It's well established that I enjoy the soccer. That's not a shock to anyone. I also really enjoy it when teams I like win. And even better than that is when the team I like has a hard luck story.
Like, say, the only way the team can advance to the next round of a tournament is through math and goal differential. And that happens. Yeah, its exciting. Unlikely as can be. But it is exciting when that happens. But it rarely happens.
And it never happens that I can recall with US Men's National Team (USMNT for short). But it did with the Confederations Cup this past week. And even more improbable than beating Egypt by 3 to advance is beating their semi-final opponent. That opponent is Spain. About to set a record for most games won Spain. Spain that has not lost a game since 2006. FIFA ranked #1 Spain. That Spain.
And the USMNT did it. Thanks to great defense (I have such love for Jay DeMerit now - who knew?) and two goals from Jozy Altidore and Clint Dempsey.
I am happy. I haven't stopped smiling. It's nice to support a team that wins. I'm getting a little superstitous about Sunday's final against either Brazil or South Africa.
I have nothing to add. My love for Clint Dempsey runs wild. I can't explain it. I have loved him since the 2006 World Cup. I tried to see him play with the Revs twice and he was suspended for both matches. That made me sad.
But here's old school Clint Dempsey. It's ridiculous. And I love it.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Ritual
Like clockwork, I started my Todd Snider summertime obsession. Every year about this time, I start to think about sitting on wraparound porches, sipping sweet tea and listening exclusively to Todd Snider. He comforts me. Especially when I'm stressed.
And lately, work has been crazy. Home has been crazy. And my mind is just out of control. So to calm myself, I pop in Todd Snider and smile. His drawl causes a grin. His lyrics make me laugh. And he's kinda fun. He just seems like someone that would be fun to hang out with and spend time. He's just a great storyteller.
Anywhere... here is a song from Todd Snider's album. It's a great story. I've been listening to it on repeat here at work as I sip on some sweet tea and look out my window at a currently not raining sky.
And lately, work has been crazy. Home has been crazy. And my mind is just out of control. So to calm myself, I pop in Todd Snider and smile. His drawl causes a grin. His lyrics make me laugh. And he's kinda fun. He just seems like someone that would be fun to hang out with and spend time. He's just a great storyteller.
Anywhere... here is a song from Todd Snider's album. It's a great story. I've been listening to it on repeat here at work as I sip on some sweet tea and look out my window at a currently not raining sky.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Soccer rant for early June
I had hoped that at some point I would post fairly regularly about soccer. But, that has not happened. There are a lot of reasons why that has not happened.
First, I am a Napoli fan. And they have sucked this year. And by year, I mean 2009. They were amazing in the first half of the season - the part that was in 2008. But in 2009 - they have been not so hot. If they had not been such a strong team early on, they'd be fighting to remain in Serie A. One coach was fired and now they have Donadoni. I like Donadoni. Many don't. Many were angered by what he did to the National Team during the Euro. And while I agree that he really didn't seem to put together the best team, I wonder how much of that was him or how much was him bowing to pressure as to what players to bring forward. I think he has the talent to bring together a young time and think creatively. Of course, he's dealing with the big name talent wanting to leave. I am of the "let him go" mentality. The team signed the fabulously talented Fabio Quagliarella. He's home grown talent and could do well in Lavezzi's spot. But that's next year. This past half season was hard to watch. It was hard to muster excitement for a team that could not manage to win. (Except for when they beat first place Inter Milan.)
Secondly, soccer is sacred to me. I'm afraid that if I write about my fandom, it loses a bit of it's luster. But, I also talk about it obsessively, so it's hard to balance that line.
Thirdly, I was thinking it was not a big summer soccer year. And then I remembered the Confederations Cup. Plus there's some nifty World Cup qualifiers coming up around the bend.
And Fourthly, I never really know what to write about when it comes to soccer. Or calcio. Or football. I mean, do I focus on silly things like horrible kits. Or do what the ladies at http://www.kickette.com/ do so well. Or do I pretend to know what the hell I'm talking about when discussing the play.
I think I'll tackle all of these things. Watching soccer is sacred. How I watch soccer is sacred. I don't like being distracted when I'm watching a match I care about. I don't like being around people who don't understand the sport when I'm watching any match.
I've written about the wonder of community during a soccer match. I've written about my distress at seeing my favorite team flounder this past year. I've written about how pretty a game it is to watch. For, um, many reasons.
The FIFA Confederations Cup starts soon. And that makes me happy. It makes me very happy to be able to watch international soccer again. I look forward to watching Italy play the United States in a few days. However, I'm worried as well.
I'll root for the US to do well. It's what I do. I may have been brought up on Italian soccer but the US is still where I live. And I would like them to do well. Except. Well...
Okay, so I've watched the last two US World Cup qualifiers. And it was not a pretty affair. Far from it in fact. It pissed me off. They won the second match thanks to a BEAUTIFUL goal by the equally beautiful Carlos Bocanegra. (Incidentally, this goal led to me recieving a text from a friend proclaiming "I want Boca's baby." And my reply which was "You'll have to fight me for him.") But the team lacked something.
And this is where I find myself quoting Alexi Lalas (God help me...) - they didn't have heart. They did not seem to care that much. Not the whole team. I mean, Ricardo Clarke was incredible. And I do have to give it up for Conor Casey aka the battering ram. But I'm really just proclaiming my love of a guy one of the commentators referred to as a battering ram. Nothing more there.
But, the big names. The ones that US Soccer has been talking about for years. They didn't have heart consistently. And that's a problem. To win anything in life you have to want it. And they did not. Or at least that's what it looked like to me. Even though they won on Saturday, I'm still worried that after almost EIGHT years no one knows what to do with Landon Donovan. He's clearly gifted. And when he cares, his play is incredible. But then there are those moments where he just sort of phones it in.
You don't phone it in on the pitch.
First, I am a Napoli fan. And they have sucked this year. And by year, I mean 2009. They were amazing in the first half of the season - the part that was in 2008. But in 2009 - they have been not so hot. If they had not been such a strong team early on, they'd be fighting to remain in Serie A. One coach was fired and now they have Donadoni. I like Donadoni. Many don't. Many were angered by what he did to the National Team during the Euro. And while I agree that he really didn't seem to put together the best team, I wonder how much of that was him or how much was him bowing to pressure as to what players to bring forward. I think he has the talent to bring together a young time and think creatively. Of course, he's dealing with the big name talent wanting to leave. I am of the "let him go" mentality. The team signed the fabulously talented Fabio Quagliarella. He's home grown talent and could do well in Lavezzi's spot. But that's next year. This past half season was hard to watch. It was hard to muster excitement for a team that could not manage to win. (Except for when they beat first place Inter Milan.)
Secondly, soccer is sacred to me. I'm afraid that if I write about my fandom, it loses a bit of it's luster. But, I also talk about it obsessively, so it's hard to balance that line.
Thirdly, I was thinking it was not a big summer soccer year. And then I remembered the Confederations Cup. Plus there's some nifty World Cup qualifiers coming up around the bend.
And Fourthly, I never really know what to write about when it comes to soccer. Or calcio. Or football. I mean, do I focus on silly things like horrible kits. Or do what the ladies at http://www.kickette.com/ do so well. Or do I pretend to know what the hell I'm talking about when discussing the play.
I think I'll tackle all of these things. Watching soccer is sacred. How I watch soccer is sacred. I don't like being distracted when I'm watching a match I care about. I don't like being around people who don't understand the sport when I'm watching any match.
I've written about the wonder of community during a soccer match. I've written about my distress at seeing my favorite team flounder this past year. I've written about how pretty a game it is to watch. For, um, many reasons.
The FIFA Confederations Cup starts soon. And that makes me happy. It makes me very happy to be able to watch international soccer again. I look forward to watching Italy play the United States in a few days. However, I'm worried as well.
I'll root for the US to do well. It's what I do. I may have been brought up on Italian soccer but the US is still where I live. And I would like them to do well. Except. Well...
Okay, so I've watched the last two US World Cup qualifiers. And it was not a pretty affair. Far from it in fact. It pissed me off. They won the second match thanks to a BEAUTIFUL goal by the equally beautiful Carlos Bocanegra. (Incidentally, this goal led to me recieving a text from a friend proclaiming "I want Boca's baby." And my reply which was "You'll have to fight me for him.") But the team lacked something.
And this is where I find myself quoting Alexi Lalas (God help me...) - they didn't have heart. They did not seem to care that much. Not the whole team. I mean, Ricardo Clarke was incredible. And I do have to give it up for Conor Casey aka the battering ram. But I'm really just proclaiming my love of a guy one of the commentators referred to as a battering ram. Nothing more there.
But, the big names. The ones that US Soccer has been talking about for years. They didn't have heart consistently. And that's a problem. To win anything in life you have to want it. And they did not. Or at least that's what it looked like to me. Even though they won on Saturday, I'm still worried that after almost EIGHT years no one knows what to do with Landon Donovan. He's clearly gifted. And when he cares, his play is incredible. But then there are those moments where he just sort of phones it in.
You don't phone it in on the pitch.
And I get angry.
But that anger is part of what makes me love this sport so much. Being so passionately angry about how badly my team may be messing it up is what makes me love this sport so much.
Monday, June 08, 2009
Unsettling
I woke up this morning early. I had a doctor appointment about 45 minutes away from my house at 7:30. I noticed that my computer was on so I decided to shut it down and as I went to do so, I noticed a new email. It was from a cousin in Italy. Someone I have never met. Someone I did not actually know existed until a few months ago.
Attached to the email was a picture of her and my mom and a third person. My mom is probably 16 or so in the picture. She's gorgeous. Her smile radiates out of her. I saw the picture and smiled. Said "Hi Mamma!"
I had to shut down and leave the house. The picture left my thoughts for a while as I drove to Storrs. Met with a new doctor and discussed why I was still having "tummy issues." It's been ten months since I was diagnosed with celiac and I thought I'd feel better now. But, I'm not consistently feeling great. One suggestion to emerge is giving up coffee. And while I hate that idea, I realize it's probably worthwhile to attempt. I notice how I feel when I drink coffee on occassion. It doesn't sit well. I decided to give it the old college try and give it up. Maybe just giving my system a rest from certain irritants will make a difference. It's logical. It makes sense. So goodbye to coffee. For a little while at least.
When I made it into work and booted up my computer, I remembered the email. I clicked on the picture again and smiled. But am so unsettled. I don't know who this woman staring at me is. I want to know who she is. I want to know this version of my mother. I got robbed of that experience and I'll never get over that.
I think it might be time to call my uncle. Or send a card. Or hand over an olive branch. I think I'm ready to start thinking about it. I just don't know if I'm ready to go to that place yet. Or how to even get to that place.
But as I figure it out, I'll just look at my pictures and smile. I miss that smile. We saw it so rarely in her last few years. It's nice to see it here.
Attached to the email was a picture of her and my mom and a third person. My mom is probably 16 or so in the picture. She's gorgeous. Her smile radiates out of her. I saw the picture and smiled. Said "Hi Mamma!"
I had to shut down and leave the house. The picture left my thoughts for a while as I drove to Storrs. Met with a new doctor and discussed why I was still having "tummy issues." It's been ten months since I was diagnosed with celiac and I thought I'd feel better now. But, I'm not consistently feeling great. One suggestion to emerge is giving up coffee. And while I hate that idea, I realize it's probably worthwhile to attempt. I notice how I feel when I drink coffee on occassion. It doesn't sit well. I decided to give it the old college try and give it up. Maybe just giving my system a rest from certain irritants will make a difference. It's logical. It makes sense. So goodbye to coffee. For a little while at least.
When I made it into work and booted up my computer, I remembered the email. I clicked on the picture again and smiled. But am so unsettled. I don't know who this woman staring at me is. I want to know who she is. I want to know this version of my mother. I got robbed of that experience and I'll never get over that.
I think it might be time to call my uncle. Or send a card. Or hand over an olive branch. I think I'm ready to start thinking about it. I just don't know if I'm ready to go to that place yet. Or how to even get to that place.
But as I figure it out, I'll just look at my pictures and smile. I miss that smile. We saw it so rarely in her last few years. It's nice to see it here.
Friday, June 05, 2009
day away
I went away on Saturday and spent the day in New York. I enjoy spending the day but am fairly certain I could never tolerate living there. But honestly, I am not so sure.
I'm currently debating buying a house. I'm not sure where or what sort of place I want. I think I'd prefer a house, but maybe not. I like the idea of owning a house, but at the same time, I am not always the most handy.
As for where, I think I'd like to be somewhere sparsely populated however ... I think I'd like a small city or a larger town. I like the idea of being able to walk to things. I want to live in a place where I can walk somewhere for a carton of milk or a cup of coffee.
But right now, I'm just searching. Thinking.
As for other stuff in life, I love The Tonight Show with Conan O'Brien. It makes me so ridiculously happy. I love that Conan is back. I remember when I first watched the Late Show. I taped it on my vcr. You remember those, right. Video Cassette Recorders. Remember, you had to program the times. I always liked to add 5 or ten minutes to start and ending times just in case.
But I taped it that night because I had been hearing about this new show with this guy who was taking over for David Letterman. I did not know much about Letterman - all I really knew was his penchant for double breasted suits, because my brother was a big fan of Letterman and the double breasted jacket.
But I was in high school. When I came home, I popped in the video. It was a well loved video cassette and was not the best quality, but Radiohead was the musical guest. That day or the next day, I went out to buy Pablo Honey because I was so impressed by that band.
I remember walking away from that first taste of Conan with a curiosity and interest that never went away. It was like when I first watched an episode of The State. You do remember The State, don't you?
As life went on, I would watch Conan sporadically. I did not care much about the guests. I loved the bits. I loved Conan and Andy. And Max Weinberg. I remember falling asleep to Conan during college nights in my dorm room.
I was always amused. I would laugh out loud. When Conan would come up in conversation with people, I passed judgment if they were not a fan. I did. I try to not hold it against. But in my mind there's two kinds of people - those who love Conan and those who "don't get him." He's funny. You just have to get it.
And if you are not sure if he's funny - watch and decide.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Diet Coke in grass by Anna
This is one of the first pictures with my new shiny and expensive and beautiful and wonderful camera. Love it.
However I didn't take it. Anna did. My niece. She decided to take a fancy picture of the diet coke bottle laying in the grass. Because it would be funny. Oh children...
Knowledge
It's been brought to my attention that I tend to hyper obsess over things and crave perfection. Or can overwhelm myself with things that are not really that important. Or get overly angry about things that aren't really a big deal.
It's a problem. I know that. And I'm beginning to work on it in very little ways.
For example, a memorial mass is being said for my mother this coming Sunday. I told my brothers about it last week. Old me would remind them again this week. But I decided not to. I told them once. It's on them to write it in a calendar and remember. It's on my dad to remind them again. But I don't have to stay on them. They're big boys.
That may not be a big deal, but it is actually huge for me. I can't constantly be worrying about making sure everyone does what they are supposed to do. Because, well, I don't have that kind of time or energy or desire anymore. And so begin the baby steps. So much of my life has been spent taking care of people that it's time I focused on me. This is what I keep reading. Or hearing. Or being told. Or lectured. Or yelled at about.
You know people, they care so much.
But, that's my knowledge for this week. Also part of my knowledge for this week - I need to fucking write more. I swear rarely in this blog. But it's called for in this instance. And I'm going to start by committing to regular writing dates for this slarfing blog. You hear that people? Er.. Person? All one of you that read this. I'm going to write here regularly!
And together with that knowledge of my need to write more is my need to play with my camera more often. I bought a new one. An expensive one. It's my new baby. And I finally bought it when I realized that I waste tooooo much time worrying about money. Yes, money is important. But so is making myself happy by buying the camera I was too "practical" to buy last year. So, my dear Canon Rebe xsi -I love you. I really really do. This is what love is all about. Isn't it?
It's a problem. I know that. And I'm beginning to work on it in very little ways.
For example, a memorial mass is being said for my mother this coming Sunday. I told my brothers about it last week. Old me would remind them again this week. But I decided not to. I told them once. It's on them to write it in a calendar and remember. It's on my dad to remind them again. But I don't have to stay on them. They're big boys.
That may not be a big deal, but it is actually huge for me. I can't constantly be worrying about making sure everyone does what they are supposed to do. Because, well, I don't have that kind of time or energy or desire anymore. And so begin the baby steps. So much of my life has been spent taking care of people that it's time I focused on me. This is what I keep reading. Or hearing. Or being told. Or lectured. Or yelled at about.
You know people, they care so much.
But, that's my knowledge for this week. Also part of my knowledge for this week - I need to fucking write more. I swear rarely in this blog. But it's called for in this instance. And I'm going to start by committing to regular writing dates for this slarfing blog. You hear that people? Er.. Person? All one of you that read this. I'm going to write here regularly!
And together with that knowledge of my need to write more is my need to play with my camera more often. I bought a new one. An expensive one. It's my new baby. And I finally bought it when I realized that I waste tooooo much time worrying about money. Yes, money is important. But so is making myself happy by buying the camera I was too "practical" to buy last year. So, my dear Canon Rebe xsi -I love you. I really really do. This is what love is all about. Isn't it?
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
procrastination
I sat down tonight to do some writing. Evie (the name of my forever plaguing novel) needs to be edited. She's done now. And just needs massive editing. But somehow instead of working on that, I'm here. Intent to post pictures of my new room. I have not yet come up with a name for this room. It's my little cave. A girl cave if you will. It's where all my time will essentially be spent.
There is work to be done yet. I have not yet put anything up on the walls and am still missing one beloved orange chair and still need to figure out how to work the cubes as coffee table. But, I like the space. I like certain aspects of the space.
This is the basic room from the doorway.
I have prints for all the bare wall present. They just need to be framed and put up. Decorating walls is one place where my few obsessive compulsive decorating tendencies come to light. The frames have to match. I don't care what the little frames look like. In fact, I like variety and eclecticism there. But on the wall they have to match in tone. Not the exact same frame, but color and style must be similar. If not, things just look crazy and out of control.
This is the other side of the room.
I hate that desk. I really do. I loathe it. I have a lot of desk issues lately (see twitter conversations about the work desk). But I am over this desk. I bought it about seven years ago when I was still in law school and had a very different computer. And it was in a very different location. But, now, I don't have a desktop tower anymore. I don't need the hutch. I don't have any need or desire for that desk. But until I am struck by the perfect desk, I will not buy one. I need to love that desk that replaces this one. It needs to be the desk I will have for years and until that desk is located, I will put up with this one.
This is one particular decorative feature I've impressed myself with.
The hooks were left there by my dad. He used to sleep in this room and put the hooks up for his clothes. I did not want to deal with taking them down and potentially not being able to appropriately smooth the wall down in that one spot and having the paint look different. And I have a lot of pictures of my nieces and nephew that are fun and goofy that I like to rotate. Note the awesome orange ribbon.
Other places I want orange to feature, the file cabinet. In the first picture you'll note that the file cabinet is serving as a make shift tv stand. It's not ideal and was not the plan, but since this doubles as my office in addition to my living space, I needed the cabinet and it fit no where else. I have a few ideas for the cabinet - wallpaper, fabric, decoupage. I'm thinking fabric now, mainly because it's easy and quick and could look instantly neat.
Other things I'm digging in the room - the tiara in the spider plant for whimsy and fun, the prominently feature book "How SASSSY Changed My Life," the successful hiding away of the wee, my mom's red cane displayed in a corner, near my guitar.
The room is coming along. I'm hoping it will look less "first apartment" and more like my hideaway when I'm done.
There is work to be done yet. I have not yet put anything up on the walls and am still missing one beloved orange chair and still need to figure out how to work the cubes as coffee table. But, I like the space. I like certain aspects of the space.
This is the basic room from the doorway.
I have prints for all the bare wall present. They just need to be framed and put up. Decorating walls is one place where my few obsessive compulsive decorating tendencies come to light. The frames have to match. I don't care what the little frames look like. In fact, I like variety and eclecticism there. But on the wall they have to match in tone. Not the exact same frame, but color and style must be similar. If not, things just look crazy and out of control.
This is the other side of the room.
I hate that desk. I really do. I loathe it. I have a lot of desk issues lately (see twitter conversations about the work desk). But I am over this desk. I bought it about seven years ago when I was still in law school and had a very different computer. And it was in a very different location. But, now, I don't have a desktop tower anymore. I don't need the hutch. I don't have any need or desire for that desk. But until I am struck by the perfect desk, I will not buy one. I need to love that desk that replaces this one. It needs to be the desk I will have for years and until that desk is located, I will put up with this one.
This is one particular decorative feature I've impressed myself with.
The hooks were left there by my dad. He used to sleep in this room and put the hooks up for his clothes. I did not want to deal with taking them down and potentially not being able to appropriately smooth the wall down in that one spot and having the paint look different. And I have a lot of pictures of my nieces and nephew that are fun and goofy that I like to rotate. Note the awesome orange ribbon.
Other places I want orange to feature, the file cabinet. In the first picture you'll note that the file cabinet is serving as a make shift tv stand. It's not ideal and was not the plan, but since this doubles as my office in addition to my living space, I needed the cabinet and it fit no where else. I have a few ideas for the cabinet - wallpaper, fabric, decoupage. I'm thinking fabric now, mainly because it's easy and quick and could look instantly neat.
Other things I'm digging in the room - the tiara in the spider plant for whimsy and fun, the prominently feature book "How SASSSY Changed My Life," the successful hiding away of the wee, my mom's red cane displayed in a corner, near my guitar.
The room is coming along. I'm hoping it will look less "first apartment" and more like my hideaway when I'm done.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Sometimes it's just supposed to be that way...
Every once in a while it seems like I am on exactly the right track in life. (More often than not it feels like I've totally swerved off track and am about to hit a huge tree, but I digress...)
This has been one of those weeks so far. It's only Tuesday so there is still a long way to go, but it's been a good start. I actually started the day yesterday with complete anger and grrrness. The day was awful. It was just horrible. My office was hosting a town hall wide breakfast. It was a nice event - but completely stressful to plan. Stressful because of the staff and just the timing and the fact that I felt crappy and well, it was Monday and I didn't want to be at work. Then there were meetings I did not want to go. And just never felt like I got anything done.
At some point though, I decided to change my outlook. I began thinking about "things I like." Such as dandelion chains. And showtunes. And my favorite books. Movies. Sunny days. Good coffee.
It sort of worked. And I spent the evening at a seminar learning about what is required to open a solo practice. I have no decisions made. I don't know what I'm doing. But, it was a good thing for me to learn about. And while there I ran into an old advisor of mine who is in sort of the same place. And it amazes me how many people are in this place.
Today had grr potential. But it never happened. I kept myself fairly positive. A lot of different things went wrong, but I opted not to stress. I also found out that I was selected to work on a committee in the state bar association. I need to decide this week and I want to do it. I think. It's hard for me to commit to this. At one level I want to because I am supposed to want to be good at my job and at some point I should advance. Shouldn't I? My ambivalence has less to do with the work than with the commitment to being a lawyer. I need to commit to being a lawyer, but I don't want to. Wasn't I supposed to be living this wonderfully creative life? Shouldn't my life has some meaning? Isn't there more to my life than being a lawyer? And why is it all so exclusive? And why does it stress me out to refer to myself as one? And why did it really weird me out when another attorney said "we speak the same language?"
These are all questions I need to figure out answers to. At some point. And I guess I'm getting there. I've been reading a lot of books on living a creative life outside the daily grind. I figure at some point I'll have it all figured out. It will just take me a while.
And then there was the best random happenstance of my week. I was in Target picking up a prescription to deal with my allergies. I decided to walk out a different way thinking I would look at the cameras. As I did that, I ran into my parents' oldest friends. I had not seen them in a while. I think since my mom's funeral. But, it was good to see them. It felt soooo nice to talk to them. And if I had just walked outside after picking up my prescriptions and not thought about the camera - I wouldn't have run into them. And I feel much better for having run into them.
Sometimes it pays to just take a different way out. Sometimes it worth taking on a role you are not entirely comfortable with just to see what it gets you.
This has been one of those weeks so far. It's only Tuesday so there is still a long way to go, but it's been a good start. I actually started the day yesterday with complete anger and grrrness. The day was awful. It was just horrible. My office was hosting a town hall wide breakfast. It was a nice event - but completely stressful to plan. Stressful because of the staff and just the timing and the fact that I felt crappy and well, it was Monday and I didn't want to be at work. Then there were meetings I did not want to go. And just never felt like I got anything done.
At some point though, I decided to change my outlook. I began thinking about "things I like." Such as dandelion chains. And showtunes. And my favorite books. Movies. Sunny days. Good coffee.
It sort of worked. And I spent the evening at a seminar learning about what is required to open a solo practice. I have no decisions made. I don't know what I'm doing. But, it was a good thing for me to learn about. And while there I ran into an old advisor of mine who is in sort of the same place. And it amazes me how many people are in this place.
Today had grr potential. But it never happened. I kept myself fairly positive. A lot of different things went wrong, but I opted not to stress. I also found out that I was selected to work on a committee in the state bar association. I need to decide this week and I want to do it. I think. It's hard for me to commit to this. At one level I want to because I am supposed to want to be good at my job and at some point I should advance. Shouldn't I? My ambivalence has less to do with the work than with the commitment to being a lawyer. I need to commit to being a lawyer, but I don't want to. Wasn't I supposed to be living this wonderfully creative life? Shouldn't my life has some meaning? Isn't there more to my life than being a lawyer? And why is it all so exclusive? And why does it stress me out to refer to myself as one? And why did it really weird me out when another attorney said "we speak the same language?"
These are all questions I need to figure out answers to. At some point. And I guess I'm getting there. I've been reading a lot of books on living a creative life outside the daily grind. I figure at some point I'll have it all figured out. It will just take me a while.
And then there was the best random happenstance of my week. I was in Target picking up a prescription to deal with my allergies. I decided to walk out a different way thinking I would look at the cameras. As I did that, I ran into my parents' oldest friends. I had not seen them in a while. I think since my mom's funeral. But, it was good to see them. It felt soooo nice to talk to them. And if I had just walked outside after picking up my prescriptions and not thought about the camera - I wouldn't have run into them. And I feel much better for having run into them.
Sometimes it pays to just take a different way out. Sometimes it worth taking on a role you are not entirely comfortable with just to see what it gets you.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
laughter for dreary wednesday
This was on over a week ago. And I'm still giggling. I love How I Met Your Mother. I also really loved this week's episode - especially the bit about the charts. But this opening scene last week about the three day rule. Priceless.
Sunday, May 03, 2009
Confessions of a soccer fan
I had my first exposure to the Women's Professional Soccer League last night. WPS started just this year and if I know anything at all about women's soccer it's because my friend Jacqueline has done a good job in her teaching. I am pre-disposed to like the sport. I love soccer. I love watching it. It's the only sport I've ever actively followed. I can't play to save my life. But randomly kicking a ball around or taking shots on goal - that's always a good time. And I could watch soccer games all day if I had to.
I don't know when it started. It may have even begun as an attempt to bond with my dad. And it's worked for the most part. My dad and I have some of our most animated and engaged conversations over a cup of coffee and the soccer standings on Sunday mornings. I sometimes joke that it's the only time we don't argue. Except for those times we disagree. Like when I insist on my undying affection for certain teams.
If my love of soccer began as a father-daughter bonding exercise it persisted because it has a left a huge mark. Maybe it's the heritage. I was brought up in a pretty traditional Italian American family. It's what we do. I remember the 1986 World Cup final held in Mexico. There was some party at my house ... maybe my brother's high school graduation party. But the part that sticks in my mind was the little green black and white tv was carried outside plugged into the outlet outside so all the men could watch the game. I don't remember much else (I was only 9 at the time) but I remember that TV being carried out there. If my memory isn't messing with me, it was carried to a location underneath the gooseberry tree. Would this have happened for a baseball game? No. Football? Hell no. (We'll ignore the fact that the Superbowl is in the winter..)
Another memory involves my parents and I being at a family picnic at High Meadows. They rent out the camp to family and corporate gatherings. I can't remember if this was a family gathering or a corporate one. I do remember lots of family being there (which really means nothing since most of my extended family works/worked at Wiremold.) It was 1994. The World Cup was held in the United States and the final was between Italy and Brazil. Someone arranged a television to be set up in the pavilion and a group of us gathered to watch the match. It was a nail biter. It came down to penalty kicks and Italy ultimately lost. It was awful. And in that moment I became a die hard non-Brazil fan. I decided that I could never ever support Brazil and would never be a fan of their soccer team. Bebeto and Romario were not names I cared to discuss. I remember sitting there in my bathing suit, face paint from earlier in the day screaming at the television when Roberto Baggio and his golden foot missed that last penalty kick. To make matters worse we shared that viewing experience with a large group of Brazilians. It was awful. And solidified my undying love for the sport. There was a bond that day that just made it one of the more memorable experiences in my life. I was only 16, but I remember that day clearly.
And the list continues. The sport has been such a part of my life for so long I can't imagine not being a soccer fan.
There are a lot of other reasons for this girl to be a soccer fan. The game is exciting. Yes, a 0-0 match can be one of the most thrilling things to watch. The fans are fantastic. There are a drums. And, well the athletes are extremely fit. And by fit, I mean ocassionally super hot.
or
or
I purposely did not post shirtless pictures. Because well, that's not the point. But the hotness coupled with the fitness makes it all highly entertaining for me. Especially when you throw in the hope that they'll exchange shirts at the end of a match.
Add in the fun had in watching a game in a group environment. This could be a bar. Or at a camp pavilion. Or in someone's backyard. Or at the actual match. There's something about soccer fans that I haven't been able to find anywhere else. It's fun. The atmosphere is what makes it worthwhile. Even the obnoxious fans are fun. I remember watching Portugal v. England in the 2006 World Cup in a local Irish Pub. I was one of the few rooting for Portugal and I was asked to go sit in the corner with the "other" Portugal fan. Rude? No. Hilarious? Hell yes.
But the fans and the environment bring me to why I started writing this post. Last night at the Breakers v. Sol match in the WPS, the environment was just what I love. Even at a women's soccer game, there were drummers, fans in face paint, flags, and awesome yelling. There was a huge contingent of Brazilian soccer fans rooting for Marta. As one of the young fans next to me proclaimed to her brother "Marta is like probably the greatest soccer player, like, ever." And I loved watching the young fans. I don't know if my young sports career would have been different with more visible women female athletes, but seeing these little girls so excited to see their heroes play was worth the price of admission. The 90+ minutes of great soccer was just an added bonus. And it was great soccer. I might even say it was better than any MLS match I'd been to. Is that a knock on MLS? No. I think it's just that the closest MLS team for me is the New England Revolution. And they play in Foxboro. And it's just too big to feel the sort of community I felt last night. The vastness of Gillette Stadium makes it hard to really become part of the experience.
I hope this league sticks around. For the great image these women provide for little girls. For the great community professional soccer teams can provide. And selfishly, because the Boston Breakers are a much more accessible soccer team for me to go see. I wouldn't be opposed to making a trip there more often. For $15, why not? Plus they have sangria.
I don't know when it started. It may have even begun as an attempt to bond with my dad. And it's worked for the most part. My dad and I have some of our most animated and engaged conversations over a cup of coffee and the soccer standings on Sunday mornings. I sometimes joke that it's the only time we don't argue. Except for those times we disagree. Like when I insist on my undying affection for certain teams.
If my love of soccer began as a father-daughter bonding exercise it persisted because it has a left a huge mark. Maybe it's the heritage. I was brought up in a pretty traditional Italian American family. It's what we do. I remember the 1986 World Cup final held in Mexico. There was some party at my house ... maybe my brother's high school graduation party. But the part that sticks in my mind was the little green black and white tv was carried outside plugged into the outlet outside so all the men could watch the game. I don't remember much else (I was only 9 at the time) but I remember that TV being carried out there. If my memory isn't messing with me, it was carried to a location underneath the gooseberry tree. Would this have happened for a baseball game? No. Football? Hell no. (We'll ignore the fact that the Superbowl is in the winter..)
Another memory involves my parents and I being at a family picnic at High Meadows. They rent out the camp to family and corporate gatherings. I can't remember if this was a family gathering or a corporate one. I do remember lots of family being there (which really means nothing since most of my extended family works/worked at Wiremold.) It was 1994. The World Cup was held in the United States and the final was between Italy and Brazil. Someone arranged a television to be set up in the pavilion and a group of us gathered to watch the match. It was a nail biter. It came down to penalty kicks and Italy ultimately lost. It was awful. And in that moment I became a die hard non-Brazil fan. I decided that I could never ever support Brazil and would never be a fan of their soccer team. Bebeto and Romario were not names I cared to discuss. I remember sitting there in my bathing suit, face paint from earlier in the day screaming at the television when Roberto Baggio and his golden foot missed that last penalty kick. To make matters worse we shared that viewing experience with a large group of Brazilians. It was awful. And solidified my undying love for the sport. There was a bond that day that just made it one of the more memorable experiences in my life. I was only 16, but I remember that day clearly.
And the list continues. The sport has been such a part of my life for so long I can't imagine not being a soccer fan.
There are a lot of other reasons for this girl to be a soccer fan. The game is exciting. Yes, a 0-0 match can be one of the most thrilling things to watch. The fans are fantastic. There are a drums. And, well the athletes are extremely fit. And by fit, I mean ocassionally super hot.
or
or
I purposely did not post shirtless pictures. Because well, that's not the point. But the hotness coupled with the fitness makes it all highly entertaining for me. Especially when you throw in the hope that they'll exchange shirts at the end of a match.
Add in the fun had in watching a game in a group environment. This could be a bar. Or at a camp pavilion. Or in someone's backyard. Or at the actual match. There's something about soccer fans that I haven't been able to find anywhere else. It's fun. The atmosphere is what makes it worthwhile. Even the obnoxious fans are fun. I remember watching Portugal v. England in the 2006 World Cup in a local Irish Pub. I was one of the few rooting for Portugal and I was asked to go sit in the corner with the "other" Portugal fan. Rude? No. Hilarious? Hell yes.
But the fans and the environment bring me to why I started writing this post. Last night at the Breakers v. Sol match in the WPS, the environment was just what I love. Even at a women's soccer game, there were drummers, fans in face paint, flags, and awesome yelling. There was a huge contingent of Brazilian soccer fans rooting for Marta. As one of the young fans next to me proclaimed to her brother "Marta is like probably the greatest soccer player, like, ever." And I loved watching the young fans. I don't know if my young sports career would have been different with more visible women female athletes, but seeing these little girls so excited to see their heroes play was worth the price of admission. The 90+ minutes of great soccer was just an added bonus. And it was great soccer. I might even say it was better than any MLS match I'd been to. Is that a knock on MLS? No. I think it's just that the closest MLS team for me is the New England Revolution. And they play in Foxboro. And it's just too big to feel the sort of community I felt last night. The vastness of Gillette Stadium makes it hard to really become part of the experience.
I hope this league sticks around. For the great image these women provide for little girls. For the great community professional soccer teams can provide. And selfishly, because the Boston Breakers are a much more accessible soccer team for me to go see. I wouldn't be opposed to making a trip there more often. For $15, why not? Plus they have sangria.
motivation
If you find my writing motivation - let me know. It's been hiding out lately. My latest theory is that it has taken off and is touring the universe with a towel and traveling companion named Trillian.
On the other side of that proverbial coin, I find myself unusually productive in household endeavors. There's something about spring that makes me want to clean and re-do everything. This year I had a bit of a bump in that. My dad wanted a new room and I needed to re-organize the house.
The big stuff is all done. I have the furniture moved. The books re-located (ALL OF THEM). And for the most part everything is liveable.
There are things I need to address. Such as making the office/den/me space look like me. I need to decorate. Which I enjoy and hate at the same time. How you decorate says so much about you. Just as what you wear on a particular day indicates your mood. What do I do on the blank canvass of my walls? I'm not crazy about the color, but did not have the time nor desire to go through painting or picking a color at this moment. So, how do I cover the color up?
The big stuff I was motivated to do. This part - the decorating. The making it look pretty - not so much. My decorating motivation has joined my writing motivation and hopefully when they return, they will have great stories to tell and design inspiration to share.
I need to take my motivation as it comes. I am clearing out the closets in the empty rooms. I am turning one of the empty rooms into a guest room. A place people can visit and sleep while visiting that is welcoming, fun and adorable. There's a kid theme - because right now most of my guests are 12 and under (my nieces and nephew) with an appreciation for polka dots, Harry Potter, and elephants. The other one I want to be a crafty fun room that can double as a spare bedroom when the need arises. I'd like to set up my sewing machine, store all my yarn and fabric, knitting and sewing books and be functional.
The plans I have. Now I just need to put it all into action.
Of course, I am today exhausted. And I want to just spend the day sitting on my couch and reading a book.
But I will make myself do one productive thing before that luxuriousness.
On the other side of that proverbial coin, I find myself unusually productive in household endeavors. There's something about spring that makes me want to clean and re-do everything. This year I had a bit of a bump in that. My dad wanted a new room and I needed to re-organize the house.
The big stuff is all done. I have the furniture moved. The books re-located (ALL OF THEM). And for the most part everything is liveable.
There are things I need to address. Such as making the office/den/me space look like me. I need to decorate. Which I enjoy and hate at the same time. How you decorate says so much about you. Just as what you wear on a particular day indicates your mood. What do I do on the blank canvass of my walls? I'm not crazy about the color, but did not have the time nor desire to go through painting or picking a color at this moment. So, how do I cover the color up?
The big stuff I was motivated to do. This part - the decorating. The making it look pretty - not so much. My decorating motivation has joined my writing motivation and hopefully when they return, they will have great stories to tell and design inspiration to share.
I need to take my motivation as it comes. I am clearing out the closets in the empty rooms. I am turning one of the empty rooms into a guest room. A place people can visit and sleep while visiting that is welcoming, fun and adorable. There's a kid theme - because right now most of my guests are 12 and under (my nieces and nephew) with an appreciation for polka dots, Harry Potter, and elephants. The other one I want to be a crafty fun room that can double as a spare bedroom when the need arises. I'd like to set up my sewing machine, store all my yarn and fabric, knitting and sewing books and be functional.
The plans I have. Now I just need to put it all into action.
Of course, I am today exhausted. And I want to just spend the day sitting on my couch and reading a book.
But I will make myself do one productive thing before that luxuriousness.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Sooo exhausted....
When I was diagnosed with celiac disease, I had all these hopes with the diagnosis.
There was this answer to all of the strange health issues I seem to have. The fact that I felt old all the time. Or that I could not ever get over being exhausted. Or the fact that I space out quite easily. Things that should not otherwise be happening to a normal and healthy 30 (now 31) year old. I was downright hopeful. It would be hard, sure, but it was an answer.
But I'm feeling like crap. All the damn time. And it's beginning to make me angry. I mean, wasn't giving up gluten supposed to make me not feel gross? Why hasn't my neverending joint pain gone away? Why am I still not feeling all that great?
After talking about this the other day, a very kind friend tried to give me an easy out saying that I have had a crappy time the past few months and it's probably just wearing on me. But that doesn't feel right. Maybe it's just allergies. Maybe I am just nursing my grief and depression in a very physical form. Maybe I will "snap out of it" when that magical year comes to an end. But why does it feel an awful lot like it felt before I was diagnosed with celiac disease?
When I was told celiac, I was relieved. In my life, medical problems didn't have "easy" answers. And celiac had such a simple answer. It would be hard to live gluten free, but it also had a solution. I want a new solution. I'm taking suggestions. Anything really? I know that the smart thing to do is to go see someone and try to figure it out. But, I also feel a little bit crazy. Like I'm just whining about general things. Nothing really specific.
Anyway, I just had another piece of an awesome gluten free lasagna my dad made last week. I was going to make it, but he was bored. It was pretty darn tasty. And would have been tastier had I actually heated it up properly.
There was this answer to all of the strange health issues I seem to have. The fact that I felt old all the time. Or that I could not ever get over being exhausted. Or the fact that I space out quite easily. Things that should not otherwise be happening to a normal and healthy 30 (now 31) year old. I was downright hopeful. It would be hard, sure, but it was an answer.
But I'm feeling like crap. All the damn time. And it's beginning to make me angry. I mean, wasn't giving up gluten supposed to make me not feel gross? Why hasn't my neverending joint pain gone away? Why am I still not feeling all that great?
After talking about this the other day, a very kind friend tried to give me an easy out saying that I have had a crappy time the past few months and it's probably just wearing on me. But that doesn't feel right. Maybe it's just allergies. Maybe I am just nursing my grief and depression in a very physical form. Maybe I will "snap out of it" when that magical year comes to an end. But why does it feel an awful lot like it felt before I was diagnosed with celiac disease?
When I was told celiac, I was relieved. In my life, medical problems didn't have "easy" answers. And celiac had such a simple answer. It would be hard to live gluten free, but it also had a solution. I want a new solution. I'm taking suggestions. Anything really? I know that the smart thing to do is to go see someone and try to figure it out. But, I also feel a little bit crazy. Like I'm just whining about general things. Nothing really specific.
Anyway, I just had another piece of an awesome gluten free lasagna my dad made last week. I was going to make it, but he was bored. It was pretty darn tasty. And would have been tastier had I actually heated it up properly.
Monday, April 20, 2009
and so it is
I'm in a tizzy. I get easily frustrated and feel the need for massive change to happen somewhere in my life.
As is often the case in these moments, I chopped off my hair. I'm a good five to six inches lighter and love it. It still has the feel of longer hair, but none of the annoying and irksome weight.
But that was last week. What can I change this week?
I'm trying to convince myself that I am a morning person and I am hoping to get up everyday at 6:15 to go for a run (or walk, depnding). I'm even hoping to gradually work in the occassional writing session. That is one change.
I need to re-arrange all the furniture in my house this weekend. My dad has changed his mind about his sleeping arrangements and I've figured out how to make it all happen. So that's this weekend's change. I'll be sleeping in a new bedroom.
There are a couple other areas I need to work on changing. Such as work. And my outlook.
I've been really negative lately. I'm hoping the morning routine might help there. I'm hoping that by starting off positive, I can carry that threw my day. I really want to run again. There's something so satisfying about your feet pounding on pavement to work out aggression and all those otehr emotions. And the physical benefits are awesome as well.
That's kind of where I am right now. I'm not loving where I'm at. But it's not the worst place.
Fortunately there's chocolate to make it all just a little bit better.
As is often the case in these moments, I chopped off my hair. I'm a good five to six inches lighter and love it. It still has the feel of longer hair, but none of the annoying and irksome weight.
But that was last week. What can I change this week?
I'm trying to convince myself that I am a morning person and I am hoping to get up everyday at 6:15 to go for a run (or walk, depnding). I'm even hoping to gradually work in the occassional writing session. That is one change.
I need to re-arrange all the furniture in my house this weekend. My dad has changed his mind about his sleeping arrangements and I've figured out how to make it all happen. So that's this weekend's change. I'll be sleeping in a new bedroom.
There are a couple other areas I need to work on changing. Such as work. And my outlook.
I've been really negative lately. I'm hoping the morning routine might help there. I'm hoping that by starting off positive, I can carry that threw my day. I really want to run again. There's something so satisfying about your feet pounding on pavement to work out aggression and all those otehr emotions. And the physical benefits are awesome as well.
That's kind of where I am right now. I'm not loving where I'm at. But it's not the worst place.
Fortunately there's chocolate to make it all just a little bit better.
Thursday, April 09, 2009
The only way to end a crappy day ...
No not a nice long run. Or a bottle of wine. Or a nice comforting bath. Or a favorite meal.
But by going to see To Kill A Mockingbird and running into Team Paul.
First things first - today sucked. I had my annual gyn appointment. I am not a good patient. I get nervous easily. And tense up. These are things that do not make a gyn appointment go smoothly. So it was horrible. I will spare the details But I hated it. And it sort of soured the day.
Secondly, work is in a weird phase. It's something I don't really want to get into too much here because I can't. But I'm starting to worry about the future. My future. Which is making me do A LOT of thinking. About my future. About what I'm doing. About what I want to do. About why it is I am doing what I am doing. And that's not fun.
Thirdly, To Kill A Mockingbird was awesome. Matthew Modine was incredible as Atticus and I remembered how much I absolutely loved that book as a kid and as a teen. I read it every few years. I'd love to say that because of that book I became a lawyer. It's not. But it did inspire me to work on my own writing as a kid. And I was obsessed with Jem and Scout. I thought Jem was a super awesome big brother. And my guitar is named Scout.
And Lastly, sitting two rows down and about three seats to the left was Team Paul and his partner. I spent the show hiding my face behind my program. Jess was completely entertained. But, I was terrified of what I might say or do. In my chick flick version of life I would run into him or spill a drink on myself or spill a drink on him or hit on his partner or say something really embarrassing out loud. In real life, I waited until after the show and walked out to the aisle and smiled. Said hello. Met his partner. Introduced Jess. And walked out. Oh and also in real life he is behind me in the parking garage where Jess and I laughed out loud about the coincidence of meeting into him there. And I jumped up and down about something.
Yeah. Somehow despite the mortification this was the best way to end this horrible day.
But by going to see To Kill A Mockingbird and running into Team Paul.
First things first - today sucked. I had my annual gyn appointment. I am not a good patient. I get nervous easily. And tense up. These are things that do not make a gyn appointment go smoothly. So it was horrible. I will spare the details But I hated it. And it sort of soured the day.
Secondly, work is in a weird phase. It's something I don't really want to get into too much here because I can't. But I'm starting to worry about the future. My future. Which is making me do A LOT of thinking. About my future. About what I'm doing. About what I want to do. About why it is I am doing what I am doing. And that's not fun.
Thirdly, To Kill A Mockingbird was awesome. Matthew Modine was incredible as Atticus and I remembered how much I absolutely loved that book as a kid and as a teen. I read it every few years. I'd love to say that because of that book I became a lawyer. It's not. But it did inspire me to work on my own writing as a kid. And I was obsessed with Jem and Scout. I thought Jem was a super awesome big brother. And my guitar is named Scout.
And Lastly, sitting two rows down and about three seats to the left was Team Paul and his partner. I spent the show hiding my face behind my program. Jess was completely entertained. But, I was terrified of what I might say or do. In my chick flick version of life I would run into him or spill a drink on myself or spill a drink on him or hit on his partner or say something really embarrassing out loud. In real life, I waited until after the show and walked out to the aisle and smiled. Said hello. Met his partner. Introduced Jess. And walked out. Oh and also in real life he is behind me in the parking garage where Jess and I laughed out loud about the coincidence of meeting into him there. And I jumped up and down about something.
Yeah. Somehow despite the mortification this was the best way to end this horrible day.
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
i am awesome at the texting
I have been horrible at keeping this site updated. I had all these lofty ambitions when I transitioned to this site - but clearly they have not been fulfilled.
In my defense, I was insane at work. To the point where I would come home and just collapse on my couch to allow my brain time to melt. Then my home was invaded. And then I went away. And then I came back and my home was still invaded. And now I'm just tired and trying to smartly combat a sinus infection by not staying up too late. Clearly that is not working since it's 11:30 and I'm writing this here blog.
But I felt the need to explain my absence. To all of you. The one or two readers of this journal.
Highlights of my recent life include being part of a successful conversational exchange with Team Paul and realizing that I text way too much. I foolishly did not sign up for unlimited texting back when I got my iPhone. It was only five dollars more, but I resisted. And I paid for it. A lot. So now I have unlimited text messaging. And well, the minute details of my life will continue to be communicated via text. Examples of my texting prowess:
From last Weds night (watching US v. Trinidad and Tobago)
JP: Jozy is starting!!!!!!!
me: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!
JP: Boca hot.
me: On my way home to ogle my future bf.
JP: My man back in goal
me: mmmmmm
me: So you know I won't be able to watch Lost tonight?
JP: Oh no :(
me: Yep. How soon is it up online?
me: Clint cut his hair.
JP. After west coast airing at least. I don't know if it waits for Alaska and Aawaii.
JP: I texted that update to you last week about clint :)
me: My niece says Tim Howard is very angry. Pretty Boca. Maybe I'll watch before going to bed.
me: Can we key Alexi's car?
JP: I'll see what we can do
me: Awesome. Boca hot!
JP: That US soccer commercial is catchy. Tell ur niece that Timmy is the hotness.
me: She says he's an angry dude.
JP: Sometimes angry dudes are hot. We should be us soccer groupies.
me: Ok.
JP: I just somehow switched to fsc which had North Korea-South Korea opening the second half. blew. my. mind.
me: Boca...
me: Explain to me my infatuation with Dempsey.
JP: the rap song.
me: Don't tread on me. Also for a moment I had Donovan awe.
JP: Landy is a good passer.
me: he needs to not be used as a striker.
JP: Right. his cross to Jozy was great. Problem is outside of Jozy no good strikers. Ching not good. I think Landy is in mid tonight.
me: They really want Ching to be the heir to McBride. But he's not there. Where's Adu?
JP: not sure.
me: Curious
JP: Looooooooove Jozy.
me: Yes. I hope he moves to a good team where he can get regular playing time. This is a good Lando game.
JP: I'd like to go to a World Cup qualifier.
me: It's a fun time.
me: Dempsey is not having a good game.
JP: JP Dellacamera's fav line is "Running like the game just started." It's one of my top quotes on Facebook he used so much during women's World Cup.
me: Torres is tiny!
JP: Donovan! Jozy!
me: Bradley!!!!!!!!!!
JP: Not sure he was onside :) but Bradley! Voldemort must be so proud.
me: Shhhhh. I'm also a big Sasha fan.
JP: I don't know who Sasha is....
me: He came on for Clint. Boca... Why are they not trading shirts????
JP: They are being cruel.
From Sunday Morning (while watching Tomb Raider)
me: In case I don't say it enough Daniel Craig=hot
Jess: Good to know. Hows the movie?
me: Meh.
Jess: That was my fear and thus why it remains low on my list.
me: I need to go to the mall at some point. But instead I've been untangling yarn.
Jess: Well, the yarn won't untangle itself.
From Monday morning (while working mind you)
me: Door is shut. I'm in a windowless box.
Jess: But sometimes that is necessary. Just don't light a candle.
me: No candles anywhere.
Jess: I feel like there should be a Rent reference here somewhere.
me: I know the feeling. Would you please NOT light my candle?
Jess: That was my last match??
me: What you do to my candle?
Jess: Thank God for the moon.
me: I think Spike Lee's filming down the street.
Jess: Cold hands.
me: Wanna dance
Jess: With me??
me: No with my father.
Jess: I'm Roger.
me: They call me mimi.
Jess: And then she steals the stash from his pocket.
me: And scene!
Why I ever thought I wouldn't need unlimited texting is beyond me?
In my defense, I was insane at work. To the point where I would come home and just collapse on my couch to allow my brain time to melt. Then my home was invaded. And then I went away. And then I came back and my home was still invaded. And now I'm just tired and trying to smartly combat a sinus infection by not staying up too late. Clearly that is not working since it's 11:30 and I'm writing this here blog.
But I felt the need to explain my absence. To all of you. The one or two readers of this journal.
Highlights of my recent life include being part of a successful conversational exchange with Team Paul and realizing that I text way too much. I foolishly did not sign up for unlimited texting back when I got my iPhone. It was only five dollars more, but I resisted. And I paid for it. A lot. So now I have unlimited text messaging. And well, the minute details of my life will continue to be communicated via text. Examples of my texting prowess:
From last Weds night (watching US v. Trinidad and Tobago)
JP: Jozy is starting!!!!!!!
me: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!
JP: Boca hot.
me: On my way home to ogle my future bf.
JP: My man back in goal
me: mmmmmm
me: So you know I won't be able to watch Lost tonight?
JP: Oh no :(
me: Yep. How soon is it up online?
me: Clint cut his hair.
JP. After west coast airing at least. I don't know if it waits for Alaska and Aawaii.
JP: I texted that update to you last week about clint :)
me: My niece says Tim Howard is very angry. Pretty Boca. Maybe I'll watch before going to bed.
me: Can we key Alexi's car?
JP: I'll see what we can do
me: Awesome. Boca hot!
JP: That US soccer commercial is catchy. Tell ur niece that Timmy is the hotness.
me: She says he's an angry dude.
JP: Sometimes angry dudes are hot. We should be us soccer groupies.
me: Ok.
JP: I just somehow switched to fsc which had North Korea-South Korea opening the second half. blew. my. mind.
me: Boca...
me: Explain to me my infatuation with Dempsey.
JP: the rap song.
me: Don't tread on me. Also for a moment I had Donovan awe.
JP: Landy is a good passer.
me: he needs to not be used as a striker.
JP: Right. his cross to Jozy was great. Problem is outside of Jozy no good strikers. Ching not good. I think Landy is in mid tonight.
me: They really want Ching to be the heir to McBride. But he's not there. Where's Adu?
JP: not sure.
me: Curious
JP: Looooooooove Jozy.
me: Yes. I hope he moves to a good team where he can get regular playing time. This is a good Lando game.
JP: I'd like to go to a World Cup qualifier.
me: It's a fun time.
me: Dempsey is not having a good game.
JP: JP Dellacamera's fav line is "Running like the game just started." It's one of my top quotes on Facebook he used so much during women's World Cup.
me: Torres is tiny!
JP: Donovan! Jozy!
me: Bradley!!!!!!!!!!
JP: Not sure he was onside :) but Bradley! Voldemort must be so proud.
me: Shhhhh. I'm also a big Sasha fan.
JP: I don't know who Sasha is....
me: He came on for Clint. Boca... Why are they not trading shirts????
JP: They are being cruel.
From Sunday Morning (while watching Tomb Raider)
me: In case I don't say it enough Daniel Craig=hot
Jess: Good to know. Hows the movie?
me: Meh.
Jess: That was my fear and thus why it remains low on my list.
me: I need to go to the mall at some point. But instead I've been untangling yarn.
Jess: Well, the yarn won't untangle itself.
From Monday morning (while working mind you)
me: Door is shut. I'm in a windowless box.
Jess: But sometimes that is necessary. Just don't light a candle.
me: No candles anywhere.
Jess: I feel like there should be a Rent reference here somewhere.
me: I know the feeling. Would you please NOT light my candle?
Jess: That was my last match??
me: What you do to my candle?
Jess: Thank God for the moon.
me: I think Spike Lee's filming down the street.
Jess: Cold hands.
me: Wanna dance
Jess: With me??
me: No with my father.
Jess: I'm Roger.
me: They call me mimi.
Jess: And then she steals the stash from his pocket.
me: And scene!
Why I ever thought I wouldn't need unlimited texting is beyond me?
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Old words
This is something I wrote a while back. About a week before my mom died, in fact. I always toyed with putting it out somewhere. I never knew where or why, but I think it's a good fit here. It is in fact, all about the crazy random happenstances that roll around in my brain. Which, honestly sometimes scare the crap out of me. But more than the crazy randomness of my thinking, it's also frighteningly accurate to how I feel right now. My brain is still rolling around with a lot of these thoughts. I could update it now, but I don't want to distort the words. This was my life then. My life now might follow in a couple days.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
I hugged my childhood crush this week. We even shared a quick kiss. It happened at his father’s wake. And it was probably inappropriate to get a thrill over this at that time, but I did.
I’ve had a crush on Anthony since I was ten. Or since I was old enough to realize what crushes were. He never really saw me as more than just that lil’ girl across the street that obnoxiously jumped in the pile of leaves he just spent all morning raking. I’m assuming that of course. I never actually asked him what he thought of me as a ten year old.
He is the same as my brothers. I am sure I was nothing more than an annoying little sister like person to him. He too has a story about being my babysitter once. I remember looking for pictures of Anthony in my brother’s high school yearbook and not my brother. I was sad when he moved away for college. I was jealous that he married.
I had my first real conversation with him on August 23, 1992. Earlier that Sunday morning, my mother had collapsed while making coffee and was rushed to the hospital. I had been driven home from the hospital and Anthony was in his drive way. He walked over to ask me what happened.
I remember, even then, being amazed at how calm I was. I didn’t giggle. I didn’t find myself twirling my hair. I didn’t step from foot to foot. And I definitely did not stammer. I clearly told him my mother was in a coma and no one knew what was wrong. He said, “Wow.” I remember writing about that day in my diary that night and that I included that conversation. It marked in many ways a loss of innocence and a loss of childhood. Carrying on an adult conversation with an adult male that I had a crush on was a big moment for my fourteen year old brain. But this is just my overly analytical brain overly thinking getting carried away looking back at the one moment in my life.
This week, standing in that funeral home saying goodbye to his father I thought about my past feelings. The feelings stayed in the fore of my thoughts as I approached the family line and offered my condolences. As I stood across from Anthony, we hugged. The hug lingered a bit. But maybe that was all in my head.
My father frustratingly moved away from the line much too quick and called me over to introduce me to an old friend. Anthony said goodbye. And I walked away upset at not sharing a longer conversation with this man who grew more attractive every year and looked amazing in a suit. But, again, not an appropriate place or time for these thoughts. Especially as his wife and child came to stand by him.
I sat in my chair on the other side of the room pondering my life. This entire week had been a fascinating study in how my brain functions. I’d spent the week ogling the new boss of my boss. And by ogling, I mean, complete and utter adoration of the man as a public speaker that I could not stop referring to as my candidate for hope and change.
If you can’t control thinking about that childhood crush at inappropriate times, you can’t really control developing a crush on a super suave political operative that happens to fall on the other side of the political spectrum? After hearing him speak a week ago, I have wanted to make up Team Paul t-shirts and wear one proudly. I told my boss I was ready to quit my job as an attorney and be his personal assistant. I would be sure to get his coffee order correct.
And now when I have to talk to him, I get a case of the giggles. Or the stammering. Or the hair twirling. Or the complete incoherence. I become my ten year old self talking to Anthony across the street.
I snap out of this strange circle of thought when my dad begins telling our other neighbor about his bypass. I correct him. Angioplasty. Not a bypass.
It’s almost as if he’d rather it be the more serious condition. He gets glory in talking about it. When I diminish it and say it was nothing more than an angioplasty, his face falls. I’m not quite sure what that is about. It’s almost like he wants it to be a bigger deal. It’s not like an angioplasty is not a big deal. But, bypass sounds way more important and impressive to him. Or he just can’t remember the word “angioplasty.” Whichever it is, I feel the need to correct him because I don’t want our neighbors reporting to other neighbors that my dad had a quadruple bypass and is in dire straits and might die tomorrow. When, in reality, he had an angioplasty with a stent put in to address an artery that was 90% blocked. He was in the hospital for 30 hours. And four of those were spent waiting for the nurse to complete the discharge papers.
Serious? Yes. Grave? No. But maybe grave isn’t the word to use while at a funeral.
I get choked up at funerals. It happens. I know why. I can pin point the exact reasons why I start fighting the urge to shed tears and fall apart even when I barely know the guy. The psycho analysis for this is not that difficult. The thought in my head is always “we’re next.” But I really shouldn’t dwell on that. So I won’t. But I do take notes. To prepare. Like the music. I wonder what music funeral homes allow you to pick from. Could I get some Dean Martin playing for my mom? I think on Six Feet Under the Fishers let you play whatever music you wanted. But Peter Krause would also greet me at the door.
It’s all too much sometimes. My dad wanting a bigger injury. My mom being sick all the time. Me crushing on a gay Republican who is indirectly my boss and I accidentally called a girl that one time. It’s a lot, you know. And I’m amazed my brain doesn’t explode. But we are a resilient species. Truly. It’s amazing. We’re designed to withstand so much – both physically and internally.
My dad tapped me on the shoulder and I remembered I was still at Luigi’s wake. He motions to leave and my thoughts close down temporarily as I begin my goodbyes. I play with my cellphone as I walk to my car as I chauffer this week while my dad recovers from his non-bypass procedure.
I’m sure the bizarre train of thoughts that has marked this week of emotional ups and downs and possibly hormonal rages will spark back up later this night. Perhaps I’ll plan my future as a gluten free baker extraordinaire. Perhaps Team Paul can help that dream happen. Maybe I just need to get him some of my gluten free chocolate chip hazelnut cookies. Maybe I need to focus on my rock star dreams and work on that strumming pattern I stubbornly refused to practice in my lesson this week. I think Anthony played guitar once up on a time. Maybe Team Paul plays as well. Could you imagine?
But this goes back to early October 2008. I had just fallen deeper for Team Paul. I had begun the obsession with gluten free baking. And I was beginning to become frighteningly aware of how crazy my thought processes could be. A friend read this back then and called it somewhat prophetic. I don't like such words. I don't know if I quite believe in the idea of "prophetic." It's too mystical for me. I think it's predictable. I also sort of think that when I write without paying attention to form or matter, I tend to write pretty damn good. It's when I overthink the words that I kill it. And no one wants to read dead words. (Um, pun is totally intended.)
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
I hugged my childhood crush this week. We even shared a quick kiss. It happened at his father’s wake. And it was probably inappropriate to get a thrill over this at that time, but I did.
I’ve had a crush on Anthony since I was ten. Or since I was old enough to realize what crushes were. He never really saw me as more than just that lil’ girl across the street that obnoxiously jumped in the pile of leaves he just spent all morning raking. I’m assuming that of course. I never actually asked him what he thought of me as a ten year old.
He is the same as my brothers. I am sure I was nothing more than an annoying little sister like person to him. He too has a story about being my babysitter once. I remember looking for pictures of Anthony in my brother’s high school yearbook and not my brother. I was sad when he moved away for college. I was jealous that he married.
I had my first real conversation with him on August 23, 1992. Earlier that Sunday morning, my mother had collapsed while making coffee and was rushed to the hospital. I had been driven home from the hospital and Anthony was in his drive way. He walked over to ask me what happened.
I remember, even then, being amazed at how calm I was. I didn’t giggle. I didn’t find myself twirling my hair. I didn’t step from foot to foot. And I definitely did not stammer. I clearly told him my mother was in a coma and no one knew what was wrong. He said, “Wow.” I remember writing about that day in my diary that night and that I included that conversation. It marked in many ways a loss of innocence and a loss of childhood. Carrying on an adult conversation with an adult male that I had a crush on was a big moment for my fourteen year old brain. But this is just my overly analytical brain overly thinking getting carried away looking back at the one moment in my life.
This week, standing in that funeral home saying goodbye to his father I thought about my past feelings. The feelings stayed in the fore of my thoughts as I approached the family line and offered my condolences. As I stood across from Anthony, we hugged. The hug lingered a bit. But maybe that was all in my head.
My father frustratingly moved away from the line much too quick and called me over to introduce me to an old friend. Anthony said goodbye. And I walked away upset at not sharing a longer conversation with this man who grew more attractive every year and looked amazing in a suit. But, again, not an appropriate place or time for these thoughts. Especially as his wife and child came to stand by him.
I sat in my chair on the other side of the room pondering my life. This entire week had been a fascinating study in how my brain functions. I’d spent the week ogling the new boss of my boss. And by ogling, I mean, complete and utter adoration of the man as a public speaker that I could not stop referring to as my candidate for hope and change.
If you can’t control thinking about that childhood crush at inappropriate times, you can’t really control developing a crush on a super suave political operative that happens to fall on the other side of the political spectrum? After hearing him speak a week ago, I have wanted to make up Team Paul t-shirts and wear one proudly. I told my boss I was ready to quit my job as an attorney and be his personal assistant. I would be sure to get his coffee order correct.
And now when I have to talk to him, I get a case of the giggles. Or the stammering. Or the hair twirling. Or the complete incoherence. I become my ten year old self talking to Anthony across the street.
I snap out of this strange circle of thought when my dad begins telling our other neighbor about his bypass. I correct him. Angioplasty. Not a bypass.
It’s almost as if he’d rather it be the more serious condition. He gets glory in talking about it. When I diminish it and say it was nothing more than an angioplasty, his face falls. I’m not quite sure what that is about. It’s almost like he wants it to be a bigger deal. It’s not like an angioplasty is not a big deal. But, bypass sounds way more important and impressive to him. Or he just can’t remember the word “angioplasty.” Whichever it is, I feel the need to correct him because I don’t want our neighbors reporting to other neighbors that my dad had a quadruple bypass and is in dire straits and might die tomorrow. When, in reality, he had an angioplasty with a stent put in to address an artery that was 90% blocked. He was in the hospital for 30 hours. And four of those were spent waiting for the nurse to complete the discharge papers.
Serious? Yes. Grave? No. But maybe grave isn’t the word to use while at a funeral.
I get choked up at funerals. It happens. I know why. I can pin point the exact reasons why I start fighting the urge to shed tears and fall apart even when I barely know the guy. The psycho analysis for this is not that difficult. The thought in my head is always “we’re next.” But I really shouldn’t dwell on that. So I won’t. But I do take notes. To prepare. Like the music. I wonder what music funeral homes allow you to pick from. Could I get some Dean Martin playing for my mom? I think on Six Feet Under the Fishers let you play whatever music you wanted. But Peter Krause would also greet me at the door.
It’s all too much sometimes. My dad wanting a bigger injury. My mom being sick all the time. Me crushing on a gay Republican who is indirectly my boss and I accidentally called a girl that one time. It’s a lot, you know. And I’m amazed my brain doesn’t explode. But we are a resilient species. Truly. It’s amazing. We’re designed to withstand so much – both physically and internally.
My dad tapped me on the shoulder and I remembered I was still at Luigi’s wake. He motions to leave and my thoughts close down temporarily as I begin my goodbyes. I play with my cellphone as I walk to my car as I chauffer this week while my dad recovers from his non-bypass procedure.
I’m sure the bizarre train of thoughts that has marked this week of emotional ups and downs and possibly hormonal rages will spark back up later this night. Perhaps I’ll plan my future as a gluten free baker extraordinaire. Perhaps Team Paul can help that dream happen. Maybe I just need to get him some of my gluten free chocolate chip hazelnut cookies. Maybe I need to focus on my rock star dreams and work on that strumming pattern I stubbornly refused to practice in my lesson this week. I think Anthony played guitar once up on a time. Maybe Team Paul plays as well. Could you imagine?
Sunday, March 08, 2009
Happy Daylight Savings
I was a little stunned when I woke up this morning. I forgot it was Sunday and then I forgot it was Daylight Savings. When I realized what it was, I got really excited. I had to buy a new alarm clock a few years ago and it automatically updates for Daylight Savings. And that's awesome in my opinion. And yes, it takes very little to impress me at times.
Not impressive of late, is Napoli. The soccer team. Not the city. I have no opinion on the city in fact as I have yet to visit. It's on my list. My hope is to make it there next summer.
But back to the soccer team. S.S.C. Napoli. I have been a fan since I can remember. Sure, I've had mild flirtations with other teams. There were those days as a kid when I was obsessed with the Toto Schilacci era Juventus. And even a few years back I developed an obsession with Fiorentina and the beautiful Luca Toni. But Napoli has always been my team. Why? Well, my dad is and therefore I am.
I won't bore the few readers of this blog with the recent history of the team. But I will say that it appears Napoli has decided winning is not the thing to do in 2009. A team that was ranked a surprising 4th after the first half of the 2008/2009 season has not won a game in this new year. And the year, not that new anymore. They play well, sure. But, they're not winning. A game is on right now in the background. And it's a few minutes from the half and they are still tied. Ties are good. It's better than losing due to a last minute goal by the other team on a stupid mistake.
It angers me. Win a game! Just one. Because I'm convinced that's all you need. I really think that when you remember how wonderful it feels to win, you will be thrilled by the experience and do it more often. One game. It would make me so happy. And don't you want me to be happy? (I know guilt is a cheap tactic, but they're an Italian team. I was brought up to think guilt was the Italian way.)
Okay, that's out of my system.
I feel better.
As for other matters, I realize I am not as regular a writer as I once hoped I would be. I'm in what one could refer to as a "funk" lately. I feel the need to do something drastic in order to move myself out of it.
Drastic for me is probably not that drastic for others. But I've been thinking a lot about my hair. I sort of want to go to a hair salon and say - "Change it. Make it different. I want to be look different." I've been really happy with my long hair. But, I feel a need for a change in some aspect of my life. And hair is so easy. I'd like a more fit body, but that can't be accomplished over the course of one sunday afternoon. New hair can be. And then it grows back over the course of time and it's okay.
I woke up with that feeling today. It's ridiculous to say that one haircut can be responsible for the unfunking, but I think it can be a step. Or something. I don't know. I used to do this all the time. Wake up and decide it was time to chop my hair off. And do it. I've gotten less gutsy with my hair over time, but maybe it's just the simple step I need for right now.
I'm not overly concerned with the funk being anything major. I've decided I'm allowed to be in a funk for the next year. I'm entitled. But the funk is starting to interfere with work. I spent too many hours this week reading articles about Napoli's inability to win games this year, Will Chase's extensive theater career and blog posts about anything. None of those things have anything to do with work. And that's a problem. I have no problem with the occasional wasted day, but the frequency of them this week are a problem. I've just been tired and out of it and without any desire for anything.
And I think a simple hair cut may make me feel lighter and different. Add a new perspective to my day.
But for now I need to see what my boys can do in Naples.
Sunday, March 01, 2009
one of those
Last week was one of those weeks at work. Everything that could go wrong went wrong and everything that could be insane was insane.
Sadly, due to the confidential nature of many of the case facing us, I can't write in much detail. Even by coming up with clever nicknames like "confused daddy" or "the inept one" I still can't write much. I like my job and in this current climate, I sort of need it.
But, I can say that sometimes just when I think humanity is at it's lowest, I am amazed by a human's capacity to love unconditionally. Yes, that is unnecessarily obtuse. But after a week where I saw or read some of the worst in people. And questioned the decisions of people, it ended on possibly the happiest note possible.
A family completed the adoption process of four children. They are not Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. They did not adopt their children from exotic lands. This was a couple that was still putting their biological children through college.
This was a couple like my parents. Like most of my friend's parents. A family that realized they had more love to give. And could not say no to the adoption of all four children. The kids range in age from first graders to not yet pre-schoolers. The kids are beautiful and happy. Most importantly, these children are loved.
It's amazing to me that despite reading more and more about how horrible things are and the feeling that the world is slowly falling apart, this family opens up their heart and home. There's a lesson here. It doesn't matter how rough your life is. It doesn't matter how downright shitty it is - you can always do more to help others.
I spend my Wednesday nights tutoring adults with Greater Hartford Literacy Volunteers. And I bitch every Wednesday about how I don't want to go. I want to stay home and drink wine and prepare for Lost. I want to go out to dinner and talk about what might be happening on Lost that night. I want to go to a Lost party and watch Lost. (I have a wee obsession with the tv show.) (oh and last week's episode had a moment that made me think of Rent and that was a great collision of sorts.)
But I go. And it feels like I go out of an obligation. Yet, I love it. Even if we do no writing or reading and just spend our night talking about a news article discussing the first ever integrated prom at a Mississippi high school. It's a great hour and a half.
I guess what I'm trying to babble about here is the idea that we can always do more. And I know I can do more. I am not particularly good about going to Church, but one thing my very Catholic upbringing taught me is the idea that there is always someone else to help. The idea that there is always more I can do.
I feel more of a responsibility to live this out as I become an aunt to older children. I think it's important to set an example. When I talk to my now 12 year old niece about our responsibility to help people who need our help. When I try to persuade my 10 year old nephew that he should give away one of his most prized toys.
They are starting to get it. They are starting to become little conscientious people and it's fantastic.
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