I have the potential to not suck at life

In four very short months, I will be thirty-two. Part of me wants to freak out because that's what I did with twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty and thirty-one. However, there's another part of me that's looking thirty-two in the face, and she's peaceful about this milestone, so peaceful, in fact, the rest of my psyche is actually listening.

Freaking out: I'm two years into my thirties and I've done nothing!

Peaceful: Thirty-two isn't old. I have my whole life still ahead of me.

Freaking out: Look at the last ten/ twelve years; what in the name of all that's grammatically correct have I been doing? Have I honestly spent ten/ twelve years sitting on my butt eating chips and surfing the internet? Will I never get my act together?

Peaceful: This is an opportunity. Every day is an opportunity. So the question should be "what will I be doing now?"

If I feel I've been wasting the years, if that's the worst of my issues, then the solution is to waste no more of the time granted to me. I don't believe I can change the world; I just want to know that I've done what I can with my very small part of this world. I may not ripple history, but I am definitely capable of affecting those around me. I have potential; that is one quality I am sure of. I am intelligent, over-educated, loving, creative and moderately talented. Truth be told, that's a lot to work with.

So, this is my goal for the next four months: Make every day an opportunity to do and be more so that by my birthday, I can not only be peaceful about the number of my years but, what's more, proud of who I am at thirty-two years old.

This is a pretty exciting objective, don't you think?

An Open Letter

Dear Microsoft,

You don't know me. I'm just one more wife-to-a-geek, and I have had no reason to address you before this point. You see, I'm not a techno-yuppie. I simply don't care about  having the latest and greatest... stuff. I was way behind the curve in procuring a cell phone, and even when I did, I made it clear that it just needed to take calls. Why would I need a phone that takes pictures? That's just crazy talk. Though I did not realize how an mp3 player would change my life, I still maintain that -- other than my mp3 capable cellphone (archaic as it may be) -- I simply do not covet technology. It's too changeable. Too fickle. Too expensive.

However, concerning the rumored Courier: I want. Bad. Muy muy malo.

I want an infinite journal, and I know you understand (see attached photo). I want to cut & paste & flick information from the Internet into my journal. I want to use a stylus to write; I love to write.

I realize that this particular item is still in development, i.e. incubation. Whatever. I'm in. I only ask that you please include e-reader technology because I've been stubborn about the Kindle, and I'm putting my faith in your little beauty to fulfill my need for hundreds of books at my fingertips (I also love to read). Also, if you could make it play mp3s, I would be eternally yours.

Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,
Punk

I am pathetic

I've alluded in past posts that Bryan & I live far from our families. This is true: a thousand miles worth of distance. Over the years, we've discussed the fact that we've always lived at least three hours from our parents & siblings, and I believe that this is a situation that has served us well. Our marriage relationship has grown and developed so that we depend on each other as the nucleus. We had to be independent as a young couple, and this is healthy. On the downside, we've missed having grandparents close for our boys to have relationships with. When someone in either family could have used a hand, mine were tied. When my grandmother died, I wasn't there; I grieve that fact.

My family is close knit, or, we were while growing up, at least, and I miss being able to hang out with my brother and sister and their spouses. I regret that I'm missing seeing my neices and nephew grow. I've never lived with any of my six youngest siblings, and that's saddens me.

Over the years, the distance was eased with a lot of phone calls. Bethany and I would talk a couple hours a week, and my mother and I would talk a couple hours a week, sometimes every day. However, at the moment, my uncle, aunt and two cousins are living with my parents and six siblings. It's a madhouse. There's no downtime, no quiet moments. My mother and I have gone from speaking several times a week to once every two or three weeks.

I'm very disconnected from my extended family, and I feel it like a punch to the solar plexus.

To my family, to my mother and father, mother-in-law, father-in-law, all five sisters, three brothers, three brothers-in-law, two sisters-in-law, nieces and nephew, grandfathers and grandmother: I love you all.

... I need a hug.

Bored bored bored

Bethany hates when I apologize, but I feel compelled, because, you see, I'm both boring and bored. You know that horrible feeling when you're doing nothing and don't want to do anything? The most adolescent boredom ever invented? Yeah, that's where I've been these last couple of days. So forgive me for having nothing new to post.

Here's what I'm listening to tonight. Consider it my apology cookie.

Does anyone remember...

I was going to ask if anyone remembers records, but they're coming back into style, so the question becomes ironic but in the way that makes me look oblivious, not cool.

Speaking of records, I had the "Annie" soundtrack when I was a wee punk.

I don't think I'd seen the movie at that point, but I owned the record. It was mine, and I loved it, then loved it again and even more once I had seen the movie.

Speaking of "Annie," my younger sister (I have five younger sisters) posts this as her Facebook status yesterday:

"Your never fully dressed without a SMILE!!!!! :)"

... That's a direct quote. Ahem.

So, I, being who I am, must quote back another line from "Annie," and, in order to do so properly, make sure to check the lyrics online first. Checking lyrics reminds me how much I loved this movie twenty-five years ago. This reminder sends me to Youtube. Youtube teases me with clips. Which leads us here, now, at this moment.

You know the delight -- and sometimes horror -- of watching and listening to something as an adult that thrilled you as a child? You know the feeling of finally understanding something that eluded you all those years ago? The jokes that you didn't get? The boring plot lines that you couldn't grasp why they were so funny to other people?

Friends, Loved Ones, Internet Strangers, being an adult takes "Annie" to a whole new level. A reeeeeally good one. I get it. I catch the nuances and subtleties. The boring parts are precious. I get it.

Like this. I thought this sequence was barely tolerable as a six year old. Now? I want to dance like this. all.the.time.

Now, to be fair to my kindergarten self, my love for Tim Curry began with "Annie," and even at such a young age, I knew enough to appreciate Carol Burnett. But Bernadette Peters!

This is the last one, I swear. It's just... I get it now!

Dude, being a grown-up rocks.

Coming to confess...

I'm sorry my last post was freakishly long. Forgive me. This one will be more brief. Even my sentences will be more brief. I hope this will appease you.

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.

• I am not Catholic, have never been Catholic, have never researched Catholicism and don't know anyone who's a practicing Catholic. I only know the above line from TV and movies. I'm not even entirely sure I got it right.
• I am incapable of writing short sentences.
• I made cookies for no good reason, just to bake. I didn't even want cookies.
• Then I ate five cookies even though I knew with every bite that I didn't really want the cookies and will always be a dumpy hausfrau.
• My cookies had dairy and eggs. I am a bad, bad vegan, as in not one at all.
• There is 2% milk in my fridge, left over from when my mom and Beth and their crew were here, and no one will touch it. I'm going to have to dump half a gallon of perfectly fine 2% milk down the drain simply because it's dairy and none of us will touch it.
• That 2% milk is one of four cartons of various milks in my fridge. The others are Silk vanilla almond milk, Trader Joe's soymilk (for Bryan's tea, should he choose to have any), and Trader Joe's rice milk which is what we use for cereal and cooking and baking. We are beyond weird about milk over here.

...Cookie?

In Lieu of Coherency: a pointless story

At some point yesterday afternoon, I began to feel an insane headache coming on. I don't get many headaches, and what few I do are mostly ignorable. I hate to medicate. However, this one was affecting my eyes and stomach and didn't feel like my usual "Lord, I'm getting old" sinus headache. I believe it was in reaction to my decision to clean the apartment. A defense mechanism, if you will.

Rather than medicate, I bought new sunglasses, we came home ,and I laid down for a while. Got up and turned on music, made dinner and fed my family. Sat down to my laptop and decided that of course! Tonight was the night for Avatar!

I am an idiot.

I ran from the apartment, as the online description assured me that the movie started at 7:30 and it was then 7:15. Ten minutes to get to the theater from here -- hoping and praying it's the right one as there are two theaters on the same stretch of road within a quarter mile of each other, and I always go to the wrong one, the one NOT showing the movie I want to see -- only to find out that the movie begins at 8:00.

Oh. Okay. Excellent.

Ticket, 3D glasses and a half hour wait outside of their one 3D screening room while the various workers cleaned from the last show which was still letting out when I and a handful of my compatriots arrived. I stood in the corridor and tweeted and texted Bryan and fantasized about having a phone that not only played all of my music as my Sony Ericsson w580i does beautifully -- I'm very loyal -- but also texts with ease and has other fun features that could keep me occupied for half an hour as I wait for a movie. However, as much as I adore my practically old-fashioned phone, it's not terribly entertaining when not acting as my mp3 player, so I contented myself with listening to the other would-be movie-goers while pretending not to be paying any attention. This is what I learned: somewhere in Georgia there is snowboarding. I have never been snowboarding, but the mere fact that this opportunity exists excites me. I also learned that high-schoolers can be inappropriately affectionate in public. I also learned that yesterday, Avatar had been released exactly one month before.

The overall lesson is this: people are interesting.

The theater opened, newly cleaned. We poured in, like new wine. The snowboarders sat exactly in the row & position that I would have chosen -- durnit -- so I ended up in the row ahead of them, a mite too near the screen for comfort, but whatever; the seats are like recliners, so I just snuggled back as much as I could to make viewing less nauseating. I listened to the people around me and tweeted about it, wishing I knew how to dim the screen on my phone so I could tweet during the movie because I hate not having someone to talk to during a movie; Bryan and Bethany can both attest to this. I like to make comments and share snickers. (When I went to see Lion, Witch and the Wardrobe several years ago with my extended family, I actually ran up the aisle during the preview for Curious George so I could point out to my parents, seated further back, that the name of the ship was the H.A. Rey. You know, the author of the Curious George books? Yeah, my parents didn't care either.) Previews began. Screen froze. Guys behind me commented about loading icons, depending on the operating system that the theater is using. Previews began again. Guys behind me commented on how these previews are in 3D, no, wait, they aren't? No, they aren't. But they're orange if you wear the glasses. I was loving the annoying talking behind me.

The movie began. The movie was awesome. The movie was beautiful and lush and fun. I laughed inappropriately when no one else was laughing which is totally normal, so I knew I wasn't dead from the headache just yet. That's right, still nursing that headache, and, unsurprisingly, the headache worsened, more and more as the movie went on. I routinely dropped the 3D glasses practically to my chin so I could clamp my hands over my eyes and temples. Never for very long, though; I didn't want to miss any visuals. By the time the movie ended, I was as good as blind. I thoroughly enjoyed the movie, but I. Hurt. I'm glad we live so close to the theater, because I can drive home with my eyes open and brain on auto-pilot, and I did.

I don't medicate headaches if I can help it, but when I do, I have the verybesteverIloveitsomuch medicine, Advil Cold & Sinus, which is actually Bryan's drug of choice for his insane and inexplicable headaches. I have to buy it from the pharmacy because it contains the evil pseudoephedrine, but that evil pseudoephedrine is my illicit lover. I suspect the day will come when I leave Bryan and run away with pseudoephedrine to live on a beach somewhere.

Forty minutes after the movie, my killer headache was numb and I was again functioning. I went to bed, where I dozed and reveled in my lack of murderous headache and fantasized about Avatar. By the time I finally fell asleep, I'd decided I need to watch it again, this time without the headache from Sheol.

I want to be able to give Jake Sully my full attention.

Yum.