I've been having a hard time falling asleep lately. Some people think it is the result of the caffeine I run through my body like it's the only form of liquid known to man. I know it's because my body is revolting against the times. These times. These times where I find myself in a dance that I follow mindlessly. Wake up, walk to work, coffee, work, eat, go home, open laptop, struggle, drink or don't drink due to the struggle, sleep.
It's been awhile since I've exercised more than the walks to work and the constant movement that my job generally brings. It is toil but it is not the type of exercise one does out of respect for their body. It is a wiriness built out of survivalism instead of a temple built out of discipline and love.
It's been awhile since I've eaten healthily. I have taken to preferring easiness and availability over nourishment. I am surprised it hasn't caught up with me yet, at least that I know of.
It's been awhile since I've danced. Since I've felt the cramping in my hands, placing threads through needles eyes and craft store diamonds on corsets. Moving my hips in unison with drum beats, letting lyrics allude to what's next.
It's been awhile since I've been on here.
I know the aforementioned is why I can't sleep. The stagnancy of what truly makes me thrive while the things I just "get through" dominate.
At least I've managed this. Perhaps this will buy me a few hours.
Showing posts with label my weird brain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label my weird brain. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
I am currently...
waking up from an hour and a half long nap. I'm shaking the discombobulation that comes with overdosing your body with sleep when you've been so used to not doing so.
I feel weird and yet grateful.
Colleen made me dinner last night and we drank red wine and watched American Psycho.
I drove home on the freeway in the rain and nobody was around. I rolled down the windows and let our monsoon air wrap itself around my face, cool and humid in equal measure; tires running over the wet asphalt, windshield wipers soothing in their consistency.
I felt weird and yet grateful.
I am currently being as languorous as the weather outside of my window.
And I am listening to this-
And I feel weird and grateful.
This has been one of the best couple days off in awhile. Blogworthy? Maybe not. But sometimes the little things need their due attention. This has been one of those times.
I feel weird and yet grateful.
Colleen made me dinner last night and we drank red wine and watched American Psycho.
I drove home on the freeway in the rain and nobody was around. I rolled down the windows and let our monsoon air wrap itself around my face, cool and humid in equal measure; tires running over the wet asphalt, windshield wipers soothing in their consistency.
I felt weird and yet grateful.
I am currently being as languorous as the weather outside of my window.
And I am listening to this-
And I feel weird and grateful.
This has been one of the best couple days off in awhile. Blogworthy? Maybe not. But sometimes the little things need their due attention. This has been one of those times.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Working Titles In My Memoir (if I were to actually write a memoir and...yeah, THIS WAS ALL I HAD GUYS!)
Chapter One- "Anybody Have A Light?"
Chapter Two- "It's Not Really Just A Dry Heat"
Chapter Three- "'He Said He'd Like You More If You Weren't Such A Spaz'"
Chapter Four- "How To Be An Honor Student And Feign Interest"
Chapter Five- "Middle School..."
Chapter Six- "That One Time I Spent Four Years Hating Life" -or- "High School..."
Chapter Seven- "So Tell Me How You Feel..."
Chapter Eight- "How To Stay A Virgin"
Chapter Nine- "So I'm Not A Virgin Anymore, Now What?"
Chapter Ten- "Sex, Drugs and Price Is Right Re-runs"
Chapter Eleven- "Divorce! Fun For The Whole Family!"
Chapter Twelve- "So Do We Hug Or Something?" -or- "How To Meet Your Future Spouse On Myspace"
Chapter Thirteen- "Living In Sin For Dummies"
Chapter Fourteen- "My Pee Can Predict The Future" (this would be when I found out I was pregnant with Jack)
Chapter Fifteen- "Yes, SIX hotdogs"
Chapter Sixteen- "The World Weighs 9lbs 5oz and is 21.5 Inches Long"
Chapter Seventeen- "His So-Called Wife"
Chapter Eighteen- "Twenty-one Going On Thirty-two"
Chapter Nineteen- "In Which I Would Sell My Soul For Eight Hours Of Sleep"
Chapter Twenty- "Figuring It Out...Kinda"
What would your chapters be?
Chapter Two- "It's Not Really Just A Dry Heat"
Chapter Three- "'He Said He'd Like You More If You Weren't Such A Spaz'"
Chapter Four- "How To Be An Honor Student And Feign Interest"
Chapter Five- "Middle School..."
Chapter Six- "That One Time I Spent Four Years Hating Life" -or- "High School..."
Chapter Seven- "So Tell Me How You Feel..."
Chapter Eight- "How To Stay A Virgin"
Chapter Nine- "So I'm Not A Virgin Anymore, Now What?"
Chapter Ten- "Sex, Drugs and Price Is Right Re-runs"
Chapter Eleven- "Divorce! Fun For The Whole Family!"
Chapter Twelve- "So Do We Hug Or Something?" -or- "How To Meet Your Future Spouse On Myspace"
Chapter Thirteen- "Living In Sin For Dummies"
Chapter Fourteen- "My Pee Can Predict The Future" (this would be when I found out I was pregnant with Jack)
Chapter Fifteen- "Yes, SIX hotdogs"
Chapter Sixteen- "The World Weighs 9lbs 5oz and is 21.5 Inches Long"
Chapter Seventeen- "His So-Called Wife"
Chapter Eighteen- "Twenty-one Going On Thirty-two"
Chapter Nineteen- "In Which I Would Sell My Soul For Eight Hours Of Sleep"
Chapter Twenty- "Figuring It Out...Kinda"
What would your chapters be?
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
The Doors and Me
Through years of casual observation, I’ve noticed that friends of mine either completely love or flat-out loathe The Doors. Doors front man Jim Morrison tends to be described as either “deity” or “buffoon,” depending on the person's mouth these words are falling out of, though not exclusively from each camp. I happen to like them, The Doors. Him. Jim.
It was probably my junior year in high school when I, for a lack of a better word, opened myself up to The Doors. The boys I crushed on usually talked about them in the midst of deep discussions of classic rock album catalogs, and since they rarely failed me in recommending music, I went to the local Target and picked up the two-disc Legacy compilation, a perfect Doors starter kit.
I went home and drew a bath, as was my usual nightly ritual, and put on Disc One in my bathroom-appointed CD player. The Doors’ first single, “Break On Through (To the Other Side),” off their self-titled debut album, poured from those tiny speakers, reverberating across the bathroom tiles.
You know the day destroys the night
Night divides the day
Tried to run
Tried to hide
Break on through to the other side
By the time "The End" came on, my bathwater had turned cold. I laid there mesmerized, unaware of my pruning violet fingertips or my pending homework. Unaware of the day, now almost over; of my little brothers or my parents; I was now looking well beyond those boys who recommended the music to me in the first place. I was a slate wiped clean, and one thing filled it back up- sexuality.
I know it's a cliché to wax on about how Jim Morrison was sex poured into leather pants, bellowing on about Native American Shaman and lizards, but it was the mix of dark and light that pulled me in. He was Dark and Mysterious, yes, but underneath it was a man dying for something sacred, as was I.
My makeshift bathroom séance was not the first time I’d heard of The Doors. Through my parents I had cultivated a love of classic rock in my early years. My dad would fill the house with Led Zeppelin or Pink Floyd and, sometimes, even Neil Diamond. I remember my mother getting a wild hair up her ass one night and hijacking me from my room because she HAD to go pick up a copy of an Ozzy Osbourne album she realized she’d lost years ago. And so we drove home singing, riding the metaphorical "Crazy Train," and feeling, well, like a couple of wild and crazy broads. They had their jams, but The Doors were my thing. My parent's weren't that big on ‘em—they knew songs, but never bought any of their stuff. Meanwhile, my girlfriends mostly rejected The Doors right off the bat in favor of Dashboard Confessional (another post entirely) and music in the same vein. Again, that ‘60s L.A. foursome remained my thing.
The Doors’ music relaxes me in a way I struggle to put into words. It pulls out my inhibitions and replaces them with reckless abandon. I slip into a different skin entirely. Suddenly I’m a dog with my head sticking out of the car window. I’m jumping into the deep end with both feet, on a moonlight drive. And yes, I am ready and willing, onto the next Whiskey bar.
About a year ago, while celebrating a friend’s birthday, enough cocktails drove the conversation from giddy laughter into talk of strippers and strip clubs. I’d never been to one. "You know what we SHOULD do...."
As we walked into our designated gentleman’s club, the lighting instantly threw me off. Despite the half-naked entertainers working the club, I felt even more uncomfortable within my own clothed skin. I knew what the majority of the patrons were there for, but my intentions were more in the spirit of fun and games, like a reverse-bachelorette party. I felt a little weird knowing that by being there I was wasting these girls' time, as they were earning a living and I was merely taking up precious real estate, sipping my Midori Sours. I felt uptight and weird. Then my friend decided she was going to buy me a dance.
"Nooooo. No way. No. No. Nah uh. No."
"Yes. Just one. You have to. This is probably your first and only time here. I've had one before. They're fun!"
"No. Maybe. One more drink… And if I see a girl I like/respect/can talk to. Maaaaybe."
I texted Greg in various stages of my intoxication and regaled him with stories of who I saw and what could happen."
"Do it!"
"You're just saying that because you're a guy."
"Well, don't do it if you're uncomfortable. But you ARE at a strip club. Trust your instincts."
"Fine.”
I sat back down and waited for The Right Moment, noting the paying customers around me so I’d know what to do with my body language. Watching the dancers to see where mentally they were at. Normally I’d be much too emotionally sensitive to be in a strip club, but there I was. The hours passed; my Lap Dance Window closing. I would go down as a prudish square, on this the day of my friend’s birthday. And then....
A song.
And a girl. A lithe, blue-eyed blonde with all the tenacity in the world. A twenty was exchanged and I got my first and last lap dance. I tried to focus on just the song, and despite the fact that I was totally out of my element, at some point, it WAS fun. I felt like girl, a woman, in the oddest way. She may not have been Dark and Mysterious, but in a flurry of body glitter, distorted guitars and a faux-Shaman warning of Mister Mojo Rising, I broke on through.
Just the way Jim would've wanted it.
And here's a few of my favorite Doors tunes. Bathtub not required.
It was probably my junior year in high school when I, for a lack of a better word, opened myself up to The Doors. The boys I crushed on usually talked about them in the midst of deep discussions of classic rock album catalogs, and since they rarely failed me in recommending music, I went to the local Target and picked up the two-disc Legacy compilation, a perfect Doors starter kit.
I went home and drew a bath, as was my usual nightly ritual, and put on Disc One in my bathroom-appointed CD player. The Doors’ first single, “Break On Through (To the Other Side),” off their self-titled debut album, poured from those tiny speakers, reverberating across the bathroom tiles.
You know the day destroys the night
Night divides the day
Tried to run
Tried to hide
Break on through to the other side
By the time "The End" came on, my bathwater had turned cold. I laid there mesmerized, unaware of my pruning violet fingertips or my pending homework. Unaware of the day, now almost over; of my little brothers or my parents; I was now looking well beyond those boys who recommended the music to me in the first place. I was a slate wiped clean, and one thing filled it back up- sexuality.
I know it's a cliché to wax on about how Jim Morrison was sex poured into leather pants, bellowing on about Native American Shaman and lizards, but it was the mix of dark and light that pulled me in. He was Dark and Mysterious, yes, but underneath it was a man dying for something sacred, as was I.
My makeshift bathroom séance was not the first time I’d heard of The Doors. Through my parents I had cultivated a love of classic rock in my early years. My dad would fill the house with Led Zeppelin or Pink Floyd and, sometimes, even Neil Diamond. I remember my mother getting a wild hair up her ass one night and hijacking me from my room because she HAD to go pick up a copy of an Ozzy Osbourne album she realized she’d lost years ago. And so we drove home singing, riding the metaphorical "Crazy Train," and feeling, well, like a couple of wild and crazy broads. They had their jams, but The Doors were my thing. My parent's weren't that big on ‘em—they knew songs, but never bought any of their stuff. Meanwhile, my girlfriends mostly rejected The Doors right off the bat in favor of Dashboard Confessional (another post entirely) and music in the same vein. Again, that ‘60s L.A. foursome remained my thing.
The Doors’ music relaxes me in a way I struggle to put into words. It pulls out my inhibitions and replaces them with reckless abandon. I slip into a different skin entirely. Suddenly I’m a dog with my head sticking out of the car window. I’m jumping into the deep end with both feet, on a moonlight drive. And yes, I am ready and willing, onto the next Whiskey bar.
About a year ago, while celebrating a friend’s birthday, enough cocktails drove the conversation from giddy laughter into talk of strippers and strip clubs. I’d never been to one. "You know what we SHOULD do...."
As we walked into our designated gentleman’s club, the lighting instantly threw me off. Despite the half-naked entertainers working the club, I felt even more uncomfortable within my own clothed skin. I knew what the majority of the patrons were there for, but my intentions were more in the spirit of fun and games, like a reverse-bachelorette party. I felt a little weird knowing that by being there I was wasting these girls' time, as they were earning a living and I was merely taking up precious real estate, sipping my Midori Sours. I felt uptight and weird. Then my friend decided she was going to buy me a dance.
"Nooooo. No way. No. No. Nah uh. No."
"Yes. Just one. You have to. This is probably your first and only time here. I've had one before. They're fun!"
"No. Maybe. One more drink… And if I see a girl I like/respect/can talk to. Maaaaybe."
I texted Greg in various stages of my intoxication and regaled him with stories of who I saw and what could happen."
"Do it!"
"You're just saying that because you're a guy."
"Well, don't do it if you're uncomfortable. But you ARE at a strip club. Trust your instincts."
"Fine.”
I sat back down and waited for The Right Moment, noting the paying customers around me so I’d know what to do with my body language. Watching the dancers to see where mentally they were at. Normally I’d be much too emotionally sensitive to be in a strip club, but there I was. The hours passed; my Lap Dance Window closing. I would go down as a prudish square, on this the day of my friend’s birthday. And then....
A song.
And a girl. A lithe, blue-eyed blonde with all the tenacity in the world. A twenty was exchanged and I got my first and last lap dance. I tried to focus on just the song, and despite the fact that I was totally out of my element, at some point, it WAS fun. I felt like girl, a woman, in the oddest way. She may not have been Dark and Mysterious, but in a flurry of body glitter, distorted guitars and a faux-Shaman warning of Mister Mojo Rising, I broke on through.
Just the way Jim would've wanted it.
And here's a few of my favorite Doors tunes. Bathtub not required.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Hello, welcome to Lullabies...
I've noticed that I've had a few new followers in the last couple months and I figured it would be a good time to re-introduce myself to newcomers or guests popping on in for a look. You like what you see my friend?
Here's a bit about myself-
* My name is Amanda. I don't particularly like this name (lifetime taunting from schoolboys saying "A MAN! DUH!" and "Amanda Hug and Kiss" left a bitter taste in my mouth regarding my moniker), but it's all I've ever known.
* I'm twenty-three years old and feel as though that number should be flipped.
* I have a three year old son named Jack. You've likely heard or will read about him here often. He's pretty neat and gives me a lot of material to work with. Plus I love him.
* I'm obsessed with music. Like, in love with it. I know what you're thinking "if you love it so much, why don't you marry it?!" Well, I'm working on it...
* I'm also obsessed with: fashion and clothing, different time periods, beautiful things, burlesque, reading, poetry, drinks (I call myself a "drinkie", like a "foodie" but more liquid-y), movies and pop culture, coincidences, cats that act like dogs and dogs that act like people, making lists, Mexican and Italian food, comedy, rainy weather and the delightful little desert town I call home (I realize that my fondness for rain and said desert town are opposing likes, but that's kind of how I roll).
* Speaking of music, a lot of the time you'll find a song at the end of a post. Ever since I've started listening to music I've been reciting lyrics that go along with whatever I happen to be going through at the time. This eventually translated over to my blogging and I started putting a song to go along with the story. It's "the moral of the story", if you will. I hope you don't mind.
* I *TRY* to be as vegan as I can as of late. At worst I'm a pretty lazy vegetarian. And when I start feeling like Charlie Sheen I occasionally have a Sonoran dog (usually this happens in times of great PMS, or as I like to call it "Shark Week") like the Tucson lifer I am. I'll never ingest tiger's blood though.
* My bad habits- picking my split ends, biting my cuticles, preference for naps over human affection sometimes, crying easily...
* But I make a kick ass chili so that should even things out.
* I've been blogging for about eight years, starting with a now defunct-due-to- impulsive-purging Livejournal (I really wish I could go back and read what my sixteen year old self had to say about the world or that boy in English class...), a stint on Myspace and now Blogger.
* Sometimes you might find yourself saying "what the hell is this girl going on about?" I wonder this a lot too.
Here's a picture of what you've gotten yourself into-
"Hi. My name is Amanda and I like things."
Thank you for reading and love you all.
Here's a bit about myself-
* My name is Amanda. I don't particularly like this name (lifetime taunting from schoolboys saying "A MAN! DUH!" and "Amanda Hug and Kiss" left a bitter taste in my mouth regarding my moniker), but it's all I've ever known.
* I'm twenty-three years old and feel as though that number should be flipped.
* I have a three year old son named Jack. You've likely heard or will read about him here often. He's pretty neat and gives me a lot of material to work with. Plus I love him.
* I'm obsessed with music. Like, in love with it. I know what you're thinking "if you love it so much, why don't you marry it?!" Well, I'm working on it...
* I'm also obsessed with: fashion and clothing, different time periods, beautiful things, burlesque, reading, poetry, drinks (I call myself a "drinkie", like a "foodie" but more liquid-y), movies and pop culture, coincidences, cats that act like dogs and dogs that act like people, making lists, Mexican and Italian food, comedy, rainy weather and the delightful little desert town I call home (I realize that my fondness for rain and said desert town are opposing likes, but that's kind of how I roll).
* Speaking of music, a lot of the time you'll find a song at the end of a post. Ever since I've started listening to music I've been reciting lyrics that go along with whatever I happen to be going through at the time. This eventually translated over to my blogging and I started putting a song to go along with the story. It's "the moral of the story", if you will. I hope you don't mind.
* I *TRY* to be as vegan as I can as of late. At worst I'm a pretty lazy vegetarian. And when I start feeling like Charlie Sheen I occasionally have a Sonoran dog (usually this happens in times of great PMS, or as I like to call it "Shark Week") like the Tucson lifer I am. I'll never ingest tiger's blood though.
* My bad habits- picking my split ends, biting my cuticles, preference for naps over human affection sometimes, crying easily...
* But I make a kick ass chili so that should even things out.
* I've been blogging for about eight years, starting with a now defunct-due-to- impulsive-purging Livejournal (I really wish I could go back and read what my sixteen year old self had to say about the world or that boy in English class...), a stint on Myspace and now Blogger.
* Sometimes you might find yourself saying "what the hell is this girl going on about?" I wonder this a lot too.
Here's a picture of what you've gotten yourself into-
"Hi. My name is Amanda and I like things."
Thank you for reading and love you all.
Friday, March 4, 2011
The Fetus Made Me Do It
It's come to my attention that there are quite a few ladies of the blogosphere who are currently with child. Reading about the food cravings and aversions, the sonograms and moodiness have made me think about my own pregnancy. So! For fun I decided to write down all my pregnancy weirdness.
For starters, I didn't find out I was pregnant until I was almost three months along. I had irregular periods for years (sometimes even going so much as six months without one) so when mine didn't show up I figured "meh, I guess it's all off schedule again." I had just moved in with Greg and we were enjoying the freedoms of co-habitation. Basically, I was drinking rum and cokes every night, staying up late, eating more Chinese food than one really should, smoking, etc. My habits weren't what one would call "admirable". Once I suddenly COULD NOT STAND "eewwwww get the fuck away from me" cigarettes, I knew something was off. I called one of my girlfriends at the time and told her about my weird new aversions and she did what any good friend would do-
"You need to take a pregnancy test you moron."
"Okay. Fine......fuck."
I told Greg what was up and we went to the store to pick up a pregnancy test. It took the test about four of the estimated thirty seconds to tell me the result of my months of carelessness. I was pregnant. SO pregnant in fact that the test practically laughed in my face. I probably could have held the thing under my arm like I was taking my temperature and it would've had the same result. I. was. knocked. UP.
Once we knew we went back to the store and picked up the necessities for a vegetarian pregnancy. Because when I go, I go all the way. Not only was I going to be a mother, I was going to be vegetarian! A healthy, glowing, animal meat-free, baby making vessel. That lasted a good couple months...
Here is how everything else went down:
Month 3-4
Food cravings- HAD to have tomato soup with a gigantic spoonful of cream cheese and pepper in it at least twice a day. Salads with so many toppings on it it negated the fact that it was a salad, Italian orangeblood soda, blueberry smoothies, Eegee's or as I've now taken to calling it- "The Tucson Pregnancy Test" (every girl I've known that's gotten pregnant suddenly NEEDS to have Eegee's at all hours, I was not an exception).
Aversions- Wakefulness. I was hit with fatigue so hard I pretty much lived in our bed from month 2-4.
Weird behaviors- A strong urge to watch Sex and the City re-runs. The ones where Miranda is pregnant. And our roomates dogs suddenly became my best friends, one of them taking on the role of guardian while Greg was at work. He would follow me from room to room and lay at my feet or watch me. When the other, a much too playful and gigantic Great Dane (who was still just a puppy) would try to accost me for mischief, guardian dog would herd her into another room and growl at her. I thought that dog trying to keep me safe was one of the sweetest things I'd ever seen.
Month 4-5
Food cravings- Hot Cheetos. Give the pregnant girl the hot cheetos and nobody gets hurt.
Aversions- None. This was the point where I was getting ready to eat EVERYTHING.
Weird behaviors- Being perma-horny. If you could get pregnant while still being pregnant I'd be Nadya Suleman right now.
Month 5-6
Food cravings- Sonoran hotdogs and sonoran hotdogs exclusively. By now my plans to be a glowing earth mama went out the window and I started my morph into Rosie O'Donnell. Don't know what a sonoran dog is? Check out this clip-
Before Adam Richman, I was at Guero Canelo every other day, elbow deep in about six doggies.
Aversions- Not eating.
Weird behaviors- Crying jags. I would cry a lot.
Month 6-7
See above.
Month 7-8
Food cravings- Coconut curry popcorn shrimp, egg drop soup, lo mein.
Aversions- Getting dressed, being asked "when are you due?"
Weird behaviors- The NEED to smell chemicals. Plastic, gasoline and leather being my main scents. I would sniff the shower liner and steal Greg's wallet and just sit in bed and inhale the leather.
Month 8-9
Food Cravings- Hamburgers, anything horrible for my waistline/health.
Aversions- Everybody.
Weird behaviors- Incessant cleaning...and the biting off of heads if things weren't clean enough! The night before I started going into labor I began scrubbing the carpet while simultaneously yelling at Greg for having his shoes on in the house and smudging (imaginary) dirt around.
What were your crazy pregnancy habits, cravings, loves?
For starters, I didn't find out I was pregnant until I was almost three months along. I had irregular periods for years (sometimes even going so much as six months without one) so when mine didn't show up I figured "meh, I guess it's all off schedule again." I had just moved in with Greg and we were enjoying the freedoms of co-habitation. Basically, I was drinking rum and cokes every night, staying up late, eating more Chinese food than one really should, smoking, etc. My habits weren't what one would call "admirable". Once I suddenly COULD NOT STAND "eewwwww get the fuck away from me" cigarettes, I knew something was off. I called one of my girlfriends at the time and told her about my weird new aversions and she did what any good friend would do-
"You need to take a pregnancy test you moron."
"Okay. Fine......fuck."
I told Greg what was up and we went to the store to pick up a pregnancy test. It took the test about four of the estimated thirty seconds to tell me the result of my months of carelessness. I was pregnant. SO pregnant in fact that the test practically laughed in my face. I probably could have held the thing under my arm like I was taking my temperature and it would've had the same result. I. was. knocked. UP.
Once we knew we went back to the store and picked up the necessities for a vegetarian pregnancy. Because when I go, I go all the way. Not only was I going to be a mother, I was going to be vegetarian! A healthy, glowing, animal meat-free, baby making vessel. That lasted a good couple months...
Here is how everything else went down:
Month 3-4
Food cravings- HAD to have tomato soup with a gigantic spoonful of cream cheese and pepper in it at least twice a day. Salads with so many toppings on it it negated the fact that it was a salad, Italian orangeblood soda, blueberry smoothies, Eegee's or as I've now taken to calling it- "The Tucson Pregnancy Test" (every girl I've known that's gotten pregnant suddenly NEEDS to have Eegee's at all hours, I was not an exception).
Aversions- Wakefulness. I was hit with fatigue so hard I pretty much lived in our bed from month 2-4.
Weird behaviors- A strong urge to watch Sex and the City re-runs. The ones where Miranda is pregnant. And our roomates dogs suddenly became my best friends, one of them taking on the role of guardian while Greg was at work. He would follow me from room to room and lay at my feet or watch me. When the other, a much too playful and gigantic Great Dane (who was still just a puppy) would try to accost me for mischief, guardian dog would herd her into another room and growl at her. I thought that dog trying to keep me safe was one of the sweetest things I'd ever seen.
Month 4-5
Food cravings- Hot Cheetos. Give the pregnant girl the hot cheetos and nobody gets hurt.
Aversions- None. This was the point where I was getting ready to eat EVERYTHING.
Weird behaviors- Being perma-horny. If you could get pregnant while still being pregnant I'd be Nadya Suleman right now.
Month 5-6
Food cravings- Sonoran hotdogs and sonoran hotdogs exclusively. By now my plans to be a glowing earth mama went out the window and I started my morph into Rosie O'Donnell. Don't know what a sonoran dog is? Check out this clip-
Before Adam Richman, I was at Guero Canelo every other day, elbow deep in about six doggies.
Aversions- Not eating.
Weird behaviors- Crying jags. I would cry a lot.
Month 6-7
See above.
Month 7-8
Food cravings- Coconut curry popcorn shrimp, egg drop soup, lo mein.
Aversions- Getting dressed, being asked "when are you due?"
Weird behaviors- The NEED to smell chemicals. Plastic, gasoline and leather being my main scents. I would sniff the shower liner and steal Greg's wallet and just sit in bed and inhale the leather.
Month 8-9
Food Cravings- Hamburgers, anything horrible for my waistline/health.
Aversions- Everybody.
Weird behaviors- Incessant cleaning...and the biting off of heads if things weren't clean enough! The night before I started going into labor I began scrubbing the carpet while simultaneously yelling at Greg for having his shoes on in the house and smudging (imaginary) dirt around.
What were your crazy pregnancy habits, cravings, loves?
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
In the event...
that you're wondering "what is Amanda thinking about at 10:32pm on a Wednesday night"...
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
A Scene From The Movies I Make In My Mind*...
July, hot but not overpowering. They unpack boxes from the moving van still sitting outside, they still have 5 hours left on it so it sits idly in the unpaved driveway. He walks in on her taking pictures out of a box, lining them on the floor, stepping back and thinking, then another, step, think, another, step, think.
Hand on her shoulder, she turns around.
The door closes.
Insert song
*I do this all the time, hear a song that makes my heart kick and instantly think "if I were to make a movie, where would I put this song?" Just figured I'd get it out somewhere.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Waking up from my weekend
This weekend was probably one of the laziest I've experienced in the last 3 years or so. The most exhaustive of activities included grocery shopping, doing dishes and making more coffee. I took about 4 or 5 naps. 4-5 NAPS! If you love sleep as much as I do this is pretty much like getting all the doorbuster sales on Black Friday (which I napped through). Between the napping we ate, watched TV and Greg played video games. It was an exercise in sloth and gluttony and we won the gold. Needless to say this Monday hit me in the head like a cold bass. I think I'm just starting to get some feeling back in my brain and limbs, out of necessity only, and also with the assistance of the heater which hasn't been turned on since last winter and produced that awesome malfunctioning blow dryer smell that I secretly like a little too much (along with gasoline, plastic, leather and sulfur). So, since my brain is still waking up here are some things that tickled my fancy all weekend-
Dear Santa,
I've been a pretty decent girl as of late. I do the dishes and laundry (oh the dishes I do, Santa!) and I've managed to keep our pet human alive and well for another whole year! I know I haven't always been good with the upkeep of say, houseplants or my split ends, but I think those things should be disregarded for the fact that I'm a functioning and occasionally groomed mother. I'll accept any of the following as payment for my good deeds. And in turn I'll leave you cookies and cocktails so pleasant you'll give Rudolph a run for his money in the red nose department. Thank you.
1. This would be perfect for holding my Burt's Bees lip balm and i.d. for those nights out that I smuggle in between momming and writing inane blog posts.
2. This could jazz up my reading corner.
3. I'd be happy to sprain my ankle in these and I could pair these with some skinnies and my Sid Vicious accent!
4. A LBD for me?
5. And a cute rug because I'm starting to turn into a crazy rug lady.
Also!
Some articles- One that made me haha and one that made me say "hells yeah!".
I wonder if these people will let me move in with them?
For people who love music and charity and t-shirts (I'm eyeballing the TV On The Radio edition, for obvious reasons).
But act now and receive-
I've been listening to Devendra Banhart all weekend, almost nonstop. It's safe to say I've become obsessed. He is just all around amazing and makes me feel kinda funny...
*
I mean, how could this not?
So in the case that you haven't been turned on by this genius, here's some of my favorite Banhart jams from my weekend-
Listen all the way through. You'll likely feel like a child with the soul of an 80 year old. That's how you know it's working.
That is all friends. This post is all scattered and wacky enough. As I mentioned earlier, the brain, it is still defrosting. What caught your sights this weekend? Eat anything particularly yummy? Hug anybody particularly tighter? My jeans did that to me. I hope you all had a wonderful weekend and holiday. Here's to the next few weeks of ulcer creating holiday shopping, prepping, familial political debates and weight gain! Woot! December, I'm going to make you mine!
*This is the fourth time I've referenced Wayne's World this weekend. I watched it way too much as a kid.
Dear Santa,
I've been a pretty decent girl as of late. I do the dishes and laundry (oh the dishes I do, Santa!) and I've managed to keep our pet human alive and well for another whole year! I know I haven't always been good with the upkeep of say, houseplants or my split ends, but I think those things should be disregarded for the fact that I'm a functioning and occasionally groomed mother. I'll accept any of the following as payment for my good deeds. And in turn I'll leave you cookies and cocktails so pleasant you'll give Rudolph a run for his money in the red nose department. Thank you.
1. This would be perfect for holding my Burt's Bees lip balm and i.d. for those nights out that I smuggle in between momming and writing inane blog posts.
2. This could jazz up my reading corner.
3. I'd be happy to sprain my ankle in these and I could pair these with some skinnies and my Sid Vicious accent!
4. A LBD for me?
5. And a cute rug because I'm starting to turn into a crazy rug lady.
Also!
Some articles- One that made me haha and one that made me say "hells yeah!".
I wonder if these people will let me move in with them?
For people who love music and charity and t-shirts (I'm eyeballing the TV On The Radio edition, for obvious reasons).
But act now and receive-
I've been listening to Devendra Banhart all weekend, almost nonstop. It's safe to say I've become obsessed. He is just all around amazing and makes me feel kinda funny...
*I mean, how could this not?
So in the case that you haven't been turned on by this genius, here's some of my favorite Banhart jams from my weekend-
Listen all the way through. You'll likely feel like a child with the soul of an 80 year old. That's how you know it's working.
That is all friends. This post is all scattered and wacky enough. As I mentioned earlier, the brain, it is still defrosting. What caught your sights this weekend? Eat anything particularly yummy? Hug anybody particularly tighter? My jeans did that to me. I hope you all had a wonderful weekend and holiday. Here's to the next few weeks of ulcer creating holiday shopping, prepping, familial political debates and weight gain! Woot! December, I'm going to make you mine!
*This is the fourth time I've referenced Wayne's World this weekend. I watched it way too much as a kid.
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