I'd like to follow up a previous post from my emotions with a post purely derived from my hormones. Chelsea (damn girl, you've been pressing the right inspire buttons lately!) posted this video on her Weekly Surf segment and huuuuuuurrrrrr....
I have usually been impassive when it comes to famous "heartthrobs", but if there is one thing I love it's a dapper male. And a dapper male playing the piano- equivalent to Spanish Fly to me. I'd go so far as to call it a fetish, I suppose. It's that potent.
Anyway, I'd never *really* gave Ryan Gosling much thought, after "The Notebook" I sort of dismissed the guy as a romantic yet brooding actor who'd be the subject of many chick flicks to follow. But I was wrong. So wrong....
YAY! I finally found a band to wax nostalgic about (thanks to Chelsea's most recent posts' title)! I was getting pretty antsy trying to come up with a new band to write about, despite the fact that I have hundreds that I love, I want to be selective and save the bigger stories for later though. In case you haven't noticed the theme in these "________ and Me" posts, they are largely based on teenagehood feelings. I have zero musical training, I only know what I like, so these posts aren't really about analyzing instruments or musical construction. It's about the feelings certain bands or even specific songs evoke. Because that's what music is about isn't it? I was also heavily inspired when I started this segment by this. Anyway, without further adieu-
I'm not entirely sure how I came across Death Cab For Cutie. I just sort of picked them up like one smells a persons perfume after they've left the checkout line. I know I bought the album at the shop I would later buy the Shin's albums and I distinctly remember the day. I was coming home from summer school (I'm not that great at math but I know that high school crushes in the same class+an overall dislike of intermediate algebra= summer school), stopping off downtown at the transit center. Instead of transferring to the next bus I decided to browse around downtown instead, despite the 115 degree heat. I didn't know what exactly I was looking for in the record store that day, which is always a good sign. The things you come across when you're never looking for them are usually the best. But after about 20 minutes I walked out with my newest obsession. I locked the c.d. into my walkman (I don't think I had an i-pod until the middle of my senior year) and if there was ever a song that I'd put on a "Who I Am" mix it was the track that greeted me that moment.
So entranced by this new audio gold was I that I dismissed the next bus and decided I'd walk home. I wanted alone time with my headphones. Half an hour later I looked down at my hands and realized they had begun getting puffy. I was bright red, dizzy and ready to pass out. Turns out my own mode of transportation was the fast track to heat stroke. By the time I got home I was freaking out. I stripped off all my clothes, sprawled out on my bed, administered cold washcloths on my body and called my parents at work thinking I was going to die. The reason I tell this story when I describe DCFC is because they got me through suffering, be it physical or mental, brought on by life or my very own design.
And that was only my Junior year.
If you are new to this blog or if you've been reading for a bit and wonder why I mention my Senior year of high school, it's because it was one of the most pivotal years of my life. Not since the months leading up to having Jack have I ever been more challenged, battled and dealt with more emotions or questioned who I was more than that time. I haven't even really had the courage to separate the events and write them out, even if just for the therapy of it. Perhaps I should put it into bullet points so I can save time-
*Tumultuous relationship with an addict father (which I could devote quite a few blogs to, and will).
*Unresolved feelings of depression which resulted in years of poor coping mechanisms including 3+ years of cutting and other self-destructive behaviors.
All of this combined left me little time or knowledge of what it took to be "normal". And so, not wanting to burden those around me, not wanting to be "the damaged girlfriend", I turned to music as an escape. When I was alone with my headphones on I was safe. I had my own little haven and it was portable. I could find sanctuary in the back of a bus, on a walk, in the library.
Death Cab was probably the most calm of everything that I listened to. It was the warm blanket I needed. There in times of grief and even romance.
And now, even after things evened out, after all has passed they still remain. Bittersweet and beautiful.
Maybe it's bitchy of me but I hate the idea of play dates. This is a timely subject for me as the husband has taken a large interest in Jack's social development, because if left up to me there would be absolutely no play dates scheduled, you know, because of the aforementioned play date loathing. And here's why-
1. I hate play dates because of the inorganic way they're brought about. Back in the day, back when I was a kid (wow, I really just used that sentence) we went outside and made friends the old fashioned way- by accidentally hitting them in the head with a ball or saying you liked their Keds. WE made our own play dates. We got into a little innocent trouble, we made our own myths and sought out legends in the park. We built cities before the street lights came on without the assistance of parental units.
2. To me play dates usually only lead to two things- hour long minutes of judging other peoples parenting styles and inane conversation. And I'm usually too sarcastic or perverse for both of those activities.
"Is he potty trained yet?" "About as much as a drunk uncle."
"Is he reading by himself?" "Reading?! The damn child is a genius! He's writing his thesis on biomedical engineering* this spring."
"What is he into?" "Masochism."
And the thing is, if I DON'T answer things this way, I want to blow my brains out due to boredom. Because what I'm really thinking is "are you REALLY thinking this conversation is interesting?" And if it isn't about your kid, it's your husband, your job, your car, your food, all topics with an undercurrent of judgement. And since I'm pretty open, since I'll openly say what is going on in my life without any shame, I'm usually an easy target. My "bravery" (if you'd even call it that) quickly becomes my weakness.
We'll see I suppose. Greg has scheduled a play date for Jack with a girl he works with and her son on Saturday. And I'll try and not fidget, say "fuck" out loud and such.
The only child in this play date will likely be me.
The things I do for this face...
* You never know, his dad did after all. I married a damn smart cookie. He's the brains and I'm...the ruckus starter of the family.
I haven't posted anything in a over a week, which for me is a bit weird. It usually comes down to three things- I don't have any inspiration (but will post fluff posts to compensate), I'm busy or I want to include pictures but haven't taken many, probably because I'm busy and uninspired. As of late all three of these things mixed themselves into a This Will Keep You From Blogging cocktail and knocked me off my ass. In a good way though. To update-
*I finally got a job!! I was hired at a nearby restaurant as a server, which I was pretty floored over as I have no serving experience. So I've been trying to memorize a menu chalk full of food I've never had or heard of before (I've had Indian food all of once in my life prior to getting this job), learning the restaurant layout, light bartending, holding heavy trays without toppling over (I lack any decent upper body strength) and smiling at people who don't plan on tipping you. It's challenging but I'm enjoying it so far. It's nice to get out of the house, interact with adults, get annoyed over things other than poop, tantrums and nap strikes and feel like you're contributing to the household (financially anyway, I know I contribute my ass off in other ways). This job also coincided with an H&M grand opening by us. I'll start working on uplifting the economy soon.
*Along with the job and child rearing, I'll be walking for a local designer during Tucson Fashion Week. I met her once so far and I've pretty much started cultivating a new girlcrush because she's super awesome and cute. Hopefully I'll have a lot of pics to upload on here as a result.
*I decided to rock a new hairstyle on my off time- Presenting Amanderken: She Who Milkith Cows Coyly.
*I really want to do a couple style posts as I found a really cute Anthro dress at Buffalo for $22! And it was brand new, tags and everything still attached. It was like finding a unicorn. Also, see the aforementioned H&M opening.
Jack was a casualty of my H&M enthusiasm. I bought him this hat for $7. This picture doesn't really display it properly, but it was the best he could do given his attitude at that moment. He looks like he's the lead singer to a toddler ska band.
*Now that I have a job, my feelings that I pushed to the backburner about adopting a kitten have come back full force. I even did a "Cat Compatibility" assessment (shut up, don't judge me!) on Animal Planet and I got paired with this little guy- The Abyssinian. We'll see...
Oh! And I'm obsessed with this song. Wicked obsessed.
You submit something you've written and "they" analyze it and tell you who your writing style resembles. Being prone to sloth and not wanting to write anything new, I submitted this blog entry.
I have new stuff to update on soon. Tonight I have to finish up some stuff around the house and remedy these ghastly roots that have been sprouting atop my head.
*These were taken about 7 months ago. I can't believe how big he is now. **These weren't pre-planned. I was taking pictures of him when a Lady Gaga snippet came on MTV (I was watching Teen Mom because I'm addicted to it) and he started bopping along to it. So I looked up the On Demand music section, found Lady Gaga and played it to see if he'd do it twice and switched my camera settings to record. ***No, I don't know where he gets it from.
I know I posted on how wonderful this IUD has been but apparently I DID jinx myself. The cramps haven't been horrible, barely even adequate enough to really complain about (I've learned to just pop a few ibuprofen before I start up on a bitchfest) but whoooooooaaa....WHOA!
I'm bleeding like a sieve! It's insane. Insane enough to have to change a SUPER tampon every hour or so. Insane enough to have to change clothes...twice. How somebody can go on like this without dying or at least getting a little faint is, I don't know, supernatural. And not in a cool way. I feel like a freak. And I feel a little bummed because for awhile there I was tooting this IUD's horn like a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader. All "I feel so great" and "pssshht I feel bad for anybody on anything else. This thing is the tits!" And THIS happened.
I have my 4 week check up tomorrow so my doc can see if things are still peachy with the IUD and it's placement, and this will mark the THIRD time I've seen her with a great big red welcoming wagon.
I know I was told the first few periods would be heavy, so I'm really hoping this is normal.
I just had to vent somewhere. Oy...the joys of being a woman.
