Mainly because I don’t do anything with it. I’m going in a new direction. Wonder Woman isn’t working for me (obviously) and I know it’s not working for you. It’s not you, it’s me. I’m the one who doesn’t know what she wants. I wanted to be Wonder Woman and in a lot of ways, I am. But not here. I’m sorry. I tried.
Panther
May 28, 2008It’s weird when you talk to people your own age and realize just how much younger than you your husband really is.
And by you I mean me, of course.
Yes, he is only 4 years younger than me, nearly five, and most of the time, it is no big deal. We both think alike, we both share the same interests, the same goals, we both want the same life, etc.
It’s the little things, like what grade he was in the first time he heard Korn’s debut CD or not knowing who Carol Burnett is, or not remember my generation’s Doctor Who (#4, played by Tom Baker) because his tenure ended one year after he was born (granted, it ended when I was 4, but given that I caught up when I was 13 and my husband 9, I think you see my point).
The thing that reminds me the most of our age difference is the years he remembers doing things. In 1994, I was running down Comm Ave in Boston, MA listening to the first Korn album, a freshman in college. In 1994, my husband was stomping pie into the new band room carpet because his band director hated him, a freshman in high school. Again, I think you see my point.
I’m not one to talk, mainly because I’m completely anachronistic. I listen to music from the 20s to today. I know television programs that existed decades before my birth. I watch shows generally delegated to the young and/or the elderly. I have odd habits that put me, at different times, with different groups of people. It may explain why my husband and I get along so well. Sure, we don’t have a vast age difference, like some people do, but we do have a little trouble communicating culturally when I have to explain Tim Conway’s ad lib style on the Carol Burnett show because he’s never seen it.
Musically, my husband is just as anachronistic. He knows music from the 60s and 70s like people who lived during those times. I’m out of the loop when it comes to the music he loves, but somehow, we make it work, even if he doesn’t know who Mrs. Wiggins and Mr. Tudball is.
New Apartment and Radiohead
May 15, 2008We’re moving again. It feels ridiculous, but it’s for the best. I promise.
Our new apartment is the top floor of a two story house on a lovely street named Magnolia. Years ago, when I didn’t have a car, I would walk to work and the path I took lead down Magnolia. Every morning, I would see this older lady watering her grass and she would greet me warmly every morning. It was a peaceful walk, the houses were old and beautiful, and I wanted to live in one. Any one of them would do. Now I get my change.
I hate that we are leaving our old place in a way. Our new place is bigger and less expensive and the guy who is renting it is great. Our old place is smaller but beautiful and out of the way. It became our haven and in a lot of ways, that’s hard to give up. I wish we didn’t have to leave, but my husband and I picked this path we’re on and we want to see it out. Our landlords were great, working with us when they could. They were a joy to rent from. I hope whoever gets our apartment will love it as much as we did.
We say our goodbyes at the end of May to a great place, but we’ll say our hellos to our new haven and hope it truly becomes home for now.
We went to see Radiohead last Thursday. We were supposed to be in the Pit, right in front of the band, where we could reach out and touch Thom Yorke if we wanted to. We ended up on the lawn, a long bitter story that I don’t wish to go into. Yes, we were on the edge of the lawn and with the rush of people ended up standing on a slope the entire time. There were these annoying girls that sat on a blanket very close to where people would have to walk to get in front of them and they kept getting upset when people stepped on the edge of their blanket.
It rained off and on, adding that much more delight to the activities. The Liars, the first band, were okay, but I didn’t really forgive the guy who didn’t get the tickets right until Radiohead began to play. Then, it was okay that my hair wanted to go to it’s natural afro state. Then, it was okay that my shoes were damp or that my bag felt heavier because of the rain. It was okay because they sounded phenomenal, that great mix of just like the CD and doing their own thing live. I love live music. And all the singing around you and all the people throwing things at the people in better seats. It was cathartic.
So yeah, I’m ready for our next tour date.
HGTV Wins
April 4, 2008Here’s a little something I call HGTV Madness.
My husband has noticed, and rightly so, that the tv is always tuned to HGTV. I’ve never been a decorator. Decorating was something that moms and girls did. The same people who love registries and shopping via registries and picking out china patterns. I don’t mean to put these people down by any means. These tendencies just did not belong to me. When I got married, I thought I would tackle my wedding registries with gusto, but I ended up getting as fed up as my husband. In fact, we got two gifts that we didn’t even remember registering for (thank God we liked them!). It was an ordeal, not because it was a lot to do, but because it’s easier to say, Frak it, I’ll buy it myself when I need it!
So, to watch HGTV incessantly is a new thing. I blame S. for it. She is the wife of a friend of mine. We’ve been hanging out and I’ve been getting to know her and I like her a lot. We are very similar in many ways. We are tall, we are very confident, we say what is on our minds (she more vocally and colourfully than I, but otherwise…) and we both like watching dance movies.
Dance movies like Step Up, Step Up 2: The Streets, How She Move, Stomp the Yard, etc. Movies that old people and 10 year olds like. They make us cry.
Anyway, one day, while hanging out with her, we end up at her house and it is beautiful. I help her put in a light fixture and and the whole time, HGTV is on. She tells me about her favourite show, Hidden Potential – which we do not get to see – and it is a day that seems to go normally. We both are caught up in this year’s American Idol so we watch and talk and judge people – we’re good at that – and then I go home.
The next day, I bypass the Food Network and the History Channel to get to HGTV and I am instantly captivated. I am captivated because they make $2000 seem like it’s not that much money to use when redoing a home. I mean, I get that when you can easily spend $10,000 re-doing your bathroom, $2000 is nothing. I’m looking for that show that will help your home look like you spent $10,000, but really, you only spent $100.
Hidden Potential is great because it takes these homes that are not very good and they make renovations that bring the home up to the cost the homebuyer was willing to pay. The homes usually look really good. If I were to buy a home, I would want to do that. Get some fixer upper, have someone come in and completely re-do the place, all for less money than if I had found a house with everything I wanted pre-installed.
I’m not very handy, so I’m not sure if I’m as brave as S. when it comes to doing my own renovations, but I think I want to fix up my little patio area – make one side a garden and one side for entertaining. Ooooo, entertaining!
My husband picks at me, but he watched a few episodes and the idea that we could actually make our house innards look better with just a few inexpensive touches was very appealing. He still picks at me, but then he asks what I’m going to do to the living room (the one room in our house that obviously needs some kung-fu). HGTV wins again.
High Holy Day
April 1, 2008I didn’t want to go to the Unitarian Universalist Church. There were too many negative stereotypes from my previous religious life, reinforced by the ambiguity of their “mission statement” which basically boiled down to “We support whatever you believe, even if we don’t agree with it.” In Macon, the Unitarian Universalist church is filled with “refugees” from religion and the day we walked in, we were two of them.
The choice of Unitarian Universalist was my husband’s. It was either that or atheism and although I was questioning everything I’d ever been taught by the church, I was definitely in no position to give up on God. I liked God. He was alright.
But the UU church grew on me, from the self deprecating humour of those around me to the willingness to understand that we all come from some place and that there were things we all wanted to hold to or let go.
There are a lot of traditions in the Macon church, one being the no rehearsal Christmas play (which I missed) and another being April Fool’s Day.
April Fool’s Day is the High Holy Day at our UU church. I assume the Sunday before the actual April 1 is the day that it is observed. To understand a little bit about what makes the AFD service so funny, you have to know about our ritual.
We start out with soft music, and then someone speaks (whoever is leading the congregation on that day), then we say our opening lines, lines that talk about how we want to be together for learning and how we look out for each other and learning to be more tolerant, blah blah blah – I mean, it’s good stuff, but we say it every Sunday. Then there is music, the lighting of the chalice (we have words to go along with that too), more singing, then we follow the gong into the silence.
First of all, the service was lead by a guy named Farquhar (far-kwar). Then we started out with raucous music as one of the members decided to go to town on the drums. Then, we lit the chalice with a blow torch (instead of one of those little handheld fireplace lighters), then they switched it out for a lava lamp. Suddenly, the service is interrupted by someone claiming to be a bishop from the church in Transylvania (surprisingly not an April Fool’s joke is that the UU church was founded in Transylvania). He arranged music for us, music that they listened to on the radio because they didn’t have tv – the songs included “It’s My Party” and “These Boots Are Made For Walking” and “Lollipop” (that song that drove us crazy at the Termini in Rome). Then, instead of following the gong into the silence, we had to do this hand raising and lowering with vocal gymnastics, which the guy stopped in the middle to accuse one of the ladies in the back for impeding our ascension to God. One of the songs we sang basically said that we have the wisdom of all these prophets and books, but we refuse to look at them because we want to make up our own minds. Then Farquhar talked about his friend Frankenstein (Frahn-ken-steen) and how he had some parts to send back with the bishop. Then they dressed the intern minister up in some ridiculous Cherry Blossom getup (he gave the sermon in the getup, which was also a joke). I have to say, I laughed so much.
So, yes, it’s not church traditional, and that I appreciate. It may or may not be helping me on my spiritual journey, but maybe it’s giving me the respite I need.
Baby Showers
March 31, 2008I was invited to a baby shower. I don’t usually go to those things because most of my friends are guys and guys don’t usually GO to those things. But this particular friend has a fiance like me (which may be why I like her) and she had a shower that was both sexes.
The night before, I find out that a friend of mine and his wife will be there. He and I were chatting and as we discussed the shower, we hoped there would be beer. Then, we realized that, for what we might be about to put up with – a baby shower, possibly only knowing each other and the mom and dad, and a baby shower – there had better be beer.
The shower turned into a reunion of sorts. It turns out that A., the mother, knows some of the same people I know. So we all grab a beer, a Newcastle (A., the dad’s, favourite) and we stand around the food table talking and laughing. All the guys but one were husbands of someone. All the girls but 2 were the wives of someone. Every woman at the shower were all women who don’t usually have other women as friends, so it wasn’t so bad. I lasted nearly 30 minutes laughing and talking in the living room with them before I started to hyperventilate and went outside to hang with the guys. They laughed at me, then we went in to watch A. open her gifts. I would like to say that part was fun, but we stood around talking under our breath and drinking more Newcastles.
My gift was not in a pretty bag with a card. I realized then that I needed a wife who would make sure that all that stuff was right for other people. As it were, my gift was more last minute than I would have liked. I mean, I was sick for the two days preceding. That should be some kind of excuse, right?
In the end, it was a great time. I got to drink a few beers with friends, I got to eat some great food, had some really excellent chocolate cake (it was a baby face, complete with pacifier – very cute, if you’re into that sort of thing) and to say a good time was had by all would be making light of a great time.
Transformer
March 29, 2008I, I, I, I, I, I
I transform
I transform
I transform
I’m a transformer
I, I, I, I, I, I
I transform
I transform
I transform
I’m a transformer
I’m just being myself
Plus I gotta be me too
Silly of me to think that
I couldn’t bring myself to be you
Ah but behold there is benevolence
Behind this but don’t stare though
Be careful cause I’ll kill you
With kindness
That why I’m dressed quite neatly
Cause Its easy and discreetly they seek me
And when they reach me and see me
they believe me completely
I’m a real live wire I ain’t lying
If its between me and you I ain’t dying
I can transform, I can transform, I can transform
Without even trying wow
Now I’m someone else
Now someone can be me too
Behold the beautiful and bold
everyday I
Wake up to be new
Oh but its simple but they still can understand why
I think I can, I think I can, I think I can or can I
I’m a microchip off the old block
You know not but I was a robot
And I sold Rock and you would get
For sho shoot with a gold glock boy I rode pac*
Something that you won’t see again
What the hell might as well be a friend
I can transform, I’m a transformer
No telling who I will have to be again
*Despite the lyrics, I did not ever sell Rock and although I have a friend whom Tupac hit on, I also have nothing to do with him – the lyrics otherwise ring true.
