Tuesday, May 24, 2011

100 Words: Guilt Free

Dear 2011-
I know you started off on a good foot, and then, rather rapidly, went all sucktastic... THEN you miraculously made a helluva comeback. I loved you for that. I think you became a bit too confidant in your ability to remain awesome, and it showed... in a major way. THEN, like Travolta/PulpFiction you came rushing back in to steal my heart back... and now... well... now you've failed me again. I am no longer relying on you to remain consistent. I am in fact, cheating on you with future plans well into 2012. Ironically, I don't feel guilty.

Monday, May 23, 2011

Sweet 16

The strangest feeling flowed over me the other evening. I am not quite sure how to describe it, but I am going to try.

You know those movies where a person either goes back in time, or somehow suddenly wakes up at a much younger age? I'm sure we've all hoped for moments like that from time to time. I, in fact, wish for it relentlessly. I know there's the whole "butterfly effect" to contend with, but I just miss the ease of yesterday... on a fairly regular basis.

Well, the other night it sort of happened. It was like stars were aligning in my favor for once, and as I drove home a smile started to spread across my face.

I had left the house alone and had a blast while I was out (I'll be doing this more often than not I think). Yes, I ran into some friends (George & Phil) that make me laugh... :

George: (holding the most disgusting drink I've ever sipped in my life) You really don't like it?
Me: You know what? I bet it would be better if it tasted good.
*insert laughter and a high five from Phil*

Throw in the fact that I had the good fortune of running into a friend, a guy, that I find ridiculously attractive... yet I feel dirty as hell for thinking it since he's about 16 years younger than me. (I know... I know... whatever, he's hot.) Yeah, my night was filled with silly moments, and crazy thoughts. I loved it.

Suddenly the promise of summer seemed like something to be excited about again. I had this odd giddy feeling of being 16, and not knowing yet that bad kissers existed; that an innocent night at the beach with a boy, by a fire, drinking bad beer...was just that, an innocent night. Suddenly a cute boy was nothing more than something to giggle about with your best friend, and the over thinking the situation part was non-existent. I had that "you make your own destiny" feeling again, and I liked it.

To make it all that more entertaining, the car ride home had the soundtrack of my youth blaring from the speakers. I have no idea what radio station it was since the digital read out has never worked in my car to begin with ... it's all a guessing game. Yet there I was, cruisin' along to music that seems to NEVER be played on the radio these days, like (among others) Level 42 (I can not even begin to tell you how much I used to love this song... and oddly enough, still kinda do to be honest.)

Level 42 - Something About You by jpdc11

The whole reason I had even gone out that night was to make myself tired. I had to be up at the butt crack of dawn for work. I'm currently working 3 jobs (Yes, THREE) this summer, and part of the "training" for one of them was taking place the following morning on the mainland, in New Bedford, MA.  I got a good laugh over the fact that I was being paid to spend the day in New Bedford, since it's not usually a place that most people would choose to spend their time. Oddly enough, my day was epic.

I had to take the fast ferry (which is one of my jobs this summer, selling tickets for it), and as I ran to catch it I watched one of the local buses (the VTA) clip a car and rip the car's front bumper clean off as I was boarding the boat (laughing). While I was cruisin' along at what felt like warp speed through the early morning fog, I sent a message to someone on facebook through my phone. I doubted he'd see the message in time, but I sent it nonetheless.

Hey. I'm on the fast ferry to New Bedford right now....and while I know this is totally last minute, and the chance of you even seeing/reading this before I have to hop on the 3:45p back to the island is slim to none... but... I just figured I'd let you know. I'll try to call if I ended up with any free time while there today. (I am going for work related stuff/training). If not today, some day soon, ok? ♥ G 

I arrived in New Bedford, met some of the people that work for the boat (& they are AWESOME!), and started in with my training. The idea was to get me accustomed to the phone system, the problem was no one called. Seriously, no one. We ended up just using our own cell phones to call, and then practiced transferring calls between the two phones sitting next to each other on the mile long desk.  I'll admit it though, it was pretty funny.

After about 2 hours I stepped outside to have a cigarette (I know, shut up!) and sent a text message to the person I had sent that facebook message to earlier... 30 min later he called me. My assumption that he was at work was WRONG; he had taken the day off and wanted to know if I was free in like 30 minutes. The two girls I was working with, in our empty terminal, both agreed that if I wanted to take off for an hour that it would be okay, as long as I was back in time for the next boat. Not only because I needed to be on that boat to get home, but because there would be actual customers and my training would be a bit more realistic than calling one desk phone from the other, or creating mock tickets in the computer system.

I left to go to the bathroom and as I walked back towards the office I noticed a customer standing there talking to one of the girls behind the glass window... then I saw her point at me and the customer turned around.... 

It was no customer... it was... oh you'll love this!.... him. Who is he? My ex boyfriend from when I was 16 years old. We hadn't seen each other since the end of summer 1988. A year or two back we reconnected through facebook (isn't that how everyone connects/reconnects these days?) and had sorta been promising to get together and hang out. Suddenly I had an hour of free time to do just that. 

We smiled, we hugged, and I had the startling realization that I did not actually grow 2" since I was 18... I grew 3". Holy shit! Yeah, I honestly remember him being much taller than me back then... now I tower over him. That was a weird moment. Truth be told, I'm pretty sure that was weird for both of us.

"Quasimodo", a 37-foot male humpback

We wandered into the city, and he pointed out some historical buildings as we chatted about this, that, and the other. An hour was just not enough time to spend with someone who you haven't seen in so long. At one point he had me go peek in the giant glass window of the Whaling Museum to check out the massive whale skeletons suspended from the ceiling. I'll be honest, it was totally bad ass. He asked me if I wanted to see more (I did), and brought me inside, he bought us both tickets (sooo not used to someone buying me anything, but it was super sweet of him), and then he proceeded to give me the funniest damn tour of anything I've ever been on.

"This is a picture of an old dude."
"Here's more paintings of old guys"
"This is harpooning stuff, and other old things"
"Here's what the old guys in the paintings used to do stuff with"

I was cracking up. I had forgotten just how unintentionally hysterical he was. Once the whirlwind tour of "all the old whaling stuff" was over, we went to a bar for a drink. Well, I was technically at work, so I lived on the edge and drank a Diet Coke® :) ... and I made it back exactly 1 hour after I had left. Just in time for the crazy crunch of customers that wait till the last damn minute to get their tickets. 

I got on board the ferry, heading for home, with a smile on my face. Such a strangely epic day really.... and it all started at 12:03am as I drove home feeling 16 again... and then had to train for a job, which I haven't had to do since I was about 16, since most jobs I've had since the age of 16 don't usually require "training" insomuch as plain ol' hands on experience... and then hung out with the boy I was bananas for at 16.... yeah, I liked that day. I liked it a lot... it was... well... in a word... sweet.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Guilt By Association: Part 1

Fall, 1988:

"Get up! You're going to be late!"

Alarm clock in hand, raised up towards her face, I groggily groaned at my Mother, "Look! I re-set it last night, I was going to get some sleep today.. the lady at CVS asked me if it could be rescheduled to 3... I'm going back to sleep!"

My Mother got all panicked for a second (I later found out that it was because they thought everything was going to go just as planned- which is funny, 'cause what does?-... but the switcheroo of my job interview screwed up their plans)...
"No! She called and said she wanted it to be at the original time."

I groaned, I rolled out of bed & started to walk to the nearest phone to call the woman to explain that I would be slightly late. My Mom, again, got all panicky.
"Where are you going?" she almost cried.
"Mom, chill. I'm just going to call her and tell her I'll be late, then hop in the shower."
"No!.. I already told her... just go get ready."
My mother was never this crazy normally... her voice was all quivery...it was odd, but it was still no indication of the bullshit that was about to ensue.

I took a shower and got dressed. I no longer recall what it was I wore that day, but I'm sure it was not only very 80's, but completely wrong for a job interview. Whatever, I was 16 years old and thought purple eyeshadow was amazing, so use your imagination... but if you need help:
this is actually me, the summer of 1988... I know... I rule, eh?
With my hair blown dry, teased well past the zenith, then sprayed with enough Aqua Net® that I do believe I may be partially, and personally, responsible for some of that ozone layer depletion; my make up so heavy that it looked like I motorboated my make up bag; my massive amounts of jewelry adorning me like the cheap and tacky armor it was... I wandered downstairs into the kitchen to get some breakfast.

I found my Dad & some random guy with a gross 70's 'stache in the dining room looking at the computer. I just figured he was either fixing something, or a business associate.
"Who's the porn star?" I asked my Mom pointing my thumb over my shoulder.
"Stop it! That's a business associate of your fathers" she said in one of those angry whispers that can only be perfected by motherhood.
"Whatever, still looks like a porn star with that 'stache"

 I grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl and a pre-wrapped portion of string cheese and asked my Mom for the keys to the car so I could get to town. She froze. In retrospect, my Mother was acting so freaky I don't know how I didn't know something was up. She tells me that the guy with my Dad, this "business associate," was leaving on the next train and they had to give him a ride, so we'd all go together. I was mildly irritated, because it meant I couldn't go anywhere after the interview, they'd be waiting. I shrugged and said "ok, let's go."

When we got into the car my mother was sitting in the back seat with me. This NEVER happens, my father is the über gentleman and always insists that the woman rides in front... so that was odd to me, but I just figured the porn star in the front seat was outta there soon, it didn't matter. We got to the end of the road, the car went right. The train station & my job interview were to the left...in the opposite direction.

"Dad, wrong way" I laughed.


The safety locks go on, and all the doors in the car were controlled by the driver.


The window locks were on, and couldn't be controlled from the back seat anymore

"What the fuck is going on?" I say.

"Honey, don't use that language" my mother pleaded.

"Fuck you, you just locked me in a car going in the opposite direction of where we were supposed to be going, with a big goon that looks like a porn star in the front seat.. and you want me to watch my language? Fuck that."

At that moment porn goon had leaned back through the front seats, puts his hands atop mine and tried to hold me in place. I looked at him, laughed, and told him "don't fucking touch me, creep"  as I picked up my right leg (I was sitting behind my Father) and kicked him... I was aiming for his face, but only managed to get him in the shoulder. I've never been one to allow someone to place their hands on me without consent. Not to say it never happened before, but because it had, I reacted. I started to jab at the window with my elbows, trying to break it. My Mother freaked out and grabbed my hands, I freed one and started (I'll never forget this as long as I live...) to whack the piss out of her hands and arms with my one free arm that happened to be covered in metal bracelets almost to the elbow.

clink... clink... kuthud....clink....clink... kuthud...….  rapidly and repeatedly until she let go.

I'm still not only shocked I ever lay a hand on her, but that I didn't break her wrists or hands.

Once she let go I just kept pounding on the window with my fists and bracelets..... swearing up a storm, wanting to get the fuck out of that car no matter what. I didn't care if I had to jump out the window on the highway... I think I would have, no, I know I would have. There is nothing more in this world I hate than the feeling of being trapped.

Damn windows.

If I had been able to get a better angle I would have kicked the windows out... but porn goon and my Mother kept grabbing at me. Finally I just stopped, I mean totally stopped. Something came over me, and I had a strange moment of clarity. Eyes straight ahead, breathing calm, sitting straight ... and I turned to my Mother and said in a very relaxed manner "where are you taking me, and why is he here?" (*pointing at porn goon*) I, years later, learned that he was a hired thug to supposedly "help" them kidnap me and take me to hell.

This would be "The Mansion"
I don't remember anything after that moment right up until we pulled through the gates of hell in West Stockbridge, MA. We parked directly in front of the mansion by the front door. I refused to get out of the car. My parents went inside. Porn goon stood on the steps and stared at me as I watched a bunch of preppy lookin' kids wandering around. A group of girls walked by, all of them holding hands with each other. An older person (no idea who) stopped them and said something to the person that was apparently in charge (I eventually learned that her name was Kelly (no memory of her last name) and she was a dorm parent (DP) for "New Girls" (yes, that was the name of one of the "dorms") in fall of 1988). A few girls came over to the car, opened the door and said "are you coming out?"

"No, I'm staying right here" I said, and closed the door on them.

Becky K. & Lara M. are the only faces with names that I remember from that moment in time.

About fifteen or so minutes later the door opens again, this time it's Joanna H. & some girl named Judy (I don't remember her last name, but she ran away with Brian B. about a month later), Joanna says "Hi" then just as she's about to speak again my parents walk out of "the mansion" (it had been about 45 min. at this point).... my Mother walks over to the side of the car where I am and my father pops the trunk. She says "honey, you have to get out of the car."

"The fuck I do" I tell her

Massive amounts of giggles erupt from the 10 or so girls that I hadn't noticed before on the other side of the car...they were still holding hands. It was surreal. I thought they were going to break into song like some strange scene from Whoville, only the car was the Xmas tree and the Grinch was someone I had yet to meet.... but someone was clearly stealing my Christmas.

My father dropped a small duffle bag at the door of the car and told me to "get out."

I looked at his face and realized there was no way that car was leaving with me in it, so I considered bookin' it for the gate. I judged the distance, kicked off the heels I had on, and took a good long look at my Mother's face. As I turned to prepare to take off for the main road all the girls were suddenly standing there behind Joanna & my Mother. Now it looked like a game of "Red Rover"... and I didn't know if I'd make it through. I stood up finally, and there was a collective gasp (height pays off once in a while) ...

"How long?" I asked my Mother

"That remains to......" my Father started

"Shut up, I was talking to her, " I said, pointing at my Mother.

"You will not speak to me like that young lady!" my father shouted.

"You're right, I just won't speak to you at all, asshole"...... and for a full year, I didn't. I only spoke to my Mother on the phone. I tore up every letter my father wrote, unread.

"Why?" I asked my Mother as I stood .... and began to walk away with tears in my eyes.

She had no answer. It took over 19 years for an answer.... and in the end it was because they were worried I'd end up like the people I was hanging out with. Great. Awesome. ....... Dumbasses! I had never once acted as angry & violent as I did that day in the car, I would have NEVER laid a hand on my Mother... and I sure as shit never talked to them the way I did that day. In retrospect it probably made it easier for them to leave me there because I had done all that..... but can you blame me?

What happened next, and up through January 1990, is what will soon follow in a series of posts that tell the story, as well as the story of others that went there since this wouldn't be worth telling without them.

Monday, May 16, 2011

S and M

Oh c'mon.. get yer minds outta the gutter! I am referring to sales & marketing.

Do you ever notice yourself humming a jingle from an advertisement? One you just can't get out of your head? I am SOOOO guilty of that, often. Thankfully the "FreeCreditReport.com" ads have eased up ... but for what felt like forever I would find myself unable to get this out of my head:

Sometimes it's not even a catchy jingle, or celebrity endorsement that draws me it. Like the time I was recovering from an awful cold in college back in Chicago; I was crossing the street and one of the "Streetwise" guys ,who normally just call out "Streetwise!" and try to get you to buy one for a dollar (perfectly good cause really, and worth the $1.00), looks at me as I am crossing the street in front of The Art Institute, coughing up a lung, and says "Streetwise will cure that cough!" I laughed so hard at that for some reason (which funnily enough made me cough even worse), and dug deep into my pockets to find $1.00. The guy totally earned it. Hell, he could have been selling used tinfoil and I would have thought it was a funny hook.
I find it amazing how many times I am in the grocery store and debating between various products and my brain just automatically replays visions of commercials and print ads. Like I might remember why one product is reportedly better than the other.
Staring at the laundry detergents:
"Hmmm, this one got that coffee stain out of that ladies shirt"....
"This one beat out the competition when trying to remove grass and ketchup stains, I should get this one"....
(mind you I have no idea when or where I would get grass & ketchup stains on my clothes, but if I ever do... I will be SO prepared!)
Y'all remember the last time I went on and on about Groupon? (It was in this post if you care for a refresher) Well, I still get at least one email daily from them... and the sad part is that they are mostly still for deals in London (*insert a super sad face here*), or they are just for things I have zero interest in, or time for in Boston. Today, however, at the bottom of the email there was something that I thought needed to be shared. In fact, if I wasn't already signed up for groupon deals in my area (as well as London, New Orleans, NYC, Chicago, and parts of CT) I would have signed up on the spot just because I enjoyed this so much:
(click to enlarge)

Do you ever find yourself, even subconsciously, paying attention to marketing/advertising? I know that industry makes the big bucks because they come up with some real winners. Granted, most of them are boring and lame as hell, but once in a great while they do such a good job that I suddenly feel an overwhelming urge to buy/own/use a specific product. Keep in mind I rarely even watch TV... but commercials like this:

Yeah, I ain't gonna lie... I kinda fell in love with Old Spice™ 'cause of that commercial. I don't even know/remember if I like the smell of it, but I will probably now eternally equate it with Isaiah Mustafa (the ridiculously handsome man in the ad) and think it's a great product.
There is the flip side to all this too. Make someone I detest a spokesperson for a product of some sort... yeah, never touchin' the stuff again. Example: make Tom Cruise the spokesperson for something I love, and I will never buy it again. (Or at least till someone new, that doesn't deserve to be in a looney bin, takes over.)
Makeup/skin care is probably the industry that relies the heaviest on "association." Think about it, are you going to buy something like a facial moisturizer, even if it claims to do all sorts of amazing things, if the spokesmodel looks like this:

OR like this:
Yeah, I thought so.

Which commercials/ads have convinced you to buy something, or at least desire to check it out?

Friday, May 13, 2011

Just Curious

Anyone else noticing that a whole mess of comments disappeared after Blogger had one of it's hot flashes yesterday? I know for a fact that at least 20 different ones are gone...

I'll live & all, but.. such a shame really. :(

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

100 Words: I Have The Warm Blanket

With my mind racing at the speed of sound, all I long for today is silence. The sound of the wind rushing the trees should be my white noise... but it's not. The sepia toned world outside my windows is calling out for me to curl up in a hammock while I shelter myself in a warm blanket on a covered porch with a good book. Alas my porch is not covered, my hammock has long since been broken, & I have read every book in this house.
Is it irony that peacefulness outside rarely equates peacefulness on the inside?

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

If You Don't Laugh You Might Be Dead

After a week or two of ... well... whatever, let's not talk about it... I needed to laugh to the point of tears, the happy kind of tears.. and I'll be damned... I came across these videos today and no matter how many times I watch the first one I laugh till there are tears streaming out of my eyes. Seriously, the first three times I watched it I was doubled over, and I've easily watched it like at least 13 times now ... The second one just makes me giggle endlessly.
I've been reading all your super kind comments on the post prior to this one, and I know I'm not the only one that could use a good laugh too... so....enjoy!

Sunday, May 8, 2011

One Week

It's been one week since you looked at me
Cocked your head to the side and said I'm angry
Five days since you laughed at me saying
Get that together come back and see me

1 week, 3 deaths of friends (1 car accident, 1 suicide, and 1 suspected accidental suicide via overdose) plus news of another friend being told they had approx 18 months to live, tops.

 Hello shitastic week, I was wondering when you'd arrive. 2011 was going just too nicely wasn't it? Dick.

Three days since the living room
I realized it's all my fault but couldn't tell you
Yesterday, you'd forgiven me
But it'll still be two days till I say I'm sorry

There is a part of me that feels I need to apologize for being a horrible blogger as of late- be it posts, comments, or just reading yours... but... life happens even when you're not lookin'... and these past two or so weeks have truly proved that.

Hold it now and watch the hood wink
As I make you stop think
You'll think you're looking at aqua man
I summon fish to the dish although I like the Chalet Swiss
I like the Sushi 'cause it's never touched a frying pan

Following all that was the funeral of one of those friends, and a visit of another friend (so he could attend the funeral as well) who I had not seen in over 20 years... a friend who the last time I saw him was walking on his own.

Hot like wasabi when I bust rhymes
Big like Leann Rimes
Because I'm all about value
Bert Kaempfert's got the mad hits
You try to match wits, you try to hold me but I bust through
Gonna make a break and take a fake
I'd like a stinkin' achin' shake

Now after a horrifying car accident... a car accident which no one, including him, knows the true circumstances of outside of the facts that he was not on drugs, or drunk, and no true investigation was ever done into the fact that it was probably a hit and run... he was eventually left with 3/4 of one leg, and currently unable to use his other leg till the extensive nerve damage in that one heals.

I like vanilla, it's the finest of the flavors
Gotta see the show 'cause then you'll know
The vertigo is gonna grow
'Cause it's so dangerous
You'll have to sign a waiver

While he was here I personally got to witness some of the most outstanding fortitude a human could possibly possess while spending the week with him.... and it all started on the ferry boat ride back to the island after I borrowed a friend's car on the mainland to get him back here from Logan Airport in Boston. (About 70 miles from the ferry boat)

The ferry had docked, we took the elevator down to the cargo hold (where all the cars on the ferry boat are kept for the 45 min. ride to the island) and as he exited, backwards- since the elevator is too small for someone in a wheelchair to turn around- his wheelchair flipped up and backwards which flung him onto his back which made it so he smacked his head against the steel wall of the ferry boat. (TOTALLY the boat's fault, not his.)

I can tell you all right now that I know what my heart tastes like, because it rose up and out of my chest like a jesus lizard on 89 Red Bulls®

The taste is no better going back down....

Seconds later the cars that were in view of what happened stopped and drivers leapt out to run over to help. (It was a brief moment of faith in humanity, that's for sure)... moments passed and some employees of the SSA came to our aid. I checked his head to see if there was blood (none, thankfully) and eventually he was able to prop himself up against the steel wall in front of that horrible (& totally shit built) elevator. They asked him if he wanted to have an ambulance called. He initially said no... but... and I shit you not.... there was suddenly a flash mob of EMTs.

I was almost kinda shocked that they didn't break into a dance routine to be honest. They arrived SO quickly... but then again, the town ambulance is directly across the street from where the ferry docks... still, super fast response.

Eventually they took him to the ER... and our first 7 1/2 hours on the island together were spent at MVH in the ER. I'll tell you that with the exception of two amazing nurses (Amanda and Lisa) that night... the MVH is shit and you should NEVER go there, for any reason outside of using the bathroom or trying to snag a bunch of purple plastic gloves (which I TOTALLY took, thankyouverymuch) along with odd gadgets you can't say no to like a suction catheter ... yeah, snagged one of those too... just 'cause it made us laugh.

How can I help it if I think you're funny when you're mad?
Trying hard not to smile though I feel bad
I'm the kind of guy who laughs at a funeral
Can't understand what I mean? Well, you soon will
I have a tendency to wear my mind on my sleeve
I have a history of taking off my shirt

He took this pic with his fancy Droid phone and posted it on facebook... I left the comment: "how is it that the bags under MY eyes are darker & deeper than yours? I'm not the one that got rushed to the ER! Maybe they got it wrong? Can I have some meds?" (Can I just add here that I oddly enough find this to be a fairly cute picture of us? 'Cause it totally is!) 
We managed to somehow crack ourselves up most of the night, and finally around 2:30am he was released from the ER and we went home to my Mother's house where we planned to stay. My house would have been beyond impossible for him to get into. At my Mother's he still had to crab crawl up the porch steps, and then I got all MacGyver and created an insta-ramp with some spare wood from the garage.. but once inside we were golden. Master bedroom on main floor as well as bathrooms with jacuzzi tubs (which he LOVED). We finally ate some food, got ready for bed, and 2 hours later woke up to take a ferry again back to the mainland for our friend's funeral. I wore A LOT of black eye make up...at least I think I did. I couldn't tell. I just know it looked like I had gone slightly goth thanks to the dark circles and bags under my eyes.

Chickity China of the Chinese chicken
You have a drumstick and your brain stops tickin'
Watchin' X files with no lights on
We're dans la maison
I hope the smoking man's in this one
Like Harrison Ford I'm getting frantic
Like Sting I'm tantric
Like snickers guaranteed to satisfy

I realize this next sentence is going to sound VERY weird, but I'm just going to say it: we had a really nice time at the funeral. We got to meet a lot of our friend Lauren's family (really wonderful people) and see some friends we had not seen in YEARS, one of them (for me at least) since 1989... and afterwards were invited by Lauren's family to a lunch at a local restaurant where they (Lauren's family)  moved the entire gathering to the first floor when they realized there was no access for Dave's wheelchair on the 2nd floor where the gathering was originally being held, and I think they also realized that the 6 of us who knew Lauren from school were not parting with each other, for any reason that afternoon.

How can I help it if I think you're funny when you're mad?
Tryin' hard not to smile though I feel bad
I'm the kind of guy who laughs at a funeral
Can't understand what I mean?
Well, you soon will

Though... they might have wanted to change their minds when they saw how we housed the salad... at least I did.....
yes, I knew he was taking the picture, I don't normally eat like that, I swear!

Lauren's family was constantly rotating and coming to sit with us, and talk to us. It all felt, well... loving. Yeah, that's the best possible word to use. Do you know what I mean? Sure there were tears, and very sad moments, it was a funeral for cryin' out loud (did that too), but there were smiles and laughter... and people that just genuinely enjoyed being with each other. How sad that it can take a funeral to make people realize that sort of thing.

Do you ever have those experiences? A group (or groups) of people that might normally never really associate with each other due to day to day obviousness who find out they have more in common with each other than they do differences? Kinda beautiful really.

So much more happened over the course of the following 7 days... but that's another blog post, for another day...

Monday, May 2, 2011

iBLOG: Starlight...Starbright....First Blog I Post Tonight

Ladies & Gentlemen! TODAY I have a gift for you! The extraordinary creator, Starlight, of the blog "Crazy Thoughts" has graced us with a guest post and an answer to the simple question "why do you blog?" I feel very lucky to have her contribute here, and hope you take some time to check out her blog and read through a few (or, hey! why not all?!) of her posts... but first.... (*insert fancy schmancy drum roll*)..... Let Starlight tell you in her own words why SHE blogs:

I had insomnia last fall so I spent most of the nights surfing the net. One night, at about 2 a.m., I came across a very interesting blog and decided I too want to start my “blogging career” because I've always loved to write. I immediately set up an account (so that I wouldn’t change my mind by morning) and Crazy Thoughts were born.

At first I thought my blog would be some kind of a diary and that I would write it every day, which I actually did, at least at the start. I didn’t have a “normal” kind of diary in mind – the kind of diary where you describe your day and your feelings about things that happened that day. That’s not my cup of tea, believe me I know since I tried it a couple of times. I probably still have my old diaries somewhere; maybe I should look for them. At each attempt of writing a diary I bought a brand new beautiful (sometimes even shiny) diary and they all had locks and stuff that comes with them. But after a week or so I figured out that writing a diary is not very interesting and I stopped writing it (it seemed much more interesting on TV).
So, no, my blog wasn’t meant to be that kind of a diary. I’m trying to figure out what I really wanted to do with it at the beginning but I honestly can’t recall.
Since I started blogging I “met” a couple of wonderful people (one of them is most definitively GoofyGirl) and I’m very happy that they like to read my posts (or at least pretend to) and that they comment on my blog so often. I enjoy being a part of  the “blogging community” where I get support and inspiration for writing.
I can’t recall what my blog was meant to be at the beginning but I know what it is today. It is some sort of book where I’m the main character and the writer at the same time. It's a place where I can truly be who I am, where I don’t have to pretend and hold myself back. It is a place where I can release my imagination and make up stories about random people I saw on the bus or about people who exist only in my mind.