… And Some Things Don’t Change
My ears are bleeding right now. I’m in Panera and forgot my headphones. While I’m a fan of classical music… Not in subdued tones intermingled w/ idle chat from everyone around me. I’m distracted, but alas, I’ll try to get through this.
Tywone the Carryout Guy continues to make my weekly trips to the metro stop entertaining. The conversation we shared last week ranks high on the list:
“Did you meet my son?”
“Yes.”
“Wasn’t he polite toward you when he took your credit card? He called you Ma’am, right?
“Yes, he did.”
“I just want you to know that even though he’s only 10, I’m teaching him to be polite and treat women with respect.”
“How noble of you, Tywone “ (tinge of sarcasm)
Well, it’s important, and you should also know I’m not one of those guys who has a bunch of babymommas hanging around. I take care of my own and I’d take care of you.”
(sigh) “I do fine on my own Tywone, Nobody needs to take care of me.”
“Oh come on Erin, won’t you go out with me. We could go get some Daquiris or something…”
Flinch and eye roll. “Tywone, seriously… Do I LOOK like a girl who drinks fruity drinks and gets all giddy and giggly.”
“….I just failed again, didn’t I?”
“Yep.”
“Fuck. Aight, see you next week.”
I’m recounting this last exchange and there are so many things wrong here.
- Having your 10 year old son work with you at the metro stop where you primarily sell cigarettes and alcohol is not an ideal situation for me. While I make it a point to not sit in judgment of others, this is a discrepancy of character and values. Both of which are not negotiable on my part.
- I’m not a foregone conclusion. Suggesting we go out and drink fruity drinks categorizes me with every other woman you met in your life and have ascertained this is what women like to do.
- Proclaiming you only have a few children with different mothers– and thinking this is an attractive asset– only further demonstrates life and how we lead our lives are worlds apart.
At the risk of coming across as a complete and total bitch, I do have to admit I enjoy Tywone and his spirit. He throws it out there and is unabashedly unapologetic about it. I love seeing that kind of fire and confidence; Traits I have in myself but sometimes fall on the wayside in favor of something more subdued or practical.
I still don’t take him seriously, and I never will… but at least it makes me smile.
It’s Been a Summer of Firsts…
So, I’m here, after what has proven to be quite a long hiatus. It almost forget how to do this.
I have so much to say, but I fear my words might fail me now, so I suppose I’ll just start from the beginning.
I have always been accused of being random, and for the most part, I can’t argue with that description. I perhaps would prefer “whimsical,” but who wants to argue about adjectives that essentially mean the same thing? Proof of said randomness is my complete absorption in learning to crochet. I have no idea how this hobby manifested itself into my life, but I’ve become quite proficient in it and am proud I managed to teach it to myself. Why this is random is because I have absolutely no artistic skill. I’m not creative, artsy, or imaginative. What draws me in is each item I create is a tangible piece of me– my heart, my focus, my devotion and my pursuit to encapsulate the love and joy I have inside me into something beautiful. It meant the world to me when I could present my best friend with an intricate baby afghan for her first child. I put every ounce of skill and love I had into that blanket because that’s how important she is to me and to my life. The fact I could do this for her, to show her just how happy I am for her is priceless.
But, I digress- Jesus. This was NOT to be about me and crocheting.
Random…. Summer of Firsts… (wracking brain for earlier inspiration) Oh yes.. Here we go. After 8 years of living in various apartments, each of them having resort style pools, I finally started actually utilizing the pool. I find it relaxing to sit with a book (oh I started reading again… it’s been years) and only having to worry about flipping over every once in awhile. Why has it taken me so long to realize this luxury, you ask? Duh, I’m a woman– albeit successful and intelligent, I still have my bouts of insecurity and body image issues, and it is this fear of being seen publicly in a swimming suit amongst my neighbors that has kept me indoors.
One Sunday morning in the beginning of July, I woke up and as I gazed out at the warm vibrant sun, this voice came into my head. Dammit Erin, you are responsible for the way your body looks. You’re gonna have to choose what you’re going to do here. Are you going to do something about it, accept it, or hide from it? Make a choice. You did this to yourself, now fucking deal with it… Wait, what was that??? I found myself dumbfounded at this revelation, where did that come from?
It didn’t take me too long to think about it, I rushed and grabbed my suit, towel, book, ipod and lotion. It felt as if chains of fear had somehow become weakened, and I was free.
The same voice randomly popped into my head and has all but squelched my Diet Coke addiction. If there was one thing on this earth I could not live without, it would be Diet Coke. I’m sure if my veins were sliced open dark, bubbly Diet Coke would come pouring out. It is with me everywhere, readily accessible. It is my own personal heroin and I used to joke about how that first sip was like a needle to my vein. I still have some in the morning. Its the caffeine- I need it, yearn for it, and cannot function well without it. Otherwise water and taken its place. I used to drink over 40 oz of diet coke while at work… Now its 64 oz of water sometimes dosed with Crystal Light.
I mentioned previously I was reading again. Reading was a huge past time of mine. I relished receiving gift cards from borders or B&N. For whatever reason, I stopped; allowing TV to stimulate my mind instead of a good book. In my panic to get to the pool and look “occupied” on my lounge chair, I hastily grabbed a book given to me by my college roommate for my birthday last November… An exercise in digressing your reading level back to that of your childhood err Twilight. AHHHH! What had she done to me?!?! You have to understand, I usually don’t fall victim to mass pop culture movements. I don’t watch American Idol, 24, Lost, I haven’t read Harry Potter, Hollywood starlets make me want to gag, and don’t even get me started on reality TV. Regardless, I found myself A.DDICT.ED. I hungrily devoured it in 2 days and earnestly read the following 3 books as well as the unpublished “Midnight Sun” in 2 weeks. I hang my head in shame of this guilty pleasure, but it ignited a fire in me. It made me feel as I did when I was 15 and read Gone with the Wind. It took me weeks to recover from the emotional investment I had in that book, and I chased it with Ayn Rand’s Fountainhead. It took me a week to get Edward, Bella, and Jake out of my head, and I’m currently reading Cave Dweller which is definitely more up my alley. I guess I should just be happy I’m reading again.
I wonder what else this voice in me is going to prompt me to do. It already called on me to exercise today, which I did, after eating 3 rolos of course, because who can turn down rolos? Seriously, when’s the last time you’ve had a rolo? At any rate, I’m kinda excited. Completely random, I know, but I guess I don’t know how to be anything else.
Eveyone’s Irish Today
In honor of my namesake, I leave you a favorite Irish Jig from Who’s line is it anyway
Stories Like This Make My Life Interesting
My first relationship post-college was with a guy named Sam. Our relationship ebbed and flowed like most, but what made it so enjoyable was Sam was so damn funny. My favorite nickname for him was “mouthpiece” because he was so ornery and charming, he could talk himself out of any situation. To say he was the most comical person I ever met is an understatement. It wasn’t about how hard he could make me laugh, it was the ease at which he could do it. He naturally had a twinkle in his eye, an impish grin, and the power of perfect timing.
We didn’t see each other often due to conflicting work schedules, but the most memorable times I had with him were sitting up in his room, doing mindless things like watching the crocodile hunter at 2 AM while eating grapes. We would play king of the bed (get your mind out of the gutter, people) in which we’d wrestle and I would inevitably end up on the floor as “shark food.”
He also used to tease me about taking me back to his country home in the hills of West Virginia where we’d be married, I’d be barefoot and pregnant all the time and each of our 17 kids would have names derived from various versions of the name “Sam.” (i.e Sampson, Samantha, and my favorite, Samuela) He teased me about this, because, lets face it, I’m the furthest version of a barefoot/pregnant country girl with numerous children under foot.
After a year or so of dating off and on. Sam moved down South. We did not remain in touch, though the relationship ended amicably.
A few weeks ago while on facebook, I found Sam. It’s been close to 7 years since I saw him last. I looked at his friends list and recognized the some of the roommates he lived with while in Columbus. I looked at his photo, which was a side shot, but I saw the hands, the mouth and the eyes were all the same… Even the expression was all Sam.
So I friend-requested him along with a note saying, “Oh Lord. I just have to know if you have a daughter named Samuela as you used to threaten me with this name at night in bed. ”
A week or so goes by and then I see Sam has accepted my friend request. As I eagerly look at his page, I take a closer look at his photos and think, “hmm, Sam’s got some gray in his hair… As I continue to search through his profile, I see he has children…. And then I see it. “Graduated High school, 1975.”
Oh. My. God. I just friend-requested my ex-boyfriend’s dad, and mentioned the words “daughter’s name and bed.” Though completely harmless as described above, my note certainly implied something entirely different.
Even though I am 30 years old and am free to conduct myself in any manner I deem fit, I found myself writing Sam’s dad an email explaining why I had sent him the request… It started off with “Dear Mr. M—.” I can’t believe I, a grown woman, addressed him as “Mr.” It’s the shame talking, I swear.
Sam’s dad was kind enough to accept my apology and I have to think he got a little kick out of himself when he ended the email with Sam’s contact info and these last 2 words… ”Be Good.” Oh Oy.
Oh and those former roommates of Sam’s that were on the friend list… His cousins. So naturally they would be on uncle Sam’s list…
Well it took G’ma long enough
Yes, I started this last year 2 weeks after my father died (March) and have JUST NOW completed it.
In my previous post, I mentioned how I tend to be whimsical with my money in the absence of a project, so last year I decided to teach myself to crochet. Why? I have no idea. So I made 2 scarves and decided I was ready to start an afghan. Big mistake. I became bored with it. I resented it. I grew listless and impatient with each stitch and painstaking row that took a 1/2 hour of my life to complete.
Though it took a year, I have to say this is one endeavor I finally forced myself to complete. I tend to do that; take up something new, hit the ground running and allow it to consume me. I then grow tired and annoyed with it or it simply no longer interests me and I cast it aside or remove it from my stream of consciousness.
Hmmm. I think this is something I need to explore as I do this in just about every aspect of my life save my cat and my ability to stay employed. I guess that’s a good thing, but perhaps I need to examine what it is about committing to something that ultimately sends me running in the opposite direction. Is it fear of failure? Lack of challenge? Losing my ability to be impulsive? Losing control? Interesting……
A Break from my Hiatus
So yeah, my break was a little longer than anticipated… My December was a blur, per usual, followed by annoying cold/cough, a surprise trip to Arizona in January and then the past 6 weeks have been spent playing catch up.
But enough of the excuses– I feel like I did as a teenager when I used to apologize to my journal for my infrequent visits.
So here are some random musings and/or updates:
I don’t think I’m going to tell anyone I’m back to the proverbial page with my pen. If you find it, read it, like it, great. If not, oh well, I’m not writing it for you anyway.
My relationship with Tywone the carry out guy has gone to the next level. While he still doesn’t call me by my name, he now remembers my order and he asked me out to brunch. This reminds me of Matt Damon’s response in Good Will Hunting when Minnie Driver asks him out for coffee, and he suggests doing something more arbitrary instead, like eating caramels. Tywone seems undaunted by quiet refusals and laughed until he cried when I off-handedly compared myself to a number on a dart board. I am not naive enough to think he’s actually interested in me, but like every other female who passes through the metro stop, he throws his dart out in hopes it’ll land. I was quite honest in wanting to know his success rate, but he was unwilling to share.
2009 is faring much better than the beginning of 2008. At this time last year, I had nearly lost my job, my father had just died, my identity had been stolen, and I missed my LSAT test due to a car accident. This year so far I have been presented with 50 yard line tickets to the fiesta bowl, the rekindling of an old friendship, a promising trip to Vegas in April, and the feeling of being quietly content and at peace. I can’t complain.
I kinda like being 30. I feel more settled and confident, and I’m not exactly sure why. Perhaps I’m just more comfortable in my own skin and feel secure in the knowledge that I weathered the storm of 2008 relatively unscathed.
I like to believe I am self-aware, but it wasn’t until my mother pointed out my spending habits that I came to the realization I spend money in the absence of working on a project or having something constructive to do. I’ve managed to abstain from buying bedroom furniture, another coach purse, and other senseless incidentals during the dog days of winter. I miss being outside.
A random and persistent rash on my neck caused me to clean my house from top to bottom… Even down to washing my comforter, duvet and pillows due to the suggestion I may be allergic to down feathers. One thing I DON’T like about being 30— I now notice random chin hairs that require plucking, some grey hairs, my curly hair is relaxing a bit, and I have developed some random allergy to hair products/lotions and/or perfumes. The cause has yet to be determined, but rest assured, it is not down feathers. I would cry if I had to surrender my bed.
People who talk to excessively to their babies in public or in that high-pitched baby voice used to freak me out. Then I came home from work and as my cat came to greet me, I petted her and spoke to her in the same shrill voice. I asked her how her day was and if she’d destroyed anything in my absence…. I’m. Pathetic. (shakes head in shame) BUT in my defense, Yiddy the Kiddy does respond by meowing incessantly and it’s hilarious.
That’s enough for now.
Taking a Break
Sorry guys… I’m taking a break until after the holidays… Too much to do and too little time. I live you with one of my favorite Friends scenes.
Not Your Ordinary Billboard
As I was about to start this post, I was reminded of something my mother had asked while driving down to the beach this year. While I wasn’t riding with her, I also saw the numerous billboards along I-40 in North Carolina proudly and boldly announcing “Space Available.”
For any of you who know my mother, she doesn’t do well with literal interpretations. It does not surprise me in the least that she leaned over to the driver and said, “I keep seeing this signs saying ’space available’ but it doesn’t say where!” With that, Judy gave my mother a dubious stare and said, “Margaret, it means the billboard is available….
Duh. - But that’s why I love her… She’s just so darn cute she can get away with that kind of remark…
Now to the more serious part of my post. While driving downtown near my corporate offices, I saw this billboard.
I stopped my car and pulled into the parking lot, which is no small feat on Marconi Blvd. I stared… trying to figure out my reaction. I definitely felt an emotional stimulus, I just couldn’t put my finger on what it was I was experiencing. Sadness, Anger, Confusion, Conflict? I still don’t know, but left certain I just saw something powerful and prolific.
Upon arriving home, I went to The Other Paper which is my favorite news source in Columbus and I found this article. after which I went to here , and discovered there are several more soldiers faces on billboards in various cities around the country. If you click on the fallen soldier’s face it will pull up a mini-dossier on that particular soldier. Above the dossier are little rectangle boxes that, if clicked, bring up another soldier’s face, location of billboard and dossier.
Incredible. Genius. Bold.
I’m not one to be moved by art, but have to admit, like it or hate it, this is art in its purest form because it is creating strong intense reactions by those who view it.
Even after reading and doing some research on this project, I still don’t know how I feel about it. I know some close friends of mine would be down-right offended by this and I can see why, but I can also see something different. I see truth.. free from propaganda, political interference, marketing ploys, sensationalism…. just plain and raw in its most glorious beauty.
Springhill Vol. 1
I had an enchanted childhood. Just like many others, it was filled with scraped knees, blisters, bruises, mosquito bites and an occasional trip to the emergency room, but unlike others, I lived in a perfect little microcosm of 15 houses along a simple lane and cul-de-sac. In this quaint little neighborhood there was no thru-street; meaning if you didn’t live there, you were either visiting or lost.
We knew everyone in the neighborhood. It wasn’t until I was an adult that I realized it is unusual to have your insurance agent, dentist, surgeon, bank president, attorney and local school board member be your neighbors and friends. The parents were all friends and the children went from one house to another building forts, playing hide and go seek in the basement, flooding sandboxes, sled riding through pine trees, building ramps and playing foosball, air hockey, table tennis, or having water balloon fights, and sleep overs.
I was one of the youngest along with Karen, my best friend. We were the only girls of the group. While there were other girls in the neighborhood, they were considerably older and didn’t participate often. Being the youngest as well as being girls, Karen and I often found ourselves either excluded or fighting for survival (aka acceptance.) It didn’t help our older brothers loved to torment us.
One area we couldn’t gain access was the ultra-cool rock group, The Booby Brothers. I think I was 6 when I first learned of this secret club. The Booby brothers were awesome. Named after Bobby, they would get together in his basement and have rock concerts parodying current songs like “Paul Revere,” “Amadeus,” and “Walk Like an Egyptian.” They even had a lighting system with strings attached to all the light switches that were collected and tacked to a board. Each switch was even labelled.
Karen and I weren’t allowed to play. We were only aware of the songs because the guys would keep singing them and I stumbled upon the lighting system one day when Bobby and I were looking for his cat.
I honestly don’t know when the Booby Brothers broke up, and I haven’t thought of them in a long time… Until today, when I heard this song;
However, instead of it being “The Final Countdown,” it was “The Final Cream Puff.” I don’t remember the rest of the lyrics except for “The Bakeries are closing down…” as the initial lyric. I have now idea where “cream puff” came to fruition, but whatever.
It’s funny when I think of the Booby Brothers, it reminds me how simple life was in my little slice of utopia. While I love being an adult, there are times I miss being a child where my world was so small, It was an event to be able to ride my bike outside the confines of my neighborhood without parental supervision…
I heart Sheldon
I happened to catch the Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson on Friday night, and wouldn’t you know, Jim Parsons, (aka Sheldon) on my favorite sitcom, Big Bang Theory, was being interviewed. I have seen him before, but this is hilarious. It appears his character on the show is channeled by his inner geek. I love him.
