Friday Night Fever

I love kids. I really do. I love lots of things about children... they are funny, meticulous about the funniest things, procure the strangest habits (especially ones of an eating nature) and the number one thing I love about kids is that I don't have any.

I'm in charge of Captain D Jr. this fine Friday evening, and baby bear has a temperature and possibly the strep throat. Strep throat is a four letter curse word that is worse than any spell you could even wand at me. When someone in my office says "I think I have strep or something" my psychosematic tendencies go straight into overdrive. *POOF* itchy throat and swollen tonsils. Anyways, not the point of this story.

So, here I am with a wilted and sad six year old who's only chance at making it through the night was to get several movies at Blockbuster, and the lady behind the counter refuses to give me the movies because I am not Mrs. Captain D. Oh boy. Here we are, I'm holding a very sick, deadweight, gangly boy, AND trying not to breathe the same air as he is, AND trying to reason with this woman. I would like to take this opportunity to say YOU ARE WELCOME as I am not going to paint a picture with my words as to what this woman looked like, but it was very apparent that she was destined to be the gatekeeper of "Horton Hears a Who". Finally Jake looks up at the Blockbuster nazi and says "LADY, I'M SICK AND TIRED AND I WANNA GO HOME, SO GIVE US THE MOVIES".

It worked. I swiped the card, signed my name and ran for our lives before she decided to stupefy us or call the cops for fraud (I used Mrs. Captain D's credit card, and told her that I didn't have my ID on me because it had been stolen. Which is not a lie, I have had my ID stolen twice...)

Amazingly enough, I was so shocked and stunned that I didn't start laughing hysterically until we got to the car. Out of sheer curiousity, I asked Jake why he yelled at the Blockbuster lady, and he says this: I don't get what her problem is. We give her the money, she gives us the movies. It's easy.

Oh life through the eyes of a six year old. Never afraid to say what he means or what he 'needs' and most definitely not afraid to be firm about his intentions when someone is being less than accomodating. I need to take a lesson.

things i learned this week

1. Britney's concerts are lots of flash and flair, but the girl can actually sing. I wish MTV still did their unplugged series, she would be awesome. Also, as super as all her other songs are, the crowd still goes wildest for "Baby One More Time" Which I think is neat-o.
2. Being responsible is a daily (sometimes hourly/minutely/secondly) decision. If I can't be responsible in my late twenties, when will I actually be accountable to myself??
3. School, homework and test still SUCK.
4. I miss leisure reading.
5. "Finding" time to go to the gym will never happen.
6. I really wanted to ditch work and school and go to Brit's concert in Dallas tonight. Captain DT reminded me that I had obligations and commitments that superseded Ms. Spears and that I had already seen her once this week. Being old is negative fun.

things i've learned this week

1. Chemistry is hard. There is a reason that I have removed this chapter of my high school experience from my brain. It is highly conceptual and not really that important to what I want to do with my life.

2. Diligence is even more hard. When I commit to do something, it is not the purpose to which I make my committment, it is the decision to follow through to which I bind myself.

3. I love hot tamales so much that I become obsessed with them. I will eat every last one that is in my sight.

4. I'm still allergic to the ever so infamous "stoli oli"

5. Whenever a combustion occurs, the result is ALWAYS carbon dioxide and water. ALWAYS.

6. Patience is a virtue that is much more stubborn than I am.

attitude of gratitude

I was reading one of those little email things [it's been sloooow here on the ranch lately] about how little kids describe love. There were so many very sweet things on there, and then I read this one.....

"During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore."Cindy - age 8

And I almost had a breakdown.

If you have ever participated in a piano recital, especially a big one where you are playing Beethoven from memory and being graded, you know what a nightmare it is. Your hands start sweating way before your name is called. Sweaty digits are a tried and true recipe for recital disaster. When the lady with the extremely thick glasses, too tight nest-y bun, and gaudy rings calls your name... you have a large puddle of perspiration in the middle of your back and your panty hose is stuck to your legs in the worst way. You get up on blindingly lit stage and look at the people in the audience. The majority of the audience is hoping you screw up so that they a better grade and ranked ahead of you, and this feeling automatically triggers the bile to swell in your mouth. Then you see your mom and your dad sitting on the edge of their seat with these ridiculous smiles on their face. They are waving and blowing kisses. They can't wait to hear you play Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata for the 19th million time. They have heard you butcher it, play the same stanzas over and over, helped you with your crescendos and decrescendos, listened to your dispairs, encouraged you to keep playing, and celebrated with you the first time you played the whole thing flawlessly. They believe in you.

Life is much like a piano recital. The majority of the people in my audience are keeping their fingers crossed that I fail, while others are silently judging my performance and critiquing my abilities. Whispers and giggles run rampant through the sea of jerks, but when I see my Mom and Dad out there waving their silly waves and smiling their biggest smiles, I'm not scared anymore.

My cup runneth over.

Things I learned this week

1. I miss one of my college roomates more than anything in the whole entire world. The other one, I wish would just fall off the face of the earth.
2. My obsession with Keith Urban has be rejeuvenated and he is truly the sweetest country singer ever. "Only You Can Love Me This Way" makes me cry. Everytime.
3. Crunchwrap Supremes are still delicious.
4. My Grandma's birthday was this week. I think death sucks.
5. I had a chance encounter with two ex boyfriends in the same place this weekend. One I can't stand, the other I can't live without, and I thought they would be vice versa. Life is funny when it happens to you.

Class of '99

Oh ten year high school reunion. How much unexpected fun you were. It's so hilarious to me to see where everyone is, and to think that a very short ten years ago, we were walking across a very small stage with forty of our best friends, with big dreams and wishes, but then a big monster comes up behind the unexpecting baby dreams and infant wishes and gobbles them right up and washes them down with a giant glass of scorn.

I thought I had lots of time. People kept telling me: "Oh you are so young" Huh. Well, guess what I woke up today, and I'm gonna be 29 in two-ish months, and I can honestly say I have not lived up to my fullest potential. Not even close. Why did I think it was just going to fall into my lap? When did I assume that after a college education and a few letters behing my name would mean that I could stop bettering myself? Complacency has never been apart of my life before. When I was in sports, we never got a pat on the back for being "good". We could have just beat our biggest rival and the gym could be on fire with our praise, and my coach would stop us and say, "Why didn't you run the last press correctly? Get on the line." I used to strive for perfection. I once got a C in a college class, and retook the ENTIRE class over my senior year so that I wouldn't have a C on my transcript. The old addage "C's get degrees" wasn't even on the radar for me. Completely unacceptable. Why did I think that the real world would just fall at my feet? Not sure. But I'm here to tell you that was tragically not the case.

Bad News: I have stopped climbing and started camping. Good News: I'm almost 29, single, and I can fix it.

Big Big decisions are being made. I'm standing on a cliff and either I jump now and enjoy the ride, or life will have me thrown off and I'll scream and fight the whole way down.

I'm jumping.

Yikes.

come up to meet you, tell you i'm sorry

I've spent the last few days in mourning for something that I thought was no longer apart of my existence. Read: a relationship. So, in my silly grieving state, I have been listening to all kinds of troubadour ballads, and I stumble upon this quote from William Fitzsimmons (who is the undisputed King of Troubadours)

"The funny thing about listening to songs you found at intensive times in your life is they act as a landmark of affectivity; reminding you where you were at first listen, and giving insight into where you are today. What you've gained, what you've lost, insights you would have preferred but which only come in their own time. Over the last several months I have noticed a real and salient sea change. It's a good thing. Would I trade the pain? Yes. Yes. Yes. But would I trade the invaluable wisdom such difficulties bring? No. Never. Knowledge only comes with a price, I suppose."

It's borderline comical how for such a long time I would strive to go back to the beginning. I'm blaming this on Chris Martin Chapter One. Of course I wanna go back to chapter one, chapter one was butterflies and unicorns. Lately, I wanna go back to Chapter 3945 or maybe 98651, because that's where the mistakes are. I want the opportunity to change those Chapters, which is of course ludicrous. So here's in hopes that the insights that I would have preferred in those points in time have refined me for the unwritten pages.

I'm just hoping that I have the unrequited silent strength it takes to fight this battle, not only becuase the risk is well worth the reward, but also because the person that I'm fighting looks back at me in a reflection.