My Vision Isn't Too Good

It appears as though I may need glasses. I went to renew my license and the testing person at the vision center informed me after 4 attempts to get the top line right that I should go and have my eyes checked. I guess years and years of staring at computer screens may have done them in. I've always prided myself on the fact that I was the only member of my family to never need glasses. I know it may sound silly, but this is really bothering me. Feeling blind, which I see as weak. I never saw myself in glasses. I don't think I could ever physically put a contact in my eye. Coupled with the fact that I have no insurance and don't know the first place to go, I feel a little ick.

I'm not very happy today.

Emo-sha-kawns

Dear Blogger.com,

Please please please add emoticons to the setup, er... template, er...post creator. I feel lost without them and generic smilies just don't cut it sometimes. I know I could get creative and insert them into my blogs but that would require way too much time and effort and I'm a lazy person. Thank you.

Sincerly,

Ames

p.s. Please excuse any spelling errors because spell check doesn't work for me for some reason.

Frick Fracking BORED

Geez, work is slow, I'm pretty sure I've read all there is to read of any interset on the internet. And my kidneys hurt, maybe its my ovaries. Whatever something hurts down there.

B-O-R-E-D.

The Gym

Skits like this are likely to inspire people to go to the gym:

(Yes, I was looking for an excuse to post this pic. I love it, it makes me laugh, and I don't particularly care if it really has nothing to do with my post!)

Speaking of going to the gym, I find it an endless source of amusement. I guess you have to be a people-watcher to agree, but who isn't at least slightly amused after a good session of people watching?

It all begins in the parking lot. Everyone, including myself for some reason, is cruising for the best spot. Muscleheads, hard-bodied chicks, businessmen... they all have one thing in common. They don't want to have to walk too far to get to the gym. Yes, I know it is ironic and absurd and down right silly, but it's true! I have seen it, I have done it, I have laughed about it. For some reason, even though they are about to walk through the doors and sweat their asses off for an hour, they are determined to get a close parking spot. I think it must be proof of the predatory nature of humans. Getting that sought-after spot is like accomplishing a goal, and these people are winners, damnit!

Then you walk in and, in my gym anyway, there are rows and rows of machines. Occupied machines. They make me think of gerbils on wheels, the way they run in place, or go up/down up/down on the stairs all in a nice tidy row like that.

And there is always someone being a fool. Like the other night when there weren't many people around. Apparently this older man didn't realize that the fewer people there are in the gym, the more likely you are to be seen making a complete ass of yourself. He was spotting his friend when his "sawng" came on. I think it was Push It by Salt-n-Peppa. All I know is that he couldn't control himself. He was itching to move to the beat, and by God, he finally just let go and did it - while he was standing over his friend who was bench pressing a large amount of weight. It took all I had not to laugh out loud. I managed to keep quiet and just watch the show. He was even watching himself in the mirror, wiggling his ass and checking himself out. Of course, it all stopped when the song changed. But it was an entertaining few minutes, indeed!

I have also been witness to a few shameless pickup attempts. Men checking out women while they try to work out. Coming over to talk to them. Or vice versa. How stupid are these people? No one wants to receive that kind of attention while they are sweaty, smelly and disgusting. While we are in the process of making ourselves more desirable, we don't necessarily want to test our new look out now. The only man who ever starting trying to talk me up at the gym was a trainer. I think he just wanted me to swoon and sign up for lessons with him or something, so he could make money. I was polite, flashed the ring, and left. Haven't heard from him again. But still... I kind of love it when the failed pickups happen in my vicinity because it really makes me appreciate my situation. Ha!

Honestly, the gym isn't as bad as I had imagined. I figured it would be a bunch of buff people and chubby ole me, but that hasn't been the case. I have seen so many different types of people in there that it almost raises the self-esteem, not the other way around. There are skinny twig people, regular people like me, sporty people, muscle-bound people, fat people, etc. It's really kind of a cross-section of the public. That is a good thing... I'm glad I'm not paying to be intimidated by people! But I do have to hope, for the sake of some of those super skin and bones chicks that are there every time I am there, that they're trying to gain muscle and bulk themselves up, and not just run-of-the-mill anorexics or something sad like that.

Rest In Peace...

WHITAKER-Larry Don, age 57, died March 18, 2006. Survived by sons, Gainor, Cynric Whitaker; sisters, Carolyn "Kat" Mays, Marva Newsome; nieces, nephews; other relatives and friends.
VIEWING Thurs. 9 a.m. - 8 p.m. FUNERAL SERVICES Fri. 1 p.m. all at Myers Chapel. Private Family Interment. MYERS FUNERAL SERVICE


Uncle Don. A good man. Married to my Aunt Cookie, my Mother's sister. The marriage didn't last long. You were always so jovial. Kind to your sons, my first cousins, my best playmates growing up as kids. The fun we had. The games we made up and added rules to as we went along. Our black Santa Claus during holidays. You'd pick us up and take us to the movies. Get the biggest tub of popcorn and eat half of it. Always laughing. Always smiling. Even when you fell ill. Still full of laughter. I feel sad that I'm not there to help your sons get through this. The way they were there when my Dad died. I can only hope that they realize that they aren't alone. Mom will be there. Aunt Cookie will be there. Even if it is unfortunate that they don't speak anymore because of bullshit. But this isn't about them. The one thing you always taught us, although the lessons were always short is to enjoy life. Work hard. Live it to the fullest. There is no tomorrow. I really love my family. Sometimes it's hard growing up. You grow apart. But please don't think for one second that the love grows apart. In life, I can only hope that I am as good a Father as you were.

I love you Uncle Don.

Goodbye.

Your nephew,
Brucie

Pondering the Meaning of Life

So, what is the meaning of life?

Why are we here?

I love to talk about stuff like this, to hear different perspectives. I think my ideas about why and how we live change as I grow. Right now, I'm thinking life is to be used to learn as many lessons as we can from one another. I find it so amazing that I have relationships with some of you, people so amazing that I could have never imagined getting to know people like you through the internet. I am so stunned at how people find what they need, and who they need, at just the right time. I have gained so much by the experiences I've had with all the people in my life. I feel truly thankful to have met every person that has helped me learn about their perspective on the world.

Sometimes I think that life is just a journey of gaining knowledge... spiritual, historical, practical, all kinds of knowledge. And when you finally figure out the true meaning of life, that is your last moment. You die. As soon as you experience pure peace, acceptance of the state of the world, knowledge as to why things are the way they are, you are complete and ready for the next cycle.

Of course, that sounds crazy. It probably is crazy. It's just what I think right now, this minute of this day. I think that it's kind of a nice thought, that everyone I have known that has died has experienced a sort of "awakening" and that they have simply moved on to the next level. I'm really not sure if that's how it is, but it would be a grand way to go.

Godmother

Arg. I am a Godmother...to my cousin Jessica and my nephew Luis. I'm not sure what I was thinking when I decided to agree to this title. Both were baptized...Luis non-denom., Jessica Catholic. So for Luis my job for all God related things is pretty much done with thankfully. Jessica is going for her First Communion in a few months and I have to be there, and not just there but doing stuff. Say what? I honestly don't feel right doing this...I mean I'm not even sure what exactly I will be doing but I know I probably am not the right person to be doing it. I do believe in God, I do, honestly. But all this church stuff?? :S It makes me angry. Very angry. How can I sit there and stand next to her and do whatever thinking fuck this building and its money hungry ways. *watches for lightning*

Anyone know how I can get out of this?

About a boy

At the risk of being completely misunderstood, I have to say this.

I like this boy. I don't love this boy, I'm not, currently, lusting over this boy, fantasizing over this boy, or overly thinking of this boy, but, I like him. He's fun. I don't trust him, I don't get him, but I like him. It's fun. He's nice, we are completely able to talk, communicate, we laugh and I'm crazy and that's fine.

I don't want to play games. I'm not super interested, but I am interested. I'm not desperate for his attention, but the attention whore in me gets antsy when I'm not receiving it, sometimes. But mostly not.

I just don't want to play games. I'm interested in continuing communications and I'm curious to know if he is too, I mean I'll obviously figure this out if he stops contacting me and begins avoiding me. But that's not what I want. That won't satisfy me as it comes back to not trusting him. Not that at this point I need to trust him because I only slightly like him.

Slightly like him is somewhat insulting, I assume, because I'm sure if I read somewhere that he "slightly" liked me, I'd be all "Harumpffft" *crossed arms, stomped foot, pouted lip*. But, it's not like that. I just, I sort of don't care and I sort of do.

Do you understand?

Part of me is aching to say "Hey, I like you." But, as the first line in this says, I feel I'll be completely misunderstood.

I'm very blunt, very open, very honest, that's me, and mostly it works, it works well, I certainly wouldn't say I have any problem getting what I want, but, there is always the chance of saying too much. Recently I did this in a message to someone on MySpace, which is fine, because I think he'd've been far too much work anyways, but, I wanted him. He was cute and dirty and I'm in the mood for a dirty boy, but, alas, I said too much and instead of intriguing I must have come across desperate.

His loss as it goes.

Either way, there is no point to this, I guess, I'm jus sayin'. I can't remember what it's like to really like someone, like what it feels like when you just know, when you meet and inside you go "Fuck." But it's ok, this is good, it's fun, it's so non committal and that is exactly what I need going on for me right now.

I like having options.

Punch me, I'm Irish!

So, yes... I have been in a bar fight. Once. A few years ago, on St. Patty's day (of course) I had gone to the annual parade in downtown Lawrence, KS - my old college town. I was still in school at the time and my boyfriend (my old boyfriend, not the awesome man I have now) was visiting me from England. He was a Brit, and was completely confused as to why all us crazy Americans would celebrate St. Patrick's Day. He was also in the British army, so he had his own ideas about the Irish. However, I think he kind of got it after I explained to him that I was Irish, English and German... and that most everyone else in the U.S. had mixed heritage as well. Plus it's an excuse to drink all day, and that was really the only explanantion that he needed.

Anyhoo, we drank. A lot. We started at about 11:00 that morning when the parade began. By 8:00 that night, we were still drinking at this great little corner bar called the Replay. I love that place. We were also with my friend Kayla, who (at the time anyways) was a fabulous drunk. She was sure to black out every time you went out with her. On any given night, she may or may not have also needed someone to lug her like a sack of potatoes out to the car. (I swear, I have seen more than one of my friends throw her over their shoulder at the end of a long night, and carry her drunk ass off.)

So, obviously, Kayla was wasted. She was in retarded mode by that point in the evening. And she was "hitting on" a guy at the pinball machine. More like "slurring on" but whatever. She came back to the table and sat down with us. We all forgot about pinball guy and continued drinking and talking.

About 30 minutes later, a very tall, rail thin girl came over to our table randomly babbling about some ho and her boyfreind. Blah blah blah. We didn't know what the fuck she was going on about, but we were all basically trying to console her and get rid of her. She walked away, only to come back minutes later and get in Kayla's face. Apparently, pinball guy was her boyfriend and Kayla was the ho. At this point, Kayla was slumped over on the table, half passed out. So I stood up (mind you, I'm about 5'1" and this chick is 5'8" or so), faced the girl and told her that my friend didn't care about her skanky ass boyfriend. "Look at her!" I yelled, gesturing to the sleeping Kayla. "Does it look like she wants him right now?"

So how did the girl react? She spit. In. My. Face. I felt a wave of shock go through my entire system right before I blacked out a bit. I have heard the term "blind rage" before, but this was the only time I have ever experienced it myself. As soon as the spit hit my face, she ran. The rest of this story will be relayed to you as explained to me by my friends. I set my mug of beer down gently on the table. I wiped my face and looked at my hand in shock. And I took off running, right out of the bar. Looking for a tall, skinny bitch with long, straggly red hair. When I spotted her from behind, I jumped on her back. We were in the middle of the street. We rolled around with the basic catfight moves, pulling hair, using our nails, pounding each others heads into the street, etc. Somehow we made it to the sidewalk. A crowd gathered. My boyfriend had caught up to us, and he snatched the girl off of me. He held her, up against a wall, and told her that if she promised to leave me alone he'd let her go. All the while I was screaming bloody murder about kicking her ass while she was crying. She promised and he let her go. I let her get about a half a block away before I chased her down and tackled her again. This time I was the one who got held down while they let her make her escape.

The next day I felt like shit. Don't ever get into a barfight if you can help it. The facial bruising and scratching is not worth it. And it really is hard to live a story like that down.

However, I do know that when faced with the fight or flight reaction, I will not be a pussy. I will fight. For some reason, I think that's good.

Its Official

A full moon this week and people are idiots. Example:

"Hi, can I come in to your office and make a payment?"
"Yes, do you know our location?"
" Well it says you are on X & Y and I know where that is but its says your in Zcity, where is that?"

*record scratch*

Dude, if you know where the intersection is you know where the city is. Dumbasses.

I Just Helped To Make A Movie In 3 Days

For those that don't know, to make a feature length film in 3 days, is insane. Most feature length films take between 20-30 days to make. You aim for the ability to shoot about 3-5 pages of your script per day. Some friends of mine decided to be experimental to see if it could be done. The schedule was aggressive and crazy. We used 3 cameras to save on time. We worked 18 hours a day to get it done. I was fortunate to be able to operate one of those cameras. We shot on Mini-DV. I learned so much about lighting, camera use, and shot selection in 3 days. I worked with a great crew of people and some really down to earth actors. I really enjoy the camaraderie that comes about on film sets. It is so intense and it always amazes me how close you become to people in such a short amount of time. I hadn't been out there in weeks. I didn't realize just how much I missed it. There's something about being involved in creating something that is so rewarding. I know for a fact that I could never go back to the incredibly mundane world of cubicle hell. I'm happy for that.

It's great to be a filmmaker.

Bad Feeling

I had a dream this weekend that one of my neices/nephews drowned in a bathtub. I don't know which one cuz all you could see in the tub was their small child like back. Head completely submerged and when I went to pull them out their face was blurred or not even there. This morning I woke up thinking something bad is going to happen. Not little bad, but big bad. Not a I'm worrying too much kind of feeling, but a gut feeling.

I have plans tonight I can't get out of. I would much rather stay home and curl up in my bed with a book till this feeling goes away or the bad thing comes.

Speaking of books, I'm currently reading The Dive From Clausen's Pier. I picked it up because of the plot but also because it takes place in Wisconsin and I like to read books that take place in my home state. Either to say 'hey I know that place' or 'wow they are so off, do some research would ya?'. So far the book is mostly correct with its references to the state. Although the author refers to "us" as Wisconsinions. That word bugs me, its not easy to say, I find myself consentrating on all the i's and o's and how they look so out of place. The correct term people is Wisconsinite. I don't care if some almanac says otherwise, its Wisconsinites.



UPDATE...3 minutes after posting this I received an email from my "ex" ( I guess we can call him that even though we were never technically a couple, spent mass amounts of time together, sex, heartfelt talks, etc) telling me that his fiance left him. And took their daughter with her. Oy vay.

Remembering a friend...

Amber

We met
at Hardee’s on the turnpike
in matching
turquoise and magenta
visors and t-shirts.
We made
greasy work
fun.

We partied
in country fields.
I “weezed the juice”
from the slushy machine.
You kissed Cheryl
on the cheek.
The Kwik Shop clerk
called you lesbos.
We just laughed
and drove away.

Remember?

We cruised dirt roads,
smoked joints and learned
to fly
without wings.
We listened to cows
calling from the meadows
on dark, starry
summer nights.

You came to visit,
late September.
We got drunk
and stole pumpkins
at midnight.



***


I remember
your memorial;
pictures of you
choosing your wedding gown,
your short brown hair
in a crazy spike,
your smile was
ear to ear.


They dressed you
in pajamas;
stuffed animals
from your childhood
looked on
through glass eyes.
Jimmy Buffet played quietly.
Your purple bruises
revealed their truth
through the make-up.

I can still picture you:
telling a shocking story
just to freak me out
and then admitting
it wasn’t true…
your wacky sense of humor
and child-like laughter.
Your eyes always
crinkled at the corners
when you smiled.

Right Face, Wrong Time

Song lyrics in a blog, I know I know woo woo. However I have stumbled upon She Wants Revenge and my new favorite song I Don't Wanna Fall in Love. And no I'm not going to underline or put the song title in italics or whatever the proper way of doing things is. Behold:

I would like to tell you, I would like to say That I knew that this would
happen That things would go this way But I cannot deceive you, this was never
planned I know that you're the right girl but do you think that I am the right
man? 1...2...3...4,5,6,7, Right face wrong time, she's sweet (But I don't wanna
fall in love) Too late, so deep, better run cause (but I don't wanna fall in
love) Can't sleep, can't eat, can't think straight (I don't wanna) You say it's
not a problem, You say it's meant to be But love is not an option, our love is
never free And things are not so easy, so cold and we've been burned I know that
I'll have regrets but that's the price of one more lesson learned
1..2..3...4,5,6,7, Right face wrong time, she's sweet (But I don't wanna fall in
love) Too late, so deep, better run cause (but I don't wanna fall in love) Can't
sleep, can't eat, can't think straight (I don't wanna) (repeat)

This entire album is quite depressing actually and should not be listened to by a person is who is confused with their current relationship or lack there of. I can't tell you enough though how much the music it self fucking rocks. These depressing, moody, I hate you, I love you, I want to fuck your brains out songs are set to up beat almost house music like music. Download, buy it whatever you do w/music, but give it a listen. I'm sure there will be at least one song you will enjoy by them.

...

My brain is giant pile of mush this week and I feel the need to ramble but I'm not sure what about. I think I need to quit my job. Which sucks because if you were to take about 90% of the wome...excuse me...girls out of the establishment and replace them w/men over the age of 19 the job fucking rocks. I say 19 because if I would allow myself to date a 19 year old I have found the perfect one, and I think his ADD sans medication makes him even more attractive. Dark features, nice body--not overly musclely, piercings, great sense of humor and a touch of craziness. Where was I? Right, just me, a few other ladies whose company I do enjoy, lots of men and only welcome sexual comments. That would be the perfect work environment. Yes sir.

Why blog?

Someone has just asked me why I blog, what brought me to blogging and what did I hope to accomplish by blogging, questions that made me stop to think.

I'm hoping it's not all for vanity's sake.

I think I'm looking for friends, I'm looking for peers who think like me, and not think like me like, those with the same political views, same religious beliefs, people who are thankful for the resurgence of the colour kelly green, but those whose minds work like mine. Those who love words, who love to play with words, those who think in metaphors and while out walking their dogs spend the whole time running over sentences in their heads, playing with words, constantly thinking of new ways to say the same things, or new things, different things. Those that take sentences and enjoy playing with them, switching words around, trying to find how many different ways they can say the same thing, or how many of the same ways can they say different things. Everywhere I look, everything I see, hear, think, feel, transfers into stories, paragraphs, sentences that might only make sense to me, sentences you have to read slowly to understand. I suppose it has something to do with seeing the world through eyes of an artist, and I realize it’s incredibly bold of me to call myself an artist, but to be honest, I am. I am a writer. I think as a writer thinks. I feel as a writer feels. I lay down at night and have to consciously turn off the writer in my head. At times I fear my own insanity, I fear I’ve failed to get everything out, I fear I’ve got too much bottled up in there, stuff I’ve played over again and again but never with pen in hand and someone once told me it’s not gone, it sits in there, you think it and assume you’ve lost it, but no, it’s there, crowding space, I fear, waiting to explode. I wonder if my head could explode. I wonder if failing to write, failing to pick up that pen when I’m so comfy tucked in my blankets, cat curled in my sideways lap, will be the cause of my insanity. Is it normal to fear going insane?

So I suppose through blogging I hope to justify my thoughts, my feelings, my individuality, which makes no sense if I’m looking for others like myself, but it’s true. It makes sense. All the people I’m surrounded with here, in my real life, my 3D world, none of them are writers, none of them are artists, they get up in the morning, they brush their teeth, pour their coffee, head off on the road and go to work. They work their days and live their nights, back home, tv, partner, child, life, real life. They know me better than anyone but I figure they’ve given up trying to “get” me. I am unique in my group but desperate to find others like me, I don’t fear losing that uniqueness, that individuality because we all still remain different, I’d just love a conversation about something other than what’s immediately in front of us.

I blog to entertain myself, I blog to release some of the pressure inside my head, I blog because sometimes I feel I have some good stuff to say, I blog to not be alone but to still keep my aloneness intact, I blog to share.

Mainly I blog because of hope, hope that soon the flood gates will open and everything that’s wonderful, and stored inside, will come out.

A Rap And Roll Weekend

So Saturday was a very full day for me.

I decided to mix it up a bit and blend musical worlds. I dragged my unsuspecting girlfriend with me, not telling her at all what the day entailed.



I started off with a film, Dave Chappelle's Block Party. I had read a bit about it, known what the background was. Dave decided to throw a block party in Brooklyn, 2004. He gave away tickets, invited friends, and managed to get some of the most talented people in the music business to show up, minus ego. The film was thoroughly entertaining on many levels. For those expecting Chappelle to do Rick James/Lil' Jon/Prince or any other various characters, they were misinformed. This wasn't Chappelle Show. As Dave states, it's the concert that he always wanted to see. The documentary is a mix of comedy, music, thought, and militant expression.

I won't go into every single detail of the film. I'm not the biggest fan of reviews. I will state my opinion on how I felt. For me, as a fan of hip-hop music, real hip-hop, you cannot beat this film. Every performance is inspiring, uplifting, and a true treat for fans of the culture. Highlights include The Roots, with a special guest appearance by Big Daddy Kane, Kanye West's "Jesus Walks", Dead Prez's "Hip-Hop", and Mos Def and Talib Kweli, two of the greatest MC's in hip-hop. When Kweli takes the stage for "Get By", you cannot help but feel something is going right for the current state of hip-hop. For any true fans, it's like the first time you bought that record, took it home, and put it on the turntable. Erykah Badu and Jill Scott also do not disappoint, particularly with a beautiful rendition of "You Got Me". Of course when you think things cannot get any better, Dave informs us that Lauryn Hill could not get permission from Columbia Records to perform certain songs, so instead she called up her old band mates and the Fugees took the stage. For the first time in almost 10 years. Hill still has a beautiful voice, and you cannot help but get choked up a bit, listening to her sing "Killing Me Softly".

The film is peppered with Chappelle's sharp wit. Particularly his views on the state of music, race relations, and Brooklyn as a whole. The benefit is that Chappelle is presented as a fan. He's like the rest of us. He takes us along on this ride and he's just as excited as we are. It was a treat to see this film with a NY audience. It felt like you were at the concert. People were clapping, cheering and having a good time. It felt great knowing that I could get on a train and go to where this happened- that Brooklyn, was only a train ride away. As a youth, listening to hip-hop, NY was this place that I couldn't imagine. It was almost fairytale like. Now, it's my home.

If your not a fan of Chappelle or hip-hop, then this won't appeal to you, at all. If your like me, and you love the culture of hip-hop music, then this is a very needed break from the current bullshit that permeates the airwaves. Thanks to Block Party, the genre is very much alive. Thank you Dave.


After coming out of the film, I was ready for part two of my evening. I had purchased tickets to see one of my favorite bands, The Strokes. They were playing the 3rd of three sold out NY shows. Sometimes I'm starting to feel a bit my age. I think my girlfriend and I were two of the oldest people in the line. Listening to youth, I cannot fathom I ever sounded like that as a kid. Then as my Mother always told me, I was born old. The Strokes have always been a very personal band to me. I moved to NY when they first broke big, fresh off their debut album, Is This It? I was broke, had no job, no prospect of a job, and listened to their CD almost everyday. A gift of a ticket to their first NY concert at Radio City Music Hall back in 2002, was my feeling that I had arrived. Especially after I landed a job about two months before the show.

I have seen them various times over the years. It's always a reminder of why I'm here, to create. We had tickets on the floor, which is a great concept, but with so many annoying kids, it can grate on the nerves. I think next time, I'll opt for the mezzanine with the rest of the senior citizens. A band called the Eagles of Death Metal opened. My girlfriend, a hip-hop/R&B fanatic, was in for a real treat. She's open-minded, so she went along with it. The Eagles of Death Metal were very good, their female drummer was amazing, but I have a feeling most of the youth were there to see the boys from NY.

After about an hour of setting up and waiting, the energy at an all time high, the lights dimmed, the stage lights came up and the Strokes took the stage. Last to come on was the lead singer, Julian Casablancas, who newly married and semi-sobered, fell down and pointed to the crowd and could not believe how loud we were. The Strokes ripped through 20 songs, a new all time high for them, some off of their new album, First Impressions on Earth, other tunes from Room on Fire and their debut, Is This It? They also played a cover of the Ramones song, Life Is A Gas. Julian dedicating it to the late Joey, Dede, and Johnny Ramone. Julian was also joined on stage by the lead singer of Har Mar Superstar for a duet of Under Control.

Their set was tight, instruments and guitar riffs crisper, and the overall cohesion of the band never sounded better. As they left the stage, the lights started to come up and we made much noise, which caused the band to retake the stage, clapping and pointing to us, and proceeding to play three more songs. For me, it was the greatest concert they have ever given. They seemed to enjoy themselves. They were gracious and appreciative. My girlfriend really enjoyed it as well. She was surprised at how much she liked it.

It was a necessary reminder and reflection, that somehow, I'm going to make it.

People and popups

Arg. I think its best that I stop discussing what is on my mind with other people cuz they just make me think and thinking is highly overrated. You overanalyze, freak yourself out, read into everything ENTIRELY too much. A bartender (who I have not discussed any of my romantic life with ever) this weekend asked me if I was having sex w/"someone". After I finished choking on my beer I said no. He asked why not? I'm not entirely sure why not but I said it wasn't exactly acceptable in our situation. Bartender giggled and said girl this place is the land of many hookups...sexually and long term, no one cares. So now I sit here and think why aren't we? Why aren't we dating? Why aren't we having sex? Soon I'm going to start pulling out my very short hair.

So maybe actually other people aren't the problem...its just me and my overthinking brain. At this moment I would do anything to be a man so I wouldn't have to think so much and be so damn girly and emotional. Men you have it made....but I'll hate you in the morning.

As for the popups, you slow down my computer and irritate me. Shoo fly.

I Just Got Back From Jamaica

What a trip.

The last time I was in Jamaica was 1999. I was anxious to get back...there's something about the people, the sun, the water, that has always had a calming effect on me. Living in the city can be stressful. I know both my girlfriend and I needed this trip. We took off on a Saturday morning, just before the 27 inch snowstorm hit the Northeast. Direct flights are nice. We landed and were greeted by Anita, one of our hosts, who would drive us from the airport in Montego Bay, to Negril. It's about an hour and a half ride. Instantly, I was taken back to how beautiful the country was, the smell of wood burning. The people. The water. The cliffs. The poverty. On the drive, we meet Anita's husband, John, who is one of the nicest people I've ever met. He and Anita met while John was in the British Army. He's also a former boxer. My girlfriend is very excited. I guess I am too. We arrive at the place we are staying, Freedom Villa. There we meet up with my friend Jeff, who goes to Jamaica every year. We also meet Nate, and his wife Missy, Dave, who works for Jeff, and his girlfriend Jackie, and a friend of Jeff's, Jenny. They are all really good people. Jeff has a deal set up where we have the entire house to ourselves. It includes communal areas, a kitchen, and 5 bedrooms, each with their own bathroom. All of this for $25 bucks a day, per person.


Freedom Villa




The Jungle


That day we relax, pick up loads of groceries, and enjoy a few beers.

The next day we head across the street to go to the beach. It's our first real full day of sun. I've never been the biggest fan of water or the sun. Something about Jamaica makes things different, I guess. We all got plenty of sun that day. I loved being in the water, it's so blue and clear. It's peaceful. We spend time at a hotel beach across the street, because John knows the owner. A lot of the beach is privately owned, so it helps to know people. We also spend time at the Boat Bar, where Johnny, a bartender, rolls spliffs and smokes with anyone who wants to. I try a drink called the dirty banana, a mixture of rum, bananas, Tia Maria, Bailey's, and ice.


Walking to the beach


First dip


Catching some rays


Boat Bar


Swimming


The next two days are rainy and overcast. We spend most of the time relaxing, playing card games, and walking along the beach in sweatshirts. We have lunch at a nice restaurant called Mom's. Something about the food is so much different. It's mostly organic. Not a lot of preservatives in their food. And the juice is amazing. It's more solid, less watery, than the juice in the states.

Tuesday was Valentine's Day. Jackie and Missy decided to have a Valentine's Day party. They picked up 12 bottles of champagne, more beer, bottles of orange juice for mimosas, candles, and we got pizza. We spend the night partying, dancing, drinking and singing. I played DJ. Karen, a friend of Anita's, hangs out with us. She's in the same situation as Anita, a German lady married to a "Bleck Juhmacon" man. We talk about the status of the Jamaican economy, government, crime, poverty, and weed. Karen has some race issues. She has concerns about my girlfriend and myself. In a roundabout way, I tell Karen to mind her own business. I've been living on earth for 30+ years. If I decide to have kids, I think I'll be ok. I attributed Karen's rambling to alcohol. She did have about 15 glasses of champagne.




Partying it up

Our 5th day saw us up in the morning. We had talked to John and had decided to book a tour to three places. John was going to take us to the Black River, Y's Falls, and the Appleton Estate. It's much better to go on a tour with people that you know. With John being our guide and driver, it made it all the better. For some of us, we were hurting units, especially, Dave, who spent his night drinking Jagermeister, a gift from Anita. The weather was beautiful. It's about an hour and a half to our first stop. We stop off for patty's, veggie and meat. It's interesting to see the people who live in their environment, hustling to make a living. On the way we see where Peter Tosh, the musician, is buried. We arrive at the Black River and go on the tour. It's a boat that takes you along the river, while your guide explains what is going on. It's called the Black River because of the peat at the bottom of the river. The weird thing is, is that the water looks so dark, but it is crystal clear. This was further proven when our guide took a plastic cup, dipped into the water and it was as clear as tap water. There are all sort of wildlife and vegetation, which included crocodiles and mangroves. The crocodiles are not as aggressive as in other countries, but they will still bite you if given the chance. At one point in the tour, we pull over and are informed that if we want to go swimming, we could. Dave and Missy do, much to the horror of all other tourists on board.


Black River




Mangroves

We stop and have lunch; chicken, fish, rice and peas, salad, and fruit punch with ginger root. We then proceed to Y's Falls. It's a natural waterfall and is best seen after the rainy season. I wasn't really interested in swimming in it. I watched after everybody's stuff while they took turns on rope swings and wading in the very cold water. At the gift shop, my soccer shoes weren't cutting it, so I broke down and purchased some flip flops.


Y's Falls

Our third and final stop was the Appleton Estate. We started out in the bar, sipping rum punch. We were advised to drink it slow, because it is blended with 4 types of rum. Let me tell you, it was strong. Our tour guide, Hugh, then proceeds to tell us everything about Appleton rum, how it is made, the different types, etc.. We end our tour with a visit to our very own bar, where we are allowed to sip all types of products made by Appleton. Not only are we allowed to taste all products, we are allowed to stay there as long as we want. We spend the next 45 minutes downing shots of everything. I feel warm. We are then given complimentary sample bottles of rum. At the gift store, we purchase more bottles of alcohol to take back to the states.


Boys will be boys

It's time to head back. John stops off at a local fruit stand. We pick up bananas, peppered shrimp, mangos and papaya.

It was a really good day.

The next couple of days see us picking up some trinkets, sunning ourselves, drinking, eating and just enjoying the trip. We go out at night for dinner, catch the sound of the ocean and enjoy our vacation. One day we head up to the cliffs, at a place called Xtabi. It has a beautiful view. I pick up a chicken patty on my way. I've become addicted to those things. Unfortunately my girlfriend decided one day to go without suntan lotion and paid a hefty price.


Xtabi


Patty

Shipwrecked boat

Too much sun


Taking it all in...in flip flops

Nate and Missy were set to leave on Saturday, a day before everyone else, so we decided to go out and party it up on Friday night. We listen to live reggae at a bar called Alfred's and dance while consuming many beers.

John was kind enough to make us all breakfast on Saturday. He made us a traditional Jamaican breakfast which consisted of ackee (an African fruit that is poisonous when unripe but edible when ripe) and saltfish (very salty indeed), Jamaican dumplings (deep fried biscuits), and callaloo (very similar to spinach), and we also had papaya, watermelon, pineapple, and small Jamaican bananas. We said goodbye to Nate and Missy. Since sunning was out of the question for my girlfriend, we decide to head to the grocery store to pick up more juice. On the way we meet Charlie, who informs us that he is a real rasta. He wants to take a picture with us. All for the low fee of 100 Jamaican dollars (about 2 dollars US). I oblige. Saturday was also the day of the donkey races. The races were raising money for charity. About nine teams raced twice around a short track dressed up in all manner of costumes. Some of the donkeys had minds of their own and just didn't feel like going around in a circle.


Jamaican breakfast


Saying goodbye


Donkey races


Charlie and me


One of the many flowers of Jamaica

Our last day, the rest of the gang left before we did. Our flight wasn't scheduled to leave until the evening. We said goodbye again. My girlfriend and I went to the boat bar, had more dirty bananas, stopped off and got patties and just spend the time enjoying the water. It was a perfect ending. John and Anita came back after dropping the rest of the guys off and drove us to the airport. We left Jamaica where it was 80 degrees to land at JFK where it was about 18 degrees. Talk about a change in temperature. All in all, it was a great trip. It's nice to be around people who have such a humble outlook on life. Jamaica does have problems..crime, poverty, an aggressive anti-gay policy. There are bugs and mosquitoes. It's a tourist environment so some of the people are aggressive. They have to hustle to make a living. I've also notice that they are taking US money far more than they used to. But for the most part it is a wonderful place to be. Especially if you seek peace and just want to relax. I did notice, probably more so than most, that people of color, regardless of their nationality, have this sort of connection that cannot be explained. Sometimes I wish I had more wealth so I could do more. I wanted to help more people.

At home, I drift off to sleep with imagery and sounds of jungle, patois, reggae music, boys and girls in school uniforms, the smell of burning wood and weed, and the sun shining on my face.

Jesus Ace....but not in a good way.

Alright, c'mon, what was that?

Listen, I'm a decent person, I consider myself kind and caring and good and smart, I honour the vows I make as sacredly as the next person, so here's the deal, I'll keep Ace Young, from this current season of American Idol, as my second husband, for at least another week.

I made the decision last week, after Ace's performance of Father Figure, to forego putting him on my boyfriend list (always changing but currently consisting of Jake Gyllenhaal, Jared Leto, cast of Grey's Anatomy, Sawyer, Jack and Charlie from LOST and Lindsay Lohan) and shoot him straight to husband status. Now as silly as this might sound, it's not. Ok? It's just not. I take my marriages very seriously and few men make it to actual husband status, boyfriends may come and go we all know that, but husbands, choosing husbands is a very strenuous job. Actually, I can only think of one husband I've ever had and I still have him, which says a lot, believe me. Jon Stewart. Now it is possible that the reason Jon's been my only husband is because I've only been implementing this system for the past 2 or so years, but we're splitting hairs there, really. Jon is it for me, his sense of humour can not be beat in every possible way, his wit, his sarcasm, his silliness, are what men should spend their whole lives striving for. Add to that a level of intelligence few living creatures (at least on this planet) could ever even DREAM or pretend to have, and hey it’s not like he’s hard on the eyes, and there you have it, the man for me.

And then comes Ace, I'm usually not so flippant with my emotions, not so easy and willing shall we say, to spread..or open my heart to someone new, someone as gorgeous as Ace, and yet, I couldn't help it. That stare, that song, those shoulders, those jeans (ok seriously does he not have the nicest jeans ever????) I was mesmerized, I was hooked, I was done for. And so Ace did what so few men have done, a relatively unknown became my second husband.

Those damn jeans!

BUT....Ace, c'mon, what WAS that? Seriously? Don't do this to me, till death do US part, man, in sickness AND in health, you're ruining it all for me, I'll never be able to take myself seriously again if you can't even come close to Father Figure.....is it possible for you to sing Father Figure again, all the way thru, top 12 down to top 2? Cuz our marriage would totally work if you could do that.

I'm willing to give you a chance, Ace, I'm taking this V. seriously, are you? Ace? Are you, because it doesn't look like it, your pretty eyes and soft hair will NOT keep you in this marriage alone, ok? I can't do all the work here, you need to meet me at least 3/4 of the way, ok? I'm not asking much, I've overlooked the very good possibility that you have not much going on between those ears, behind those eyes, I'd let you be my daddy any time, ok? I'm giving just about all I've got to give here and I'm scared you're going to disappoint me and I'm not sure I can handle the heartbreak. You've given me hope, hope for the next 14 weeks, you've given me valid excuses to continue this really good relationship I have with my couch, you have no idea how looking forward to this I was and you're crushing my spirit.


One week, Ace, you have one week to fix this, or else...


On a side note, would they airbrush out Mariah Carey's cellulite on the Barbara Walters special?

foXX-A-rama out!

HONOR ROLL! HUG THE EARTH! JESUS SAVES! IT'S A DRUID THING!

Why do some people insist on putting bumper stickers on their car... do they think this is a valid way of expressing themselves? Because I know my car makes a statement all on it's own.

My early 90's model Honda Accord needs no sticker to say "When my owner purchased me she was spending too much money on pot and wild nights out with her gay friends to be able to afford a large car payment. I was an emergency purchase when her previous car crapped out on her. However, I am reliable... and for that, she loves me."

There, see? The story is pretty obvious if you just think about it. Isn't that more interesting than a sticker? I think so. That's why I appreciate Crackhead Stripper Girl in her banged up white Cadillac with no bumper sticker - cause I got to make up her story with no help from her! Same for Blue Haired Early Alzheimer's Lady in the maroon Buick. You go, girls... don't buy in to the whole "expressing yourself with a sticker" idea. My little stories for you are much, much sweeter.

Masturbation lost its fun

A giant weight has been lifted from my shoulders and an even gianter weight has been added.

Tonight I had a very much needed talk w/the man I may possibly love. Yes I said love and it scares me more then it may scare my fellow bloggers. We're insanely crazy about each other but can it work. For it to work I may need to quit a job I love. Or it could mean a long distance relationship...which is worse? This is his career, this is my part time I need to pay off my stupid credit card debt job. He wins. Other people who work there can make it work, without any discrimnation. If we try it, he will get shit on, I will get shit on. Do you quit a job for possible love and a great future or do risk it all? Getting shit on at work and maybe not having love. Do you hope that no one will care? No one will find out? Do you want to hide something that could mean the world to you?

I'm probably revealing way to much here and will delete this in the morning. But right now I'm grateful to be part of one of the greatest group of bloggers this world will ever see and expressing what is on my mind. I need this job. I need him. Money or possible love? What wins? I know in my heart what wins but can I do it?

fyi....tomorrow I get my hair chopped. OFF.