Thursday, July 24, 2008
One one one one.
So I apologize for being unposty lately – I’m sorry, my chickens.
I’ve been listening to music to pull myself out of my funk and block out the bad karma flying around my head around here, so in lieu of yet another diatribe on the merits of caffeine/stupidity of people/awesomeness of [pop culture phenomena], I’ll share a couple of songs with you.
The Flamingos, I Only Have Eyes For You
This is probably the most well-known version of this song, and it’s my favorite. I think of American Graffiti when I hear it (SUCH a good movie, but I have a thing for [young] Ron Howard – it’s the red hair), and to me the echoey effects of the backup singers conjure romantic, foggy summer nights.
This is Photograph, off of Jamie Cullum’s Catching Tales that I posted about previously. (Sorry I can’t find a better video, but I like the album version better then the video cut of the song.)
I love the opening piano line – it’s new and innocent and hopeful, and I love how that fits so perfectly with the message of the song: “When I look back on my ordinary, ordinary life, I see so much magic though I missed it at the time.” Dude. Word.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
The past several weeks have been busy and rough, and I wish that life had a fast forward button so I could zip through the next few weeks without having to actually deal with them. I dragged myself out of bed and through the motions of getting ready this morning, and I was pulling in the parking lot here at workwhen I realized that I may have forgotten to apply deodorant this morning. Hmmm. I have a stash of stuff for such occasions, but I’ll admit that as soon as I got to my desk and saw my inbox, I forgot about it…until a few minutes ago when I went to the bathroom and saw in my reflection three large telltale powdery white streaks across the shoulder of my navy blue shirt, which I’ve apparently been parading around with all morning. Awesome. Not so much a Secret, I guess. (I know, that was weak, but I had to.)
I was out of the office most of the day yesterday to attend a funeral for my great aunt. I spent 8+ hours with my mom and assorted family that I haven’t seen in probably five years, since my grandfather’s funeral. (I thought about it again and realized they probably came to my wedding in 2004, but I can’t remember a lot of that day). It was kind of surreal. I get extremely uncomfortable at funerals, and I did not really know that aunt nor do I know that branch of my family very well. It was physically and emotionally tiring to speak in platitudes all afternoon. I hate doing that; I hate being fake and formal, but apparently I’m good at it. I don’t know if that’s something to be proud of – I don’t think adding “Excellent bullshitter” to my qualifications necessarily makes me a more valuable employee.
As usual, I am struggling for breath under mounds of unfinished work (and yeah, I know, I’m whining about feeling overwhelmed but I still find enough time to whine). I am very, very close to waving a sad little white flag and admitting that I Really Don’t Know If I Can Do This. I keep thinking that I’d feel better if I could just have a really good cry, and (self-serving as it sounds) I’d thought that the funeral might be a good, obvious trigger, but no dice. I listened to a sappy song, finally alone in my car on the way home last night, but I could only squeeze out three little half-assed tears. I never thought it would be so frustrating to be unable to cry. Maybe that’s what it’s like to be a dude…
Monday, July 14, 2008
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Me (stressed): Server was down all afternoon, so I’m working pretty late tonight. You’re on your own for dinner – we’ve got leftovers and stuff in the fridge.
J (pitifully, with eyes dilated, at the optometrist's): Oh. But I’m hungry nooooow.
Me: So go eat something. GOD.
So my brainpower is all used up on work, and I have no juice left for you, my lovelies, but here are a few bits of pulp:
-We had dinner at my in-laws’ on Sunday, and my 17 year-old brother-in-law and my 10 year-old nephew were playing Rock Band on drums and guitar, respectively. I watched for a while, and then asked if I could play on vocals; they agreed in much the same manner that you appease your crazy aunt every time she wants to regale you with the same tired story of the time she saw Wayne Newton in concert and he kissed her ON THE MOUTH. And then. I proceeded to Rock It. We played for nearly four hours, stopping only for a few minutes to eat dinner, and then when J pointed out that No Really, You Have To Work Tomorrow. There were a few songs I didn’t know, but still: Dude. It’s like karaoke with points, plus TAMBOURINE, which makes everything better. Aaand I gave my avatar a giant bouffant, which is pretty fucking awesome, too. Dear Rock Band, I love you; let’s make out. Love, Gin
-I went out and bought the first season of Mad Men yesterday, and (for me) the special features alone are worth the cost of the box set. I forgot how visually stunning this show is. Love! Do yourself a favor and put in on your queue, rent it, buy it, WATCH IT. If you don’t like it, you can march right down here and spit in my coffee. The new season starts on Sunday July 27 on AMC – just enough time for you to get all caught up!
-One of my coworkers keeps an herb garden that is producing like crazy, and she brought in a bunch to share with us. I got some rosemary and Greek oregano, and it’s sitting here on my desk in cute little mini paper bags. It smells so good I could huff it. Is that weird?
Monday, July 7, 2008
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Sing it, Lilly
The last couple of weeks have been draining. Work has been long and nerve-wracking – I stumble home around 7, throw together something for dinner, have some kind of interaction with my husband somewhere in there, sit glassy-eyed and slack-jawed on the couch for a while, and fall into bed at 9:30 – wake up, still exhausted at 5:45 the next morning, lather, rinse, repeat. Words cannot describe how effing ready I am for this long weekend. My brain is crying for it. My little shriveled raisin of a soul cries out for nourishment and renewal; Here Soul, let me water you with a stress-induced crying jag, or alcohol – maybe both.
Just one more day…