I was wrung out and jumpy and it was terrible. I thought I was going mad. I was scared of the house, to be in it alone, with just Mac, scared to be there alone.
Then one day some guys were doing some roof work and I was inside washing walls and I heard them talking through the open window about how they weren't supposed to talk about the house to me. Then one guy said no one could pay him enough to live in this place, after what happened.
I went outside and threw a monster hissy fit until they told me. A man murdered his wife in the kitchen. He killed himself in the mudroom. And their little girl hid in the kitchen cupboards while it all happened, until people found her. She was only 4 or 5 years old when it happened. It had happened just 14 years before I moved in. When the cops got there, all the cupboard doors were open and flies and the bodies and the smell... oh god.
Well, you can imagine I was furious and relieved all at the same time. I finally knew the house was haunted and I had believed the house was haunted; now I felt like I had some proof. And I think people around me thought so too. I didn't know the house history so I couldn't make stuff up or have an "over active" imagination. I think my friends and family were freaked out but didn't know how to tell me. And we had looked for a house to rent for a long time and this was just what we wanted, and the rent was cheap.
I moved OUT within a week of finding out what happened there. And I don't think I slept a night there once I found out. It was awful.
I thought of this story again because my Bro said Ms. K sees a ghost called Debbie. She's 20 months old and hardly speaks words yet, but she sees a Debbie. They don't know if it's an imaginary friend or what, but Bro thinks it's a ghost or a spirit. I made a "she sees dead people" joke and no one but Mac- the non believer- thought it was funny.
Those are my ghost stories, as I know it. My friends and family always sort of joke when I move and I want to know if the place I'm renting housed a dead person or not. I lived above a funeral home for almost a year and never really batted an eye about it (it was the greatest apartment of my life!) but after living in the murder/ suicide house, I now ask the death questions of my landlords. Some of my friends should realize they are responsible for this curiosity.
So when people kid around about being afraid of things that go bump in the night, I don't usually take that too lightly.
Maggie
I do believe in ghosts, spirits and haunted houses. I do. I didn't used to, but I do now. I don't believe in them in a Ghostbusters movies style but I do think they exist. I don't know much about ghosts or the paranormal, but hey, we all have our reasons for what we believe.
I lived in a house where a murder and suicide happened. When I moved into the old country house everyone knew it was the site of a grisly crime but no one told me. So I lived there with a former Sam and with Mac. Sam traveled lots for his job so Mac and I were there alone. Often. It was in the country, in the middle of nowhere with no near neighbors. No one to hear you scream in the night.
Mac was about 4 or 5 years old when we lived in this place. Weird things happened at this house that couldn't be explained. I would complain to Sam about stuff and he would get a weird look on his face and tell me I was crazy. But often, when he was gone on a trip, I would get up in the morning and every kitchen cabinet door was opened. This happened on more than one occasion. Mac was way t0o little to get them open and I was the only adult there. This happened all the time. It was creepy and weird. It would happen when Sam was home but he usually found them open and would get them closed before I saw and wouldn't say anything about it.
There was a mudroom off the kitchen and we cleaned and cleaned it. We put in new carpets and Daddy-O painted a mural on it and I turned it into a playroom. Mac refused to play there; he thought it was scary. And it had a weird smell. It didn't matter how much I cleaned, it still smelled and Mac was still scared to even go in there.
There were spots in the house that were cold. All the time. This old house didn't have central air conditioning and there was spots where frost formed at time. In the middle of July in the Midwest. It was creepy and weird. And scary.
And everyone knew what happened there but me. My friends and family managed to keep it a secret from me for almost a year. I kept talking about all these weird things that happened and people would exchange looks and then tell me I was imagining things. I swear, after almost a year there I was scared of my own shadow and would jump at the strangest sound. I was wrung out and jumpy and it was terrible. I thought I was going mad. I was scared of the house, to be in it alone, with just Mac, scared to be there alone.
Then one day some guys were doing some roof work and I was inside washing walls and I heard them talking through the open window about how they weren't supposed to talk about the house to me. Then one guy said no one could pay him enough to live in this place, after what happened.
I went outside and threw a monster hissy fit until they told me. A man murdered his wife in the kitchen. He killed himself in the mudroom. And their little girl hid in the kitchen cupboards while it all happened, until people found her. She was only 4 or 5 years old when it happened. It had happened just 14 years before I moved in. When the cops got there, all the cupboard doors were open and flies and the bodies and the smell... oh god.
Well, you can imagine I was furious and relieved all at the same time. I finally knew the house was haunted and I had believed the house was haunted; now I felt like I had some proof. And I think people around me thought so too. I didn't know the house history so I couldn't make stuff up or have an "over active" imagination. I think my friends and family were freaked out but didn't know how to tell me. And we had looked for a house to rent for a long time and this was just what we wanted, and the rent was cheap.
I moved OUT within a week of finding out what happened there. And I don't think I slept a night there once I found out. It was awful.
I thought of this story again because my Bro said Ms. K sees a ghost called Debbie. She's 20 months old and hardly speaks words yet, but she sees a Debbie. They don't know if it's an imaginary friend or what, but Bro thinks it's a ghost or a spirit. I made a "she sees dead people" joke and no one but Mac- the non believer- thought it was funny.
Those are my ghost stories, as I know it. My friends and family always sort of joke when I move and I want to know if the place I'm renting housed a dead person or not. I lived above a funeral home for almost a year and never really batted an eye about it (it was the greatest apartment of my life!) but after living in the murder/ suicide house, I now ask the death questions of my landlords. Some of my friends should realize they are responsible for this curiosity.
So when people kid around about being afraid of things that go bump in the night, I don't usually take that too lightly.
Maggie
Monday, June 14, 2010
Obessive Compulsive much?
I think all people are a little ADD, a little bit on the spectrum, and little bit OCD. I think it's all part of human nature. I think people just get these labels attached to them when these things can't be controlled.
And I sure do think I'm certainly suffering from a little OCD- obsessive compulsive disorder. Sometimes to the point of where maybe it's not so little. I often find I have to give myself a little pep talk about... things. For example, I used to subscribe to a bunch of magazines, like 9 to be specific. Now, when a person subscribes to nine magazines and lives with other people, those other people are bound to pick one of those magazines up and read it. Now, don't get me wrong. I don't mind sharing. As long as I read it first. Seriously, if a magazine came in the mail and some previous Sam or Mac or a friend read it, opened it even, merely flipped through it, before I did, I totally flipped out. Totally. It had MY name on it, and I wanted to read it first, and enjoy the new magazine smell, pull out the annoying cards, and such, rather than have someone else's fingerprints all over it!
But I'm better now. First, I don't subscribe to any magazines right now; it's because of money and the lack thereof, rather than because of my OCD. But the other day, as I mentioned, I bought USED magazines and read them. However, I did keep them in my bag until I read them. So, maybe old habits die hard?
I'm not so extreme that I feel the need to wash my hands five or six times in a row or flip a light switch 10 times in a row. But I have a thing about locks. I can be sitting in the living room and watch Daddy-O or Mac check the door locks before they go to bed. I can see from where I'm sitting that the doors are locked. But I still have to check them myself before I got to bed. Hey, it is what it is.
My OCDs are a bit better now. I used to have several of them. And here's the strange thing. I like change. I usually embrace change. I go with the flow. Having my routine interrupted doesn't usually bother me. Moving across the country into the unknown is a good thing. Ah, aren't I just the conundrum?
One thing I've done is when I feel the OCD prickly feeling, I have to have a mental pep talk with myself. I have to let myself know it's okay to NOT do something, or to let something go. I have to mentally tell myself every single morning that I don't have to collect the three remote controls and line them up in a certain order, on a certain table. Mac leaves them in disarray and when I get up the next morning and see them scattered, I have to concentrate on something else or reason with myself that it's okay to leave them where they are. Unless one of them is on the floor and then I have to pick it up. And if I'm going to pick up one, I might as well do all three. I find myself giving my psyche a pep talk to just 'let it go'. And most of the time I can.
This month I had good idea. I was looking at the books I've read this month:
Here's what went on in my head: Oooooooooo, I should read all non-fiction in the month of June! Three books I had already read were non- fiction and the only fiction I read was like non-fiction since it was sort of historical based. Well, I thought, I can't do the all non-fiction thing because 1000 White Women was fiction; honesty counts when arguing with my sub -conscious. Then I looked at what I had to read. Oooooooooooooo, I thought to myself, I could read either all non-fiction books or books with numbers in the title. I then proceeded to look at my Goodreads "to- read' list to see if I had any number title books on it that I could quickly get my hands on. And what other non-fiction I wanted to read. Then I fretted that if I decided to do that and I couldn't find something to read, I would break the rule. The rule I just arbitrarily set for myself. And what would happen if I broke it? Well, I would've let myself down. Do you see this mental argument? So I thought I would trick myself and read 1000 Days in Venice and then if I found another number book or another non-fiction then cool and if not, no big deal. I thought I would just decide after the Venice book. Then I felt like that was cheating. So, I forced myself to put 1000 Days in Venice book down and read The likeness so I didn't OCD myself into a moment of panic.
This is what goes on inside my head.
Did I mention sometimes it's like the inmate is in charge of the asylum?
Maggie Mae
And I sure do think I'm certainly suffering from a little OCD- obsessive compulsive disorder. Sometimes to the point of where maybe it's not so little. I often find I have to give myself a little pep talk about... things. For example, I used to subscribe to a bunch of magazines, like 9 to be specific. Now, when a person subscribes to nine magazines and lives with other people, those other people are bound to pick one of those magazines up and read it. Now, don't get me wrong. I don't mind sharing. As long as I read it first. Seriously, if a magazine came in the mail and some previous Sam or Mac or a friend read it, opened it even, merely flipped through it, before I did, I totally flipped out. Totally. It had MY name on it, and I wanted to read it first, and enjoy the new magazine smell, pull out the annoying cards, and such, rather than have someone else's fingerprints all over it!
But I'm better now. First, I don't subscribe to any magazines right now; it's because of money and the lack thereof, rather than because of my OCD. But the other day, as I mentioned, I bought USED magazines and read them. However, I did keep them in my bag until I read them. So, maybe old habits die hard?
I'm not so extreme that I feel the need to wash my hands five or six times in a row or flip a light switch 10 times in a row. But I have a thing about locks. I can be sitting in the living room and watch Daddy-O or Mac check the door locks before they go to bed. I can see from where I'm sitting that the doors are locked. But I still have to check them myself before I got to bed. Hey, it is what it is.
My OCDs are a bit better now. I used to have several of them. And here's the strange thing. I like change. I usually embrace change. I go with the flow. Having my routine interrupted doesn't usually bother me. Moving across the country into the unknown is a good thing. Ah, aren't I just the conundrum?
One thing I've done is when I feel the OCD prickly feeling, I have to have a mental pep talk with myself. I have to let myself know it's okay to NOT do something, or to let something go. I have to mentally tell myself every single morning that I don't have to collect the three remote controls and line them up in a certain order, on a certain table. Mac leaves them in disarray and when I get up the next morning and see them scattered, I have to concentrate on something else or reason with myself that it's okay to leave them where they are. Unless one of them is on the floor and then I have to pick it up. And if I'm going to pick up one, I might as well do all three. I find myself giving my psyche a pep talk to just 'let it go'. And most of the time I can.
This month I had good idea. I was looking at the books I've read this month:
- The Sharper the knife, the less you cry
- 1000 White Women
- What French Women Know
- The House at the end of the road
Here's what went on in my head: Oooooooooo, I should read all non-fiction in the month of June! Three books I had already read were non- fiction and the only fiction I read was like non-fiction since it was sort of historical based. Well, I thought, I can't do the all non-fiction thing because 1000 White Women was fiction; honesty counts when arguing with my sub -conscious. Then I looked at what I had to read. Oooooooooooooo, I thought to myself, I could read either all non-fiction books or books with numbers in the title. I then proceeded to look at my Goodreads "to- read' list to see if I had any number title books on it that I could quickly get my hands on. And what other non-fiction I wanted to read. Then I fretted that if I decided to do that and I couldn't find something to read, I would break the rule. The rule I just arbitrarily set for myself. And what would happen if I broke it? Well, I would've let myself down. Do you see this mental argument? So I thought I would trick myself and read 1000 Days in Venice and then if I found another number book or another non-fiction then cool and if not, no big deal. I thought I would just decide after the Venice book. Then I felt like that was cheating. So, I forced myself to put 1000 Days in Venice book down and read The likeness so I didn't OCD myself into a moment of panic.
This is what goes on inside my head.
Did I mention sometimes it's like the inmate is in charge of the asylum?
Maggie Mae
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Pity Party for One, please
The plan was to move back here to Civilization in December 2008 and have a full time job with benefits in or very near my hometown in about three months. I would then rent an apartment or a house and stay here until Mac graduated from high school. Then I would either continue, or I would see where my wanderlust took me next.
Well, as the title implies, things didn't go according to plan.
I have applied for at least 200 plus jobs in the last 18 months and none have come to full time fruition. I receive lash praise from colleagues and students each time I enter the teaching arena but I have no teaching license in my home state and need money to afford school to do this, which is a Catch 22= I can't afford school since I don't have a full time job and I can't get a full time job in teaching without a license. And, apparently, I can't seem to get a full time job OUT of education because everyone and their brother is still unemployed. Fuck that the experts say about employment being back on the rise; anyone unemployed in the Midwest will tell you otherwise.
And of that over 200 jobs I've applied for, about 90% are outside of education, so yes, I'm apply all over the place, trying just about anything as one might be known to do when one is desperate.
This summer I'm teaching at Alcatraz and I've applied for a job at a local mental health center, still having not heard anything. I was given a sterling recommendation so I hope that will at least merit an interview, IF they decide to look at people externally. But when the summer ends, it seems I'm back on the substitute teaching list if nothing else comes along.
This summer I had high hopes of living and working in Ireland, but that fell through; I was having help on that end to find a job and a place to live but to no avail. I would've been happy as a live in au pair or a house sitter and a bartender, but the person who was helping didn't seemed to inclined to really "help" so it just became another dream, another disappointment.
I hate it when nothing goes according to plan.
I'm trying to find work and it's not working. I'm stressed to the point of breaking. I'm on the verge of tears all the time. I get home from school and want nothing more than to sleep from 3pm until I have to get up the next day. My uncle (and aunt) where here a short time ago and my uncle adds to my stress... because I don't have a job. Well, duh. If I could get one, at this point, don't ya think I would? It's always on my mind and having it in my face doesn't help.
I worry about EVERYTHING. ALL the time. Sometimes I think it would be easier to crawl into the deep dark recesses of my mind and think about what it would be like to not have to worry about it all, and what I could do to make life easier for everyone, self included, eventually. Those thoughts aren't usually good. I feel like an inmate who's been left in charge of the asylum.
This isn't where I wanted to be or who I want to be. Sometimes, though, a person just doesn't have any means to control... anything.
Mags
Well, as the title implies, things didn't go according to plan.
I have applied for at least 200 plus jobs in the last 18 months and none have come to full time fruition. I receive lash praise from colleagues and students each time I enter the teaching arena but I have no teaching license in my home state and need money to afford school to do this, which is a Catch 22= I can't afford school since I don't have a full time job and I can't get a full time job in teaching without a license. And, apparently, I can't seem to get a full time job OUT of education because everyone and their brother is still unemployed. Fuck that the experts say about employment being back on the rise; anyone unemployed in the Midwest will tell you otherwise.
And of that over 200 jobs I've applied for, about 90% are outside of education, so yes, I'm apply all over the place, trying just about anything as one might be known to do when one is desperate.
This summer I'm teaching at Alcatraz and I've applied for a job at a local mental health center, still having not heard anything. I was given a sterling recommendation so I hope that will at least merit an interview, IF they decide to look at people externally. But when the summer ends, it seems I'm back on the substitute teaching list if nothing else comes along.
This summer I had high hopes of living and working in Ireland, but that fell through; I was having help on that end to find a job and a place to live but to no avail. I would've been happy as a live in au pair or a house sitter and a bartender, but the person who was helping didn't seemed to inclined to really "help" so it just became another dream, another disappointment.
I hate it when nothing goes according to plan.
I'm trying to find work and it's not working. I'm stressed to the point of breaking. I'm on the verge of tears all the time. I get home from school and want nothing more than to sleep from 3pm until I have to get up the next day. My uncle (and aunt) where here a short time ago and my uncle adds to my stress... because I don't have a job. Well, duh. If I could get one, at this point, don't ya think I would? It's always on my mind and having it in my face doesn't help.
I worry about EVERYTHING. ALL the time. Sometimes I think it would be easier to crawl into the deep dark recesses of my mind and think about what it would be like to not have to worry about it all, and what I could do to make life easier for everyone, self included, eventually. Those thoughts aren't usually good. I feel like an inmate who's been left in charge of the asylum.
This isn't where I wanted to be or who I want to be. Sometimes, though, a person just doesn't have any means to control... anything.
Mags
Sunday, April 18, 2010
A bit melancholy this morning
Mac seemed to have a great time at the Prom. He looked so grown up and dashing in his tux. I mean, he looked really REALLY grown up. I can see why the girls think he's a cutie. Okay, so I'm his mother and I'm biased but really, he was looking really cute. And grown up.
And since I have this ADD brain* the path I took was...
He's growing up and next year he's going to university and then law school. He's not going to hang out this me or stay at home with his 'old' mom all the time. Because he'll be at school doing grown up things that boys do in school; hopefully that will also involve lots of studying....
And he'll meet some woman and get married and have his own family.
Or he'll be as screwed up as I am about love and relationships and he'll just shag everything in a skirt and marry his job and have lots of money and jet around the world spending it frivolously.
Either way, he won't be hanging out with his mother, who will be old and alone. Well, not so old; I won't be 40 before he goes to college. My point is, he won't be at home with me.
Frankly, then, that means a huge part of my life is coming to a close and what the hell am I going to do now?
Daddy-O, I'm not killing you off, no matter what the employees at Hobby Lobby think (we were looking at vases and saying how nicely they could be turned into urns for him when he died, and we got some strange looks...anyway) and as we were talking the other day, we are both closer to death than, well, not death. I mean, you're almost 65 so you're not going to be here forever. And I'm staring at 40-- someday-- shit, someday soon!
And I'm going to be alone. I've said for a good many long years now I was a person who was meant to be alone. I never figured I would have a relationship that would amount to much, or that I've played all the loved cards I was dealt, or that I'm not the marrying kind. Hell, even if I could find a man, I think I'm too old for him to want to marry me, even if said hypothetical relationship should ever happen... (We all know I'm a bum magnet. Nothing good comes of me dating other than disasters that make for excellent blog fodder.) Really, who would WANT to marry me?
But I never really thought of what alone meant, and how alone that really really is. Mac is going to do something astounding with himself. I can feel it in my bones. He has enough of my wanderlust in him so he'll make home wherever he is. But he will be an adult. Daddy-O will die and I'll be really alone.
When I think of alone like that, it's really REALLY alone.
Even if I'm an atheist, can I still be a nun and join some sort of sister cloister thingy? I could fake it........ right?
All Hail the Big Three (of course I mean Prada, Dolice, and Gabana),
Sister Mary Maggie Mae, patron saint of shoes..... and lost cause romances
*I would like to point out that at the beginning of this post I warned you I was going to take you on a trip through my ADD brain.... you WERE warned. Geez!
And since I have this ADD brain* the path I took was...
He's growing up and next year he's going to university and then law school. He's not going to hang out this me or stay at home with his 'old' mom all the time. Because he'll be at school doing grown up things that boys do in school; hopefully that will also involve lots of studying....
And he'll meet some woman and get married and have his own family.
Or he'll be as screwed up as I am about love and relationships and he'll just shag everything in a skirt and marry his job and have lots of money and jet around the world spending it frivolously.
Either way, he won't be hanging out with his mother, who will be old and alone. Well, not so old; I won't be 40 before he goes to college. My point is, he won't be at home with me.
Frankly, then, that means a huge part of my life is coming to a close and what the hell am I going to do now?
Daddy-O, I'm not killing you off, no matter what the employees at Hobby Lobby think (we were looking at vases and saying how nicely they could be turned into urns for him when he died, and we got some strange looks...anyway) and as we were talking the other day, we are both closer to death than, well, not death. I mean, you're almost 65 so you're not going to be here forever. And I'm staring at 40-- someday-- shit, someday soon!
And I'm going to be alone. I've said for a good many long years now I was a person who was meant to be alone. I never figured I would have a relationship that would amount to much, or that I've played all the loved cards I was dealt, or that I'm not the marrying kind. Hell, even if I could find a man, I think I'm too old for him to want to marry me, even if said hypothetical relationship should ever happen... (We all know I'm a bum magnet. Nothing good comes of me dating other than disasters that make for excellent blog fodder.) Really, who would WANT to marry me?
But I never really thought of what alone meant, and how alone that really really is. Mac is going to do something astounding with himself. I can feel it in my bones. He has enough of my wanderlust in him so he'll make home wherever he is. But he will be an adult. Daddy-O will die and I'll be really alone.
When I think of alone like that, it's really REALLY alone.
Even if I'm an atheist, can I still be a nun and join some sort of sister cloister thingy? I could fake it........ right?
All Hail the Big Three (of course I mean Prada, Dolice, and Gabana),
Sister Mary Maggie Mae, patron saint of shoes..... and lost cause romances
*I would like to point out that at the beginning of this post I warned you I was going to take you on a trip through my ADD brain.... you WERE warned. Geez!
Sunday, March 21, 2010
How can I have the weekend blahs?
You ever have so much going on in your head you can't find your sense of humor, or at least for very long?
I shouldn't let all this shit rent space in my head but I do.
And for the last 7-10 days I've been experiencing something new- anxiety attacks. First time it happened I thought I was having a freaking heart attack and I would've been pissed if I had one at age 38 and my ex husband who is older, meaner, fatter and far uglier didn't have one first.
That all being said, yesterday was tons of fun because Daddy-O and Curley and I did a shopping at craft store day. I'm going to make a dress! Let me amend that; Curely is going to show me how to make a dress and then I'm going to do the second one by myself. Pictures will follow.
Other than a blow by blow of my weekend, which I'm sure isn't all that exciting to read (though props to Curley's Son, the King of Computers, for doing some super fun, cute things to my machine!!!! he so rocks! Kisses to King of computers!) I really don't have anything to add.
I think I need to go do something crazy and see if it generates some material. As soon as I come up with something I can afford, I'll get right on that.
Oh, wait! While Mac hasn't decided what to sing for Spring Spec, I guess at the pep session at his school on Friday, he rapped "Jump On It" in front of the entire student body to rev up the crowd and got a standing ovation. Wish I could've seen that!
So, have a good night, and tomorrow will bring another attempt to post. I'm sure I'll come up with something, right?
Mags
I shouldn't let all this shit rent space in my head but I do.
And for the last 7-10 days I've been experiencing something new- anxiety attacks. First time it happened I thought I was having a freaking heart attack and I would've been pissed if I had one at age 38 and my ex husband who is older, meaner, fatter and far uglier didn't have one first.
That all being said, yesterday was tons of fun because Daddy-O and Curley and I did a shopping at craft store day. I'm going to make a dress! Let me amend that; Curely is going to show me how to make a dress and then I'm going to do the second one by myself. Pictures will follow.
Other than a blow by blow of my weekend, which I'm sure isn't all that exciting to read (though props to Curley's Son, the King of Computers, for doing some super fun, cute things to my machine!!!! he so rocks! Kisses to King of computers!) I really don't have anything to add.
I think I need to go do something crazy and see if it generates some material. As soon as I come up with something I can afford, I'll get right on that.
Oh, wait! While Mac hasn't decided what to sing for Spring Spec, I guess at the pep session at his school on Friday, he rapped "Jump On It" in front of the entire student body to rev up the crowd and got a standing ovation. Wish I could've seen that!
So, have a good night, and tomorrow will bring another attempt to post. I'm sure I'll come up with something, right?
Mags
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Revenge of the Music God
Saturday I was driving home from spending the day in Northern Civilization at Half Price Books and since Mac and I have been sharing my car, I've found my CDs end up in a pile. I hadn't listened to a CD for a long time. I found a bunch that had been burned- no labels & not titles of course- so I thought I would just play musical surprise and pop them in to see what was on there. And it sure was a surprise! I haven't burned a CD since summer 2007 so all these blank ones were before that.
And what a schmaltzy mess I found. That's when I decided the God of Music was a man because if she were a woman I wouldn't have had this bizarre conglomeration of music we could call "Remember all the Men in your Life set to Music"!
And right now, we're not going to examine my head space- we can armchair psychoanalyze me later. That's not a good idea now... I have some thoughts but right now, let's not. Let's just check out these tunes.
First I had "Thank you for Loving Me" by Bon Jovi. This is a special memory song with a Sam from many years ago. He actually proposed to me and I said no. Anyway, he was a DJ part time, for wedding receptions and other events. One night he was doing a wedding reception and he invited me to go and help and I did. We actually were both friends of the bride and I had been invited to the wedding so I was really there as a guest. This was on the bride's play list and when he played it, he took me in his arms and we danced on the stage in front of everyone and he sang this to me. Another time we were out at a karaoke bar and he sang this to me (and he is GOOD, and can really SING!), bringing me up on stage and serenading me.
Not kidding, the next song that popped up when I hit random was the song "God Bless the Broken Road" by Rascal Flats. That belonged to a Sam I dated the summer before I moved to the Wild West. Well, we didn't start dating, we were just VERY good friends (he's a memory I want to explore mentally and might write out sometime), but on July 4, 2006 this song played and he declared his love for me... we were both drunk. But after that night, it became our song. That relationship ended REALLY badly... I wanted AlaskaSam and he wanted some chick in Philly but we cared for each other... yeah, how many ways can you spell Fucked up? The day I was leaving for the Wild West, he sent me this song in an email. I still think of him just a little bit fondly when I hear it. He's one that I should hate but don't, oddly enough. Guess we all make mistakes.
The next disc played the song "Josephine" by the Wallflowers. At this point I'm laughing, rather than crying, and thinking "Are you freaking kidding me?" as the music spilled through the speakers. Some of you might remember this... when I lived in the Wild West I met a Cowboy Sam. And while I'm being a melancholy schlaub I want to say that at the end of our first date... well, around 6:30 a.m. I got of CowboySam's bed (yep I broke the cardinal rule but since it turned into a 5 month stand rather than the one night kind it wasn't a bad call... and I learned my lesson thank you very much!) and went home in the dark and cold, listening to the song "Josephine" (by the Wallflowers) on the radio. And bam- on Saturday- there it was on the CD! Ah, memories. And it's a pretty obscure song that kept haunting us though our relationship. It was on the radio a few times when we went out and the one and only time we watched VH1 together it was on.
Okay, this was a good one that made me smile. You know the song "You're Beautiful" by James Blunt? Well, there was a woman who sort of had a crush on me (yeah she's gay), and if I were to play for that team we could say I had a Girl Crush on her, too. So right before I went to the Wild West I found out that this song and her and me were all sorta linked. Yeah... she's hot. But taken. *a-hem!*
And I swear I must have had a CD that I should've called "AlaskaSam." He and I actually have a huge list of "us" songs and I already shared our "In the Wee Small Hours" last week, I thought I would pick something else. There are waaaaaaaaaaay to many stories about each of these songs to try and explain them all. And they all played in a row. Wonder what was happening in my head when I made that damn CD, eh? So, here's "Full of Grace" by Sarah McLachlan". The story with this one is that he moved to Alaska and I didn't go. The first winter he was there was REALLY miserable for both of us. I sent him the lyrics to this song in an email one dark and dreary night. Apparently, at the same time I was sending him that email he was writing one to me with this an audio wave file attached- of this song. We have always been connected in an ethereal way.
This is another song that's us. Just take my word for it, okay?
I was trying to decide if I should chuck the CDs out the window one at a time or hang on to them or use them as coasters or what. I mean, really? REALLY? What sort of weird crap was going on there? I think of the dozen songs I played only 3 had nothing to do with men. Almost downright cruel. But in a weird way, it was funny. It was.
By the end of the car ride (I thought I was never going to get home!) I thought this song probably was more apt to describe me than anything else at this point!
Now go listen to some music, okay?
Melancholy Mags
And what a schmaltzy mess I found. That's when I decided the God of Music was a man because if she were a woman I wouldn't have had this bizarre conglomeration of music we could call "Remember all the Men in your Life set to Music"!
And right now, we're not going to examine my head space- we can armchair psychoanalyze me later. That's not a good idea now... I have some thoughts but right now, let's not. Let's just check out these tunes.
First I had "Thank you for Loving Me" by Bon Jovi. This is a special memory song with a Sam from many years ago. He actually proposed to me and I said no. Anyway, he was a DJ part time, for wedding receptions and other events. One night he was doing a wedding reception and he invited me to go and help and I did. We actually were both friends of the bride and I had been invited to the wedding so I was really there as a guest. This was on the bride's play list and when he played it, he took me in his arms and we danced on the stage in front of everyone and he sang this to me. Another time we were out at a karaoke bar and he sang this to me (and he is GOOD, and can really SING!), bringing me up on stage and serenading me.
Not kidding, the next song that popped up when I hit random was the song "God Bless the Broken Road" by Rascal Flats. That belonged to a Sam I dated the summer before I moved to the Wild West. Well, we didn't start dating, we were just VERY good friends (he's a memory I want to explore mentally and might write out sometime), but on July 4, 2006 this song played and he declared his love for me... we were both drunk. But after that night, it became our song. That relationship ended REALLY badly... I wanted AlaskaSam and he wanted some chick in Philly but we cared for each other... yeah, how many ways can you spell Fucked up? The day I was leaving for the Wild West, he sent me this song in an email. I still think of him just a little bit fondly when I hear it. He's one that I should hate but don't, oddly enough. Guess we all make mistakes.
The next disc played the song "Josephine" by the Wallflowers. At this point I'm laughing, rather than crying, and thinking "Are you freaking kidding me?" as the music spilled through the speakers. Some of you might remember this... when I lived in the Wild West I met a Cowboy Sam. And while I'm being a melancholy schlaub I want to say that at the end of our first date... well, around 6:30 a.m. I got of CowboySam's bed (yep I broke the cardinal rule but since it turned into a 5 month stand rather than the one night kind it wasn't a bad call... and I learned my lesson thank you very much!) and went home in the dark and cold, listening to the song "Josephine" (by the Wallflowers) on the radio. And bam- on Saturday- there it was on the CD! Ah, memories. And it's a pretty obscure song that kept haunting us though our relationship. It was on the radio a few times when we went out and the one and only time we watched VH1 together it was on.
Okay, this was a good one that made me smile. You know the song "You're Beautiful" by James Blunt? Well, there was a woman who sort of had a crush on me (yeah she's gay), and if I were to play for that team we could say I had a Girl Crush on her, too. So right before I went to the Wild West I found out that this song and her and me were all sorta linked. Yeah... she's hot. But taken. *a-hem!*
And I swear I must have had a CD that I should've called "AlaskaSam." He and I actually have a huge list of "us" songs and I already shared our "In the Wee Small Hours" last week, I thought I would pick something else. There are waaaaaaaaaaay to many stories about each of these songs to try and explain them all. And they all played in a row. Wonder what was happening in my head when I made that damn CD, eh? So, here's "Full of Grace" by Sarah McLachlan". The story with this one is that he moved to Alaska and I didn't go. The first winter he was there was REALLY miserable for both of us. I sent him the lyrics to this song in an email one dark and dreary night. Apparently, at the same time I was sending him that email he was writing one to me with this an audio wave file attached- of this song. We have always been connected in an ethereal way.
This is another song that's us. Just take my word for it, okay?
I was trying to decide if I should chuck the CDs out the window one at a time or hang on to them or use them as coasters or what. I mean, really? REALLY? What sort of weird crap was going on there? I think of the dozen songs I played only 3 had nothing to do with men. Almost downright cruel. But in a weird way, it was funny. It was.
By the end of the car ride (I thought I was never going to get home!) I thought this song probably was more apt to describe me than anything else at this point!
Now go listen to some music, okay?
Melancholy Mags
*and remember, these are here for the MUSIC not because I necessarily like the videos, okay?*
Saturday, January 16, 2010
The Pen is Mightier Than the Sword
A pen. A mere writing implement. A pen and what it can do... a simple devise but the power it welds is amazing. A pen is so important that banks and other government offices chain them to desks and counters. Students take notes with a pen.
A simple pen. Did you know Anne Frank considered her pen her best friend, since she could use it to write in her infamous diary and record all her thoughts and dreams, her fears and desires? She even called her pen a Special Friend and wrote an ode to the pen in her diary.
A pen is also used in the one of my favorite movies of all times, Say Anything. Diane Court gave Lloyd Dobbler a pen when she broke up with him and later in the film he said,, "I gave her my heart and she gave me a pen." And in the next to last scene of the movie, Diane gives her father, who is in prison, a pen and tells him to write to her.
A pen can be simple or fancy. Johnny Depp is one of the spokesmen for Mont Blanc, a fountain pen that can cost hundreds of dollars used by the rich, famous and powerful. There are stick Bic pens that are 10 for $1. There's my favorite pens which are Pilot V Razor Points, an 8 pack in a variety of colors for $10.
The pen makes everyone equal. It can be a poison pen or a kind one. Think of the quill and ink that Shakespeare used to scribe all his famous plays and poems. Anyone can scratch a list on a napkin or paper sack, address an envelope, write a letter or in a journal, or sign a contract. Pens can be used by a jailhouse lawyer to write out pleas, the famous authors can scribe the Great American Novel, or even the most common of us can write a poem, or record a whimsical thought while gazing out a window.
History has been recorded because of the power of the pen. The pen allowed soldiers to send thoughts and emotions across oceans and countries, carrying their thoughts and fears and news on the front. And those back home could send thoughts and prayers and well wishes in return. There are books of letters from soldier and those at home collected together... letters that survived as pen to paper thoughts, still recorded for all because of the magic ability to commit words to paper. Love letters between Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon, and Napoleon and Josephine have survived hundreds of years, letting us, even now, in on their romance. Oral tradition was replaced by the written word and ideas melted onto paper as the words flowed.
And now, we have computers, technology. The keyboard is replacing the beloved pen, the former best friend of the writer. Out with the old and in with the new... and now many say good bye to the beloved pen. But not me. I keep my trusty pen with me. While enjoy using my keyboard, my pen will be my own forever friend...
Pen in hand,
Maggie
A simple pen. Did you know Anne Frank considered her pen her best friend, since she could use it to write in her infamous diary and record all her thoughts and dreams, her fears and desires? She even called her pen a Special Friend and wrote an ode to the pen in her diary.
A pen is also used in the one of my favorite movies of all times, Say Anything. Diane Court gave Lloyd Dobbler a pen when she broke up with him and later in the film he said,, "I gave her my heart and she gave me a pen." And in the next to last scene of the movie, Diane gives her father, who is in prison, a pen and tells him to write to her.
A pen can be simple or fancy. Johnny Depp is one of the spokesmen for Mont Blanc, a fountain pen that can cost hundreds of dollars used by the rich, famous and powerful. There are stick Bic pens that are 10 for $1. There's my favorite pens which are Pilot V Razor Points, an 8 pack in a variety of colors for $10.
The pen makes everyone equal. It can be a poison pen or a kind one. Think of the quill and ink that Shakespeare used to scribe all his famous plays and poems. Anyone can scratch a list on a napkin or paper sack, address an envelope, write a letter or in a journal, or sign a contract. Pens can be used by a jailhouse lawyer to write out pleas, the famous authors can scribe the Great American Novel, or even the most common of us can write a poem, or record a whimsical thought while gazing out a window.
History has been recorded because of the power of the pen. The pen allowed soldiers to send thoughts and emotions across oceans and countries, carrying their thoughts and fears and news on the front. And those back home could send thoughts and prayers and well wishes in return. There are books of letters from soldier and those at home collected together... letters that survived as pen to paper thoughts, still recorded for all because of the magic ability to commit words to paper. Love letters between Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon, and Napoleon and Josephine have survived hundreds of years, letting us, even now, in on their romance. Oral tradition was replaced by the written word and ideas melted onto paper as the words flowed.
And now, we have computers, technology. The keyboard is replacing the beloved pen, the former best friend of the writer. Out with the old and in with the new... and now many say good bye to the beloved pen. But not me. I keep my trusty pen with me. While enjoy using my keyboard, my pen will be my own forever friend...
Pen in hand,
Maggie
Thursday, December 31, 2009
What a New Year's Eve post is supposed to be? Maybe.
Mac just said to me, "This is the first decade I've lived entirely through. That's pretty cool." Oh yes my son, it certainly is.
I guess this is the post where I should reflect on the year that just ended. I'm torn because this has been a rough year and for those of you who do follow me here know it. I could be tongue in cheek and post about the year, or take a maudlin approach and share. I could always "go for the funny." I know good things have happened this year but it seem easy to get weighed down by the sad and the rough and tough times.
Maybe I could summarize the decade? Take Mac's approach instead? I went to Europe. I moved to another state to live out a life long dream. I had a chance to teach. My son lived with me, then didn't, then did again, then did and now is again. (each "didn't" is when he chose to go to his father's). I had good relationships that all failed. I had bad relationships that all failed. I reconnected with a past lover and my soul mate-- and lost him again. I learned to love the city. And I learned to love the country. I like quiet but I want to make noise. I drank way to much. I stopped drinking. I smoked a little, but I stopped. I went to Hawaii. I went away but I came home. I started the decade as part of a couple and will end it alone. I fell in, and out of, love. I was lost but I found my way back. I started blogging. I took lovers. I learned to cook decadent foods, and discovered I liked it. I had a couple great jobs, and some not so great. I branded cattle and rode horses. I made new friends, and lost some others. I gained weight and lost it and gained it back-- hell, I have no idea where I stand with that battle. I write. I learned to quilt. I learned to hate winter. I've been sick, but I'm better. People died but I went on living. I had lots of fun, but sometimes I didn't, but I always learned something along the way. Not bad for 10 years and being almost forty. Who know what I'll do in the next ten?
Being all introspective, retrospective, all those spective-s, got me thinking about a favorite piece of music. This is one of my all time favorite pieces of music in the world: Pachelbel Canon in D Major. I want to apologize to a Sam of mine because I sent him an email about this song, so I steal from that correspondence. "Canon in D Major" is one of my favorite pieces of music ever. Ever. It's perfect. If anything in this world can be perfection, it's that piece of music. If beauty has a sound, it floats on the notes of this. This song touches a part of me I never knew, it's like air; I need this piece of music like I need to breathe.
Happy New Year to you all. I wish you peace, joy, happiness, serendipity, and much good stuff. Mostly I hope you all find what you're looking for, what you need, what you want.
Respectfully yours,
Maggie Mae O'Sullivan, 2009
I guess this is the post where I should reflect on the year that just ended. I'm torn because this has been a rough year and for those of you who do follow me here know it. I could be tongue in cheek and post about the year, or take a maudlin approach and share. I could always "go for the funny." I know good things have happened this year but it seem easy to get weighed down by the sad and the rough and tough times.
Maybe I could summarize the decade? Take Mac's approach instead? I went to Europe. I moved to another state to live out a life long dream. I had a chance to teach. My son lived with me, then didn't, then did again, then did and now is again. (each "didn't" is when he chose to go to his father's). I had good relationships that all failed. I had bad relationships that all failed. I reconnected with a past lover and my soul mate-- and lost him again. I learned to love the city. And I learned to love the country. I like quiet but I want to make noise. I drank way to much. I stopped drinking. I smoked a little, but I stopped. I went to Hawaii. I went away but I came home. I started the decade as part of a couple and will end it alone. I fell in, and out of, love. I was lost but I found my way back. I started blogging. I took lovers. I learned to cook decadent foods, and discovered I liked it. I had a couple great jobs, and some not so great. I branded cattle and rode horses. I made new friends, and lost some others. I gained weight and lost it and gained it back-- hell, I have no idea where I stand with that battle. I write. I learned to quilt. I learned to hate winter. I've been sick, but I'm better. People died but I went on living. I had lots of fun, but sometimes I didn't, but I always learned something along the way. Not bad for 10 years and being almost forty. Who know what I'll do in the next ten?
Being all introspective, retrospective, all those spective-s, got me thinking about a favorite piece of music. This is one of my all time favorite pieces of music in the world: Pachelbel Canon in D Major. I want to apologize to a Sam of mine because I sent him an email about this song, so I steal from that correspondence. "Canon in D Major" is one of my favorite pieces of music ever. Ever. It's perfect. If anything in this world can be perfection, it's that piece of music. If beauty has a sound, it floats on the notes of this. This song touches a part of me I never knew, it's like air; I need this piece of music like I need to breathe.
Happy New Year to you all. I wish you peace, joy, happiness, serendipity, and much good stuff. Mostly I hope you all find what you're looking for, what you need, what you want.
Respectfully yours,
Maggie Mae O'Sullivan, 2009
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Distractions
Every time I watch the Lifetime Network (which is like, twice a year and usually because I can't find the remote control or because I'm drunk and can't find the remote) I always have an urge to write a post about how stupid this network actually it, and how much I despise their boring and stupid programming.
I know I have an urge to do this because I had written almost a whole post about it and I felt "I've done this before" and I searched the archives of my blog and lo and behold, I had done it before. Goes to show that the Lifetime Movie Network sucks and inspires writing about its suckage.
So now I have no idea what to blog about. I am not kidding. I'm sitting here staring at the screen, scrolling through other people's blogs, trolling for a glimmer of an idea. I'm looking at my old posts for inspiration. I'm gawking around the house looking for a writing trigger, and I can't think of anything.
Okay, I can think of things but my mind won't focus on what I want to say about particular topics. I think I have writers' block.
I think if I had a Krispy Kreme donut I would feel better but Mac ate the last one and then he left the empty box on the table, which made me want to smack him with the empty box while he slept but for some reason, I think it would be anti-climatic when he rolled over and shooed me away like I was a buzzing gnat. I can't believe he ate the last one. Damn. It's not like they're fresh; we have to get them at Kroger, pre boxed, but still, they're good. Brat.
I think I'm distracted by the sunshine. We haven't had any sunshine for about ten days and now it's out. Completely distracting. It makes the whole snowy world sparkle like diamonds. OOOOOO, very Edward Cullen skin-like, but better. Oh and I don't think the sunshine will melt the snow because it's still just about 14 degrees. But it's rather pretty. I do feel sorry for the mailman who is currently leaving mail in the mailbox and looks frozen and Popsicle like.
I'll be back when I'm less distracted. Have a nice Tuesday!
Maggie
I know I have an urge to do this because I had written almost a whole post about it and I felt "I've done this before" and I searched the archives of my blog and lo and behold, I had done it before. Goes to show that the Lifetime Movie Network sucks and inspires writing about its suckage.
So now I have no idea what to blog about. I am not kidding. I'm sitting here staring at the screen, scrolling through other people's blogs, trolling for a glimmer of an idea. I'm looking at my old posts for inspiration. I'm gawking around the house looking for a writing trigger, and I can't think of anything.
Okay, I can think of things but my mind won't focus on what I want to say about particular topics. I think I have writers' block.
I think if I had a Krispy Kreme donut I would feel better but Mac ate the last one and then he left the empty box on the table, which made me want to smack him with the empty box while he slept but for some reason, I think it would be anti-climatic when he rolled over and shooed me away like I was a buzzing gnat. I can't believe he ate the last one. Damn. It's not like they're fresh; we have to get them at Kroger, pre boxed, but still, they're good. Brat.
I think I'm distracted by the sunshine. We haven't had any sunshine for about ten days and now it's out. Completely distracting. It makes the whole snowy world sparkle like diamonds. OOOOOO, very Edward Cullen skin-like, but better. Oh and I don't think the sunshine will melt the snow because it's still just about 14 degrees. But it's rather pretty. I do feel sorry for the mailman who is currently leaving mail in the mailbox and looks frozen and Popsicle like.
I'll be back when I'm less distracted. Have a nice Tuesday!
Maggie
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Potential Careers
I could be the cheese girl at a Bob Evan's meat and cheese kiosk in the mall. I could stand there and say "cheese?" to people as they walk by. Or, I could just take all the samples and wonder around the mall and do some shopping and have a little snack. But I think I would resort to teenage boy humor if I had to sell summer sausage. Heeheehee- I just typed 'sausage.' Hmmmm, moving on. Okay option number 2.
I could be a pirate. I think it would be a good way to loose weight what with scurvy and vomiting from seasickness all the time. And I could have a cool name like "Maggie the Pirate Wench". I look good in bandannas and I've always wanted to learn to sail and fish. I like Jimmy Buffett music, and rum. I could be a pretty good pirate. Okay, that stays on the list.
Sears Photographer. I like to take pictures and I've seen their equipment so I know any trained monkey could do it. But about the time I had some pre-schooler who refused to smile and his mommy says in a syrup voice, "widdle Jimmy is pretending to be mad", I would bonk both on the head with a random stuffed animal. And besides, if a trained monkey could do it, I would be out of a job in a few months anyway. Moving on...
Wal-Mart Greeter. I don't meet the age requirement. And do I really need to list about hating people, animals, small children, old people and Wal-Mart in general. Na-da- off the list. What else?
Black jack dealer- now I think I could be good at this. I would like the booze and the tips and the mob. I've never been to Vegas before! I would NOT like the math involved. I can't add that quick, even to 21 if I'm under pressure. And I couldn't work for anyone called a 'Pit Boss'; that's too much like pitbull. Ewwww. And we don't have blackjack anywhere near here anyway. Unless I could do something like this in private, in Daddy-O's basement... Hmmmmm. I'll move this to the 'maybe' column.
Missionary. I like to travel and I like to help people. It provides free room and board. I do have a passport. But there is that one little issue about God. That could provide a problem. And I could get sent to a country at war or with no indoor plumbing. Nope. Cross it off; I can't pee outside and I know I couldn't pee outside if people were shooting at me.
Bounty Hunter. I like this in theory, metaphorically, and in a literary sense. Otherwise, I would suck because I'm scared of being hurt, of guns, of being hit, dying, having people shoot at me, and anything else that could go wrong. It would be nice to have a sidekick and have people be afraid of me.
that's all I got. Any other suggestions?
Fuck Career Builders,
Maggie the Pirate Wench
I could be a pirate. I think it would be a good way to loose weight what with scurvy and vomiting from seasickness all the time. And I could have a cool name like "Maggie the Pirate Wench". I look good in bandannas and I've always wanted to learn to sail and fish. I like Jimmy Buffett music, and rum. I could be a pretty good pirate. Okay, that stays on the list.
Sears Photographer. I like to take pictures and I've seen their equipment so I know any trained monkey could do it. But about the time I had some pre-schooler who refused to smile and his mommy says in a syrup voice, "widdle Jimmy is pretending to be mad", I would bonk both on the head with a random stuffed animal. And besides, if a trained monkey could do it, I would be out of a job in a few months anyway. Moving on...
Wal-Mart Greeter. I don't meet the age requirement. And do I really need to list about hating people, animals, small children, old people and Wal-Mart in general. Na-da- off the list. What else?
Black jack dealer- now I think I could be good at this. I would like the booze and the tips and the mob. I've never been to Vegas before! I would NOT like the math involved. I can't add that quick, even to 21 if I'm under pressure. And I couldn't work for anyone called a 'Pit Boss'; that's too much like pitbull. Ewwww. And we don't have blackjack anywhere near here anyway. Unless I could do something like this in private, in Daddy-O's basement... Hmmmmm. I'll move this to the 'maybe' column.
Missionary. I like to travel and I like to help people. It provides free room and board. I do have a passport. But there is that one little issue about God. That could provide a problem. And I could get sent to a country at war or with no indoor plumbing. Nope. Cross it off; I can't pee outside and I know I couldn't pee outside if people were shooting at me.
Bounty Hunter. I like this in theory, metaphorically, and in a literary sense. Otherwise, I would suck because I'm scared of being hurt, of guns, of being hit, dying, having people shoot at me, and anything else that could go wrong. It would be nice to have a sidekick and have people be afraid of me.
that's all I got. Any other suggestions?
Fuck Career Builders,
Maggie the Pirate Wench
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