Had a FABULOUS night with Rock Star Fran last night. Happy Hour at 2A and then a tipsy couple o' slices at Two Boots and hours and hours of girl talk. How can you top that? I mean, maybe if we'd ended the night in the hammock... but only Maggie seems to like hanging out in the hammock with me. We gossiped about boys, looked at photos of one of her recent European Tours (I had no idea there were so many cute Euro indie band boy types), complained about working for a living, talked about family and friends and the narcissism inherent in blogging. It was great. We talked a little bit about the kind of friendships where you don't have to be involved with a person regularly to still have a great connection with them.
Like how I don't get to see Fran nearly as much as I want to, but we can grab drinks and dinner and talk for hours and not want it to end. I actually don't get to see any of my friends as much as I'd like to. Work and life and geography and the limited 24 hours in a day prevent that. But it's so good to know that even if I don't get to see or talk to most of my friends on a daily, weekly, monthly or sometimes yearly basis we can still get together and have the same closeness and warmth and respect we've always had. Even with friends from long ago who have gone off and had lives completely different from mine. We can still appreciate the things we have in common and enjoy the differences.
I sometimes get the impression that my friends who are married with kids in someplace a little quieter than New York believe I find them boring or frumpy. Which couldn't be further from the truth. For one thing, my single New York 30something lifestyle is not as exciting as Sex and the City might lead you to believe. For another, I think where someone lives or their marital/parental status has very little to do with how exciting they are. I've recently gotten back in better contact with a couple of friends from early high school and I love seeing their kids and hearing about their lives. They have all kinds of fun stories. And I sometimes think they have more wild, exciting times than I do. And it's not like they think my life is empty and meaningless because I don't have a man or babies. We still have plenty in common and lots to talk about and laugh about.
Even with all the ups and downs, long absences, misunderstandings, miscommunication and the general mess that comes with having people in your life I am so grateful for my big ole pile of friends. Because I am a cornball.
Friday, June 10, 2005
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Lawn Mowing
When I was younger, my Dad would make me mow the lawn. Which was really very reasonable of him. I was a member of the household, chores had to be done, I was 14 or so and fully capable of pushing a lawn mower around. It wasn't even that hard. Just hot and sweaty and time consuming (we had a lovely large yard). But I have a bit of a Princessy attitude at times. And lawn mowing time brought it out like you would not believe. Oh the whining and the moaning and the pleading and the "Daddy!!!" that came out of me. I really should be embarrassed. And I am. Sorta. But not enough not to continue to do it.
After much begging and pleading and whining and such, I finally admitted to myself that no one else was going to mow my damn lawn and I was going to have to do it myself. So I came home. Sat around for a little bit hoping someone would call and say, "Kidding! Of course I'll mow your lawn, silly Amanda!" When that didn't happen I sacked up, put on my scruffies, went to the basement, brought out the lawn mower and mowed the damn lawn. It was hot and sweaty and painful. And I really am not so good at it yet. It's a little patchy I think. But it's done. And I can only get better in time. And hopefully if I do it once every week or two rather than once every month or two it might be easier, right? Anyway, I did it. And the grass is mostly low now. I even got out the clippers and attacked the tall stuff crowding my bushes. And made a half-ass attempt to clip the stuff around the edge of the yard. Then I rinsed off the mower, wiped it down and sprayed it with WD-40. And then I lay down in my hammock and pondered what a bad ass I am. Because I mowed my teeny tiny lawn. All by myself. Like millions of folks do each week. And yet are not the bad ass I am.
When I was about 15 I put on my bikini to go mow the lawn. On an Air Force base. In the South. At the age of 15. Daddy was not pleased. But I do not remember having to mow the lawn after that. Though the summer I turned 16 we moved to Hawai'i and didn't really have much of a mowable lawn after that so... maybe it wasn't the bikini. I like to believe it was the bikini and that I'm all sneaky and sly. Sadly, I don't think that's going to work here. And I'm going to be out there next Friday mowing it again before my backyard birthday party. Alas.
Because I am so awesome I also did some dishes and baked chocolate chip cookies last night. After mowing the lawn. You wish you could be so cool. And I wish I could have as much sleep as y'all probably did.
After much begging and pleading and whining and such, I finally admitted to myself that no one else was going to mow my damn lawn and I was going to have to do it myself. So I came home. Sat around for a little bit hoping someone would call and say, "Kidding! Of course I'll mow your lawn, silly Amanda!" When that didn't happen I sacked up, put on my scruffies, went to the basement, brought out the lawn mower and mowed the damn lawn. It was hot and sweaty and painful. And I really am not so good at it yet. It's a little patchy I think. But it's done. And I can only get better in time. And hopefully if I do it once every week or two rather than once every month or two it might be easier, right? Anyway, I did it. And the grass is mostly low now. I even got out the clippers and attacked the tall stuff crowding my bushes. And made a half-ass attempt to clip the stuff around the edge of the yard. Then I rinsed off the mower, wiped it down and sprayed it with WD-40. And then I lay down in my hammock and pondered what a bad ass I am. Because I mowed my teeny tiny lawn. All by myself. Like millions of folks do each week. And yet are not the bad ass I am.
When I was about 15 I put on my bikini to go mow the lawn. On an Air Force base. In the South. At the age of 15. Daddy was not pleased. But I do not remember having to mow the lawn after that. Though the summer I turned 16 we moved to Hawai'i and didn't really have much of a mowable lawn after that so... maybe it wasn't the bikini. I like to believe it was the bikini and that I'm all sneaky and sly. Sadly, I don't think that's going to work here. And I'm going to be out there next Friday mowing it again before my backyard birthday party. Alas.
Because I am so awesome I also did some dishes and baked chocolate chip cookies last night. After mowing the lawn. You wish you could be so cool. And I wish I could have as much sleep as y'all probably did.
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Let's Dance in style, let's dance for a while.
Lately I've had a hankering to hear the song Forever Young. The one by Alphaville. I think it's partly because I'm not entirely happy with my relationships right now. Any of them. Well, a couple of them have had good moments of late. But no more than two or three.
Some of it's probably me, some of it's my friends. I don't know. I honestly don't care. I'm just pissed. I feel very unwanted right now. Needed, yes. Used, played, tolerated, handled, patronized, and probably loved, sure. But not wanted. And I'm the kind of person who would rather be wanted and liked than needed. I would rather have people tell me they love me, they love being with me. I like compliments. Specific ones. Not, "you're responsible or useful or there or a good listener or somehow capable in a way that helps me." Not something generic like, "you're fun, funny, friendly, nice, whatever." Something specific to me and my awesomeness. Because while I am flawed and will probably always have room to grow and things I want to work on and traits that people just don't like; I do believe I'm awesome. And I don't really think anyone else knows this right now. And it's pissing me off. But, that's neither here nor there, really. Sometimes people suck. Sometimes people are shitty friends. It happens. Whatever.
There ARE times when people don't suck. Sometimes there are perfect moments of contentment with friends. And so many of those moments stay with me. Some memories are stronger than others at different times. But when they're strong I can remember them so clearly it's almost like I'm still there.
Once, long ago in high school, MeatBoy, FlyBoy, Felicia and I went to Waimanalo Beach. No special reason. Just because. We went swimming and goofed around and probably had a picnic or something. I don't recall.
I do remember FlyBoy and Felicia going down to the edge of the water to build a sand castle while MeatBoy and I stayed up near the trees listening to some mix MeatBoy had made.
It was a gorgeous day. Sunny. Beautiful blue skies. Hot, but with a strong enough breeze that it felt cooler. Lots of families were out on the beach and you could hear folks playing in the water, the waves hitting the shore, birds now and again, the wind through the trees. At one point I laid down and put my head in MeatBoy's lap. He started playing with my hair and I love when people play with my hair. It feels so good. So, I just laid there thinking about how amazing life was. I was in Hawai'i on a beach on one of the most beautiful days I've ever seen. I was with friends I could feel comfortable with to the point where we just were there together. No deep conversation was had, no one needed anything, I didn't feel like I had to be entertaining or charming. We were just there together. MeatBoy and I weren't really even talking, and we could hear FlyBoy and Felicia giggling and goofing around with their castle. And then MeatBoy said that I would love the next song on the mix. It was Forever Young. And it was perfect in that moment. At some point in the song FlyBoy and Felicia came up and started building a pyramid on my legs. You know, because I was laying still and there was sand so why wouldn't you do that? And we were all happy and enjoying the day and enjoying being together. So now, every time I hear that song I think about that day and it makes me feel a little bit like I did then.
A few years later Felicia decided that I was not a good friend and dropped out of my life. MeatBoy and I still see each other a couple of times a year and FlyBoy and I stay in touch with the occasional email. But none of us have the same relationships with each other that we did then. But it was so good then. And I'm so grateful for that time. And all those other times that trigger similar feelings of peace and total happiness.
Keeps me going during the crap times while I wait for people to be more appreciative and me to be more accepting of the way the world works.
Some of it's probably me, some of it's my friends. I don't know. I honestly don't care. I'm just pissed. I feel very unwanted right now. Needed, yes. Used, played, tolerated, handled, patronized, and probably loved, sure. But not wanted. And I'm the kind of person who would rather be wanted and liked than needed. I would rather have people tell me they love me, they love being with me. I like compliments. Specific ones. Not, "you're responsible or useful or there or a good listener or somehow capable in a way that helps me." Not something generic like, "you're fun, funny, friendly, nice, whatever." Something specific to me and my awesomeness. Because while I am flawed and will probably always have room to grow and things I want to work on and traits that people just don't like; I do believe I'm awesome. And I don't really think anyone else knows this right now. And it's pissing me off. But, that's neither here nor there, really. Sometimes people suck. Sometimes people are shitty friends. It happens. Whatever.
There ARE times when people don't suck. Sometimes there are perfect moments of contentment with friends. And so many of those moments stay with me. Some memories are stronger than others at different times. But when they're strong I can remember them so clearly it's almost like I'm still there.
Once, long ago in high school, MeatBoy, FlyBoy, Felicia and I went to Waimanalo Beach. No special reason. Just because. We went swimming and goofed around and probably had a picnic or something. I don't recall.
I do remember FlyBoy and Felicia going down to the edge of the water to build a sand castle while MeatBoy and I stayed up near the trees listening to some mix MeatBoy had made.
It was a gorgeous day. Sunny. Beautiful blue skies. Hot, but with a strong enough breeze that it felt cooler. Lots of families were out on the beach and you could hear folks playing in the water, the waves hitting the shore, birds now and again, the wind through the trees. At one point I laid down and put my head in MeatBoy's lap. He started playing with my hair and I love when people play with my hair. It feels so good. So, I just laid there thinking about how amazing life was. I was in Hawai'i on a beach on one of the most beautiful days I've ever seen. I was with friends I could feel comfortable with to the point where we just were there together. No deep conversation was had, no one needed anything, I didn't feel like I had to be entertaining or charming. We were just there together. MeatBoy and I weren't really even talking, and we could hear FlyBoy and Felicia giggling and goofing around with their castle. And then MeatBoy said that I would love the next song on the mix. It was Forever Young. And it was perfect in that moment. At some point in the song FlyBoy and Felicia came up and started building a pyramid on my legs. You know, because I was laying still and there was sand so why wouldn't you do that? And we were all happy and enjoying the day and enjoying being together. So now, every time I hear that song I think about that day and it makes me feel a little bit like I did then.
A few years later Felicia decided that I was not a good friend and dropped out of my life. MeatBoy and I still see each other a couple of times a year and FlyBoy and I stay in touch with the occasional email. But none of us have the same relationships with each other that we did then. But it was so good then. And I'm so grateful for that time. And all those other times that trigger similar feelings of peace and total happiness.
Keeps me going during the crap times while I wait for people to be more appreciative and me to be more accepting of the way the world works.
Why would you want my Number? (don't read, Daddy)
So, a total stranger saw me walking to the train this morning, turned around, chased me down and introduced himself. Then asked me for my number.*
I honestly had no idea what to do. I HATE giving out my number. I'm actually more willing to go home with someone than give them my number (sorry, Mom). I've done it before (given out my number, and, um, well, I've also gone home with someone I didn't give my number to (sorry again, Mom)), but it feels weird. Giving out my phone number. Going home with someone feels awesome (sorry again, Mom). Usually I only do it because I'm drunk, in a panic or so totally amused by the situation that I cannot help myself. Like the time the guy driving the 1 train asked me for my number. He was so cute and I was so amused I couldn't help myself. And, um, that ended up working out real well for me for a few weeks. Heh. But, back to my little dilemma.
Is it okay to give out my number to someone one the street that I don't know at all? We didn't get to chat in a bar for a little bit or meet through friends or even chat on a train for a while. Nothing. He looked kinda cute and told me his name, but that was it. And really, why would he ask for my number? What makes you ask someone for their number. I don't think I've actually ever asked for someone's number so I have no clue. And it's not like I look devastatingly beautiful today. It's not even one of my "pretty days". I must look easy. God, that's totally it. I put a little mascara on and have my ass swinging iPod listening walk going and I look like a total ho. I don't wanna look like a ho. Dammit.
I should've given him my number, huh? It's not like I've never ignored a boy who called me before. I'm so odd. I cannot date. I'm completely incapable.
*This is not the first time this has happened on my morning commute. Why must people ask for my number before I have had coffee? It seems unwise.
I honestly had no idea what to do. I HATE giving out my number. I'm actually more willing to go home with someone than give them my number (sorry, Mom). I've done it before (given out my number, and, um, well, I've also gone home with someone I didn't give my number to (sorry again, Mom)), but it feels weird. Giving out my phone number. Going home with someone feels awesome (sorry again, Mom). Usually I only do it because I'm drunk, in a panic or so totally amused by the situation that I cannot help myself. Like the time the guy driving the 1 train asked me for my number. He was so cute and I was so amused I couldn't help myself. And, um, that ended up working out real well for me for a few weeks. Heh. But, back to my little dilemma.
Is it okay to give out my number to someone one the street that I don't know at all? We didn't get to chat in a bar for a little bit or meet through friends or even chat on a train for a while. Nothing. He looked kinda cute and told me his name, but that was it. And really, why would he ask for my number? What makes you ask someone for their number. I don't think I've actually ever asked for someone's number so I have no clue. And it's not like I look devastatingly beautiful today. It's not even one of my "pretty days". I must look easy. God, that's totally it. I put a little mascara on and have my ass swinging iPod listening walk going and I look like a total ho. I don't wanna look like a ho. Dammit.
I should've given him my number, huh? It's not like I've never ignored a boy who called me before. I'm so odd. I cannot date. I'm completely incapable.
*This is not the first time this has happened on my morning commute. Why must people ask for my number before I have had coffee? It seems unwise.
Monday, June 06, 2005
Summertime
When did we have Spring? Did I miss Spring? It was cold. And then it was rainy. There were a few cool, clear days, more rain and coldness and then it got HOT. It hardly seems like we get Spring anymore. Seasonal changes are supposed to be one of the few benefits of not being in Hawai'i. And lately all I get is Winter, Rain and the middle of Summer. I miss Spring. Just a few weeks where it's in the 60s, maybe the low 70s. Clear and pretty with the occasional brief rainstorm. I want Spring, dammit!
But, Spring or no I have been LOVING my backyard. Well, I haven't actually mowed it yet. And I need to. And I'm dreading it. Because the grass/weeds are high enough to poke me when I lay in the hammock. And that's not so good. But other than that, love it.
Yesterday as I was nursing the sleepies, the crankies and the mild hangover (I really never drink enough water even when I'm not tossing back beer) I sprawled out in the hammock with a book & a raspberry cider and it was awesome. I think I was out there for hours. Reading, swinging, drinking, looking at the pretty sky through the pretty leaves on the pretty tree... Listening to my neighborhood. Occasionally someone a few yards down blasts Italian Opera. Which just makes me smile. Because it is Brooklyn and I'm out in my yard listening to Italian Opera. And it kind of makes my heart swell. I don't know how I will ever live anywhere else. Especially if I can find someone to clean and mow my lawn. THAT would be awesome. Anyone interested in a Cabin Boy position?
But, Spring or no I have been LOVING my backyard. Well, I haven't actually mowed it yet. And I need to. And I'm dreading it. Because the grass/weeds are high enough to poke me when I lay in the hammock. And that's not so good. But other than that, love it.
Yesterday as I was nursing the sleepies, the crankies and the mild hangover (I really never drink enough water even when I'm not tossing back beer) I sprawled out in the hammock with a book & a raspberry cider and it was awesome. I think I was out there for hours. Reading, swinging, drinking, looking at the pretty sky through the pretty leaves on the pretty tree... Listening to my neighborhood. Occasionally someone a few yards down blasts Italian Opera. Which just makes me smile. Because it is Brooklyn and I'm out in my yard listening to Italian Opera. And it kind of makes my heart swell. I don't know how I will ever live anywhere else. Especially if I can find someone to clean and mow my lawn. THAT would be awesome. Anyone interested in a Cabin Boy position?
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