Synchronicity

I am leaving on a jet plane early Saturday morning and I will be back again Monday night.
“But G”, you sob, “Why are you leaving us and whatever shall we do without your light to guide us through the darkness of not only the weekend, but also the dreaded Monday?!”
Yeah, sucks for you, huh? You’ll get over it. Flynn will fart a sandwich, post it on YouTube, and you’ll all forget about dear old G. Whatever.
(I’m not quite sure what this mood is today. I am crazy excited about my trip and pissed that I actually have to be at work today at the same time. The two feelings have mated to produce this new joypiss I am experiencing right now. Please bear with me.)
Wondering what is happening in Beantown? Oh so many things, grasshopper. On Saturday I will be traveling to Peabody and Plymouth to spend quality time with the Yankee G family, including the famed Cousin G and her progeny and husband. I will be eating linguica pizza and lobster hoagies. I will be teased about my accent. I will be annoyed by aunts, amused my cousins and snuggled by babies. Damn, life is good. Oh, and then on Sunday it’s back to Boston because I think I’m doing something cool that night…
Wait? What was that? Can’t remember… Oh, riiiight…

I AM GOING TO THE POLICE CONCERT AT FENWAY PARK!!!

Listen closely people; if you are not a fan keep it to your self- ok? I don’t want to have to hurt anyone.
I was just a wee lass when they broke up and I thought my dream was dead, I would never be able to see them in concert, sniffle, sniffle… And now thanks to the help of Big Sister G and Papa G I and my gold circle ticket will be rocking Fenway on Sunday night. I have no words. There are NO words…aahhh…
So I’ll see you when I get back, babies, and I will try to miss you but I honestly don’t see it happening!

Oh also- I have now listened to the Black Vatican podcast twice and I am preparing a BV Podcast Review for you upon. Be afraid, be very afraid… just kidding, you said I was hot; you have nothing to worry about…

Harry vs. Jesus

“ I wouldn’t waste my time reading Harry Potter.”
“I’ve read synopsis of what it’s about and I know why it was written and I’m not interested.”

First of all I didn’t ask you to read the book. Someone mentioned that I had read it. No one is trying to force you into reading anything. I am however, getting pretty damn sick and tired of the so called Christians trying to turn the entire Harry Potter series into some morally questionable read.

Of course we shouldn’t want our children, and anyone else for that matter, reading about such subversive topics as the power of love to conquer hate. We don’t want our children to learn about the power of redemption or sacrifice. We especially don’t want them to place any value on the family or the idea that friends stick together and stand up for each other. We should hide them from the notions of the powerful protecting the weak, respect for all regardless of their appearance or economic status. We should keep our children away from this horrible series that uses fantasy to teach lessons like “It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.” Harry Potter is a dangerous character because he was willing to lay down his life to protect the people he loves and to fight an evil that threatened them. We need to steer our children away from any literature that speaks of love, humility, service, fortitude, respect and courage.

Nothing in any of the books suggests that magic is a replacement for ANY religion. It is a talent and a skill learned in a, say it with me now people, FICTIONAL world. Somehow I was smart enough to read Cinderella and A Child’s Bible at the same time and not mix up The Holy Ghost and The Fairy Godmother. I think kids today can tell the difference between Harry and Jesus.

My question is this: How much faith can you actually claim to have if you’re scared of a children’s book?

All was well.

I couldn’t stop. From the moment I settled in, propped up against my pillows with the good reading light on, I was gone. When I finally finished at around 2 am I couldn’t sleep. My mind keep replaying the last scenes of the novel and remembering bits of details from past novels and wondering if I would ever have enough money to buy JK Rowling’s notebooks. Probably not.
In the great debate over whether books will survive in the future rapidly streaming at us through more and more devices of every kind I must admit that I believe in books. I believe in the magic of diving not just into someone else’s story, but also into their internal world. I believe in the romance of the printed word on good paper; in the crack of a spine and in dog eared pages. No matter what anyone says about the series or its author I give Ms. Rowling credit for introducing these pleasures to millions of new readers.
Last night for a little over seven hours I spent some time with old friends and enemies. I laughed a lot, cursed a couple times, cried more than you really need to know, and cheers more than a few times. I also threw the book across the room twice out of sheer frustration…and grief. I loved every minute of it.

Tangled up in Blue

I don’t want anyone’s pity or need anyone’s help. I’m fine. (That may not be entirely true- if you are a psycho-pharmacologist we should probably talk.) Most of what is bothering me springs from a childish and spiteful prank that ended up being taken too seriously. This resulted in the opposite of what I requested from the Universe last Monday. I guess you have to get your requests in pretty early… or have some really good Karma stashed away in some primo Tupperware. Does Karma get stale? Could it be that this dull aching in my chest which beats in syncopated rhythm with the ones behind my eyes are not unshed tears, fear or pain but actually some type of Karmic heartburn?
Should the fact that I had nothing to do with the dumbass prank have any bearing on my case? Since I wasn’t involved why am I the one with syncopated aches? Good question. Universe, would you like to take that one?

Tell Me What We're Gonna' Do Now...

My weekend was terrible. I don't feel like talking about it yet.
I have not read Harry Potter yet so if you have spoilers on your blog I'll be staying away.
I love you guys but I got nothin' today.

Me

I don’t particularly feel like quitting smoking. It does not bother me that I am slowly killing myself. There are so many places to go from that statement and I will skirt all of them.
My place is a mess. This doesn’t bother me either. I clean when I feel like it. I don’t usually feel like it.
All I will say about my car is that it isn’t Pookie’s fault that I don’t wash her. Poor baby…
I would rather get hurt than do the hurting. Yet when I do get hurt I tend to lash out. I have scars that will never heal; they will forever be barely closed and tender. I know this and I protect myself as best I can, I have also learned to live with the pain.
I doubt that I have ever forgiven myself. For anything. This sometimes makes it difficult to face the people who have forgiven me, because I just don’t understand the how of it. I can forgive others and move on fairly easily.
I have rarely, if ever, felt truly happy with myself. There have been beautiful moments in my life, but I usually feel undeserving in some way.
I don’t look in reality anything like the way I look in my mind. It’s strange. Sometimes mirrors startle me.
It is entirely possible that I am completely loony. I have been told by someone I loved that I was certifiable and should be locked up. He was saying it as he dumped me, but it has lived in the back of my mind ever since, feeding on the rampant insecurities that also live there.
I am definitely more sensitive than I should be and I overanalyze everything. Each word and gesture is catalogued so that my imagination can run wild with abandonment scenarios. This is all on the inside.
On the outside I am a smartass and somewhat of a goof. I am a chameleon in a way that I think only children of mixed parentage can be. I can talk to anyone about pretty much anything. You could take me to the Ritz, a barbeque or a vegan buffet and I will make a friend.
I’d give you the shirt off my back if you needed it (not the Harry Potter or John Legend shirts, but any others).
I make a big deal over birthdays. A BIG DEAL. Someone should be truly glad that you exist on this planet and tell you that and I love being that person.
I love dogs and babies and turn into complete mush around them. There isn’t much that you couldn’t get me to do for a dog or a kid.
I support the causes I believe in with my money and my time. I don’t have a lot of either, so I am pretty picky and very dedicated.
I have a big mouth and an almost non existent filter between it and my brain…this has gotten me in trouble many, MANY times…
Most of the things that I wish for make me cry.
I am a super fan. If you could get paid for being a fan I would be richer than Bill Gates and JK Rowling combined. There is a depth and breadth to my fandom that boggles lesser beings.
When I love you, I love all the things about you. The shadow and the light. When you are my friend you have a friend for life.
There are all these Memes floating around out there and they bug me a little. How honest are we really? How honest are we about the horrible thing and the great things about ourselves? I’m not asking anyone else to share but I have been thinking a lot about faith lately and I decided to take a leap. This is not all of me, but it is a pretty big chunk of the things that people don’t usually get to know.

Hell???

I got an article in an email from Uncle G that made me think. He’s good at doing that, even when I don’t want to. I’ve been debating in my head whether or not to post the entire thing here, or just the link to it. I’ve decided to just put up the link. (I have some weird paranoia this morning about ABC suing me for copyright something) I think it’s a pretty interesting piece and I’d love to hear what you all think about it so please take a look and let me know.

http://abcnews.go.com/2020/Story?id=3362554&page=1

Single Mother Fatigue

There was nothing, technically wrong with my weekend. In fact, from the outside looking in it was pretty great. I went out with Joe on Friday night. I had to work Saturday morning, but I survived it. Saturday night I spent with some theatre friends; eating, drinking and laughing our a**es off at tapes of each other’s high school shows. Yes my friends and I are all dorks. Sunday morning I was on hangover duty since I was the only one not in pain. I made breakfast and dispensed coffee, Advil and hugs where necessary. It’s what I do. I’m the mom.
So I guess it’s no wonder that my dream weekend is one in which someone is taking care of me. Not waiting on me hand and foot, that would be a little weird (plus I might get used to it and then I’d be completely screwed come Monday morning). I just want to not have to think or to make any decisions. I would love to just be able to float through the weekend like a child while someone else handles the details.
This will not happen any time soon. And I know it won’t happen unless I ask for it, which I won’t. I never ask for the things I really want. It’s one of the things about me that I don’t like. The good news is that I am not one of those completely irrational people who get angry when I don’t get what I never asked for in the first place. I get annoyed with myself for not asking, once again…
Here’s the thing though- if you have to ask for the thing, it’s just not the same. When I’m down and I have to ask a friend to hang out and cheer me up it never works as well as when they notice that I’m down and suggest it themselves, you know?
People tell me how strong I am and how self sufficient I seem. They come to me for advice and they count on me to take care of them. This is great. I love taking care of people- I have a maternal streak ten yards wide, but I’m starting to feel like a single mom here.
Meet Joe Black was on tv when I got home from work on Saturday and I watched it before I went out. There’s a line in that movie I love, “What’s wrong with taking care of a woman? She takes care of you.” So even though I may not be able to ask for it out loud in the real world from friends and family and Joe I will say here in blogland that my wish for the upcoming week is this: snuggles and beach time, friends and laughs and not waking up before nine, coffee and bloody marys and people giving me hugs. There it is universe. Please.

This is why I love Meno

http://menosblog.blogspot.com/2007/07/not-where-i-thought-this-was-going-but.html

Where Everybody Knows Your Name...

I gave Mama G the blogspot address. I have no idea if this is a good thing or a bad thing. I am, however, in a cold sweat while I ponder the possibilities.
Now you all know that Mama G is pretty damn fabulous so it isn't the fact that she might be reading the things I tell her on the phone anyway, it's that I have broken the 4th wall of my life. One of the many reasons I left my beloved Chucktown and am so reluctant to return for anything more than a visit is the sense of claustrophobia that comes from living in a town full of family, people who know your family, people who work for , used to work for or used to date someone in your family. You cannot just be G. You are, at all times, everything that everyone has ever heard about you and your entire family. You are sister of, cousin of, daughter of, used to date...
Here in VA I am just G. I'm liking it. I like taking the time to define who that is for myself. I adore the fact that here I have the time to take. In blogland it's even better. I feel more and more free to say the things in my head that I would never say out loud. I can get out my idiocy and my dreams in equal measure and face no judgement. Jokes about Harry Potter's wang, but no judgement.
So why did I give Mama G access to this? Maybe it's because I have never been good at separating her from anything in my life. Maybe it's because I'm proud of what I'm doing here. Maybe it's because I really love blogging and want to share that with her. Maybe some tiny part of me misses having someone see me in the context I ran so hard from. Anything's possible.
Whatever the reason, I did it. So, Welcome Mama G!

You like me, You really like me!

Forgive me my Sally Field moment. And my happy dance. Honestly, I have lusted after one of these hot pink buttons for longer than I care to admit, but to get it from HSBP adds some wicked black frosting to the cake. I would give it right back to him and start a fun little game, but I have a feeling it might only be fun for me and nauseating to everyone else.
So here goes:

Susan at Random Moments. I read Susan every day. I pout when I check her blog and there isn’t a new post up yet. She is straightforward and honest, funny and sweet. I would hang out with her any day. She reminds me of myself, but not in ways that should truly scare her. A great writer and a Rockin’ Girl Blogger!

V at TwentySomethingBlonde. Aside from being one of my best friends in ‘real’ life her blogs are getting better and better every day (well, not for the past couple days since she’s been in CA on vaca, but you know what I mean). Thanks for following me into the dark.

Flynn at Flynn Unedited. Just because I want to have blog-o-sex with his hair… and him…a threesome with two people.

Mayren and Mist1 are also on my MUST read list, as is Meno, but they’ve already gotten tagged and I feel like I should pass this along. I still love you guys though!

Me and My Temper Tantrum

Have you ever had a craving for, let’s say pizza, but the only food around was Chinese? So you eat the Chinese food, but no matter how much you eat, you still want the pizza? This is what it has been like living in my head. When I am really tired, or sick, I make up these comforting scenarios of what I will do when I get off of work to make myself feel better. It helps me through the day. The danger here is when you start to involve other people in those little daydreams.
Yesterday in my head I was at Joe’s house on the couch with him and Cuervo watching a movie and falling asleep. As I clawed my way through the day in my self inflicted (yet quite whiny) hell I kept picturing myself snuggled up with my boys and it made me feel better. So much better.
After work I had a meeting at the Children’s Hospital, where I volunteer and then I ended up in a conversation about maybe helping out at Planned Parenthood as well (because yeah- I have SO much free time…). By the time I turned my phone back on to call Joe it was almost 7:30 and I wanted that couch so bad I could cry. I had about six voicemails, the last of which was Joe saying that he was going out with M and K and probably wouldn’t be back until late. If he didn’t get to talk to me that day he would definitely call me on Thursday.
EXCUSE ME?!?!? I wasn’t asking for much. All I wanted was for him to read my mind and know that I wanted to be the center of his universe for a few hours that night, change his plans around to accommodate me and then comfort me in my self imposed sleep deprivation. Instead, he makes plans to go out after work with friends and have FUN! This is bullshit. This is ridiculous. I cannot believe he even had the balls to call me and tell me that.

I drove home, got into bed and watched ‘So You Think You Can Dance’ while eating Chocolate Chocolate Chip ice cream (and drinking a glass of wine) and fell asleep. Normally that would have been a home run of a summer night… instead it was Chinese food…


Ps. If you did not get the sarcasm in the penultimate paragraph, if you really think I am ‘that girl’ please do me a favor and do not ever read this blog again. Go away. Idiot.

Harry Potter Review

If this doesn’t make any damn sense that is because the coffee hasn’t kicked in yet. I doubt anything less than a gallon is going to touch the depth of tired in which I find my self. G, you ask, was it worth it? Oh peon, silly, silly peon. HELL YES IT WAS WORTH IT!
First of all, let me say that you cannot put over 700 pages of book on the screen. It is not possible and I know this. I am an adult. Sometimes. I went into the theatre figuring that certain things would get skipped over and trying to prepare myself for the letdown. I wasn’t let down. Plot points were made, quickly, but they were made. I had a little snit about the Occlumency lessons and they cut the last scene in Dumbledore’s office, but I’m over it now. OK- I am not over the Dumbledore scene. I wanted to see the filmy strands of memory come swirling out of his head. I wanted to see the entire prophecy. I would have been fine with a three hour movie. But it was not to be. Sniffle. Sigh.
Here is my real problem. Somewhere along the way Emma Watson unlearned how to act. She was stiff (not Hermione stiff, just stiff) and stilted and seemed to be ‘acting’ the entire time. It threw me off. The chemistry was all whacked out and this is the book where the chemistry is supposed to really start taking off. It could have been the directing. I would like to think that it was the directing since I’ve always really liked Emma, but I guess you’ll have to judge for yourselves. Watch out for the laugh. When you see it, you’ll know.
That being said, this movie was still worth the crazy pain that is my day on three hours of sleep. I went with friends (not quite) as obsessed as I am and one friend who had never seen any of the movies or read the books. We all walked out having had a great time. I’m going again. So should you. Join the Order of the Phoenix, you won’t regret it.

Ps. Let me just say that Ginny rocks, has always rocked and I am SO glad we’re finally getting to see her show off on the big screen!

Pps. It was a sick amount of fun to hate Dolores (Cheney)Umbridge with a room full of other people.

HOME!!!

My soldier is home. I just got a voicemail from the pay phones in JFK. That was the sweetest sound of my life, his voice coming from those crappy pay phones with all the craziness in the background. Home. Safe. It’s all I needed and so much more than others got and are getting. I won’t be able to see him for a couple of weeks, which does kind of suck, but I’ve waited this long…
This day could not possibly get any better!

Equus it's not...

I will be seeing Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix tonight at midnight. I will be wearing my Gryffindor t shirt. I will be exhausted tomorrow, but it will be entirely worth it. That is all you need to know about me today.

*** I got so excited last night when we got the tickets that I jumped up and down on my bed (which is pretty springy) and hit my head on the ceiling. Don’t tell anyone though.

All the way out there...

I did something yesterday which was either the most brave and smart thing or the most idiotic thing I have ever done. Only time will tell. I was completely honest with someone about my feelings (I don't do that...sarcasm I do, vulnerability not so much). So please cross your fingers for me guys that I don't get stomped on again. A girl can only get up off the mat so many times before the floor starts looking pretty comfy. Anyone else ever make a best/worst decision? Help me out. Share.

Take that b*tches!!!

I was going to write about how much I love you all and how I got started blogging. I was going to do a little paragraph on each of my favorite bloggers and why I read them every day. I was halfway through when I was presented with something that blew each and every one of you out of the water.
I HAVE A BLUE ICE POP AND YOU DON’T!!!

NA NA NA NA!!!

MWA HA HA HA (evil laugh)!!!

Not that I don’t love you guys. You inspire me and make me laugh, you make me think and you listen to me and all that shit. Let’s face it though- not one of you has ever turned my tongue OR my lips blue and you do not taste like artificial goodness.
OK- some of you might taste like artificial goodness but I doubt that I’ll ever find out.
In the meantime I will be savoring the blue ice pop, king of all ice pops…mmm…

Menage A 'Fraidy Dog

Cuervo is scared of fireworks. Normally this would not be blogworthy, but Cuervo is over a hundred pounds of dog. He can, and has knocked me down. His tail can leave a mark on your leg when he wags it. This is a big a** dog. He’s not just a little scared of fireworks, he is seriously terrified. Obviously, last night was not a good night for him.
Joe and I took him over to a friend’s house that was having a cookout. There was beer, food and hippies. We were having fun. Night fell. This is when the show began. It seemed like everyone on the street was setting something off. We were also close enough to the water that we could hear the ‘official’ show going on down there. Chunks of firework ash were falling on us (this has become a theme in our relationship. Some couples have a song, Joe and I have firework ash). Cuervo was running around in circles, trying to hide under people’s legs or crawl into Joe’s lap. He also had on the saddest face a chocolate lab/pit can have.
Have I mentioned before how much of a sucker I am for this dog? I spent a nice chunk of my night letting him into the house when a fresh burst started and he went running for the door and out again when he had calmed down a little. It was auditory Chinese water torture for the poor thing, almost two hours of it.
When we finally got back to Joe’s place he was still shaking and whining. Both of us were lying in the dark listening to him and it was tearing me up. I couldn’t help thinking that he’d feel better up on the bed with us, but Joe already thought I was only dating him for his dog. Then I thought, maybe Joe could go sleep on the couch… I was saved from these unfaithful imaginings by a voice in the darkness, “You know, he’d probably cut that out if he was up here with us.” He tries to be a hard a**, but he is marshmallow fluff inside when it come to that dog.
I slept with two men last night. It was great.