"All my friends have flowers in their eyes...but I got none this season."

In April N and I went to NYC. After a delightful afternoon of being introduced to Magnolia cupcakes by our good friends the Shares, we headed to the Nederlander theater to see Guys and Dolls.

I like to get there early but I hate the waiting once I get there. So, to gauge just how close we are to starting, I take a look around the house to see how many people are there. I'm scanning the Nederlander that night when I see a guy bounding down the center asile, dreadlocks bouncing. I felt myself get cold and my heart start to beat faster. Oh. My. God. That's. Adam. Duritz. I mean, I totally geeked out there for a hot second. N was hardly amused. I was annoyed that he didn't share my awe. Then I'm shocked. I'm shocked that no one else is going crazy like I am. And then I remember. No one really knows who he is. Especially the kind of people who would go to a shoddy revival of a Broadway classic. I make it my mission to make contact.

At intermission, after a smoke with Matthew Perry (who was kind of a douche), I see Adam Duritz standing in the lobby talking to an unassuming older couple. I pass up my chance to talk to him.

Show ends. I go outside. Walk PAST Adam Duritz. MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH HIM. And KEEP WALKING.

I knew instantly that I would regret that. I should have just said what I wanted to say. Which was something like, "Hi. I don't normally do this. Actually I've never done this. But I just have to say this or I'll regret it. Your music defined my youth. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Adam Duritz is the lead singer of Counting Crows. In case you didn't already Google that shit.

I'm sitting here watching something I DVR'd on Palladio. A concert performance of their latest concept album, Saturday Nights and Sunday Mornings. He's just intro-ed his next song and it's "about when you just become so numb that there's no way to touch the world at all except through acts of extreme violence. And this is about driving the highways in the middle of the night, and this is about everybody at once and this is about me and this is called Cowboys"

fsdf

Yes! Yes! Yes! This is why! This is why this music carried me through my confusing, emotional, transcendent, horrible, sweet, exciting, horny high school and college years.

"This is a list of the things I should be, but I'm not"

"Well all the blue light reflections that color my mind when I sleep.

And the lovesick rejections that accompany the company I keep.

All the razor perceptions that cut just a little too deep.

Hey, I can bleed as well as anyone, but I need someone to help me sleep."

and my favorite, and the inspiration for the title of this blog

"Amy hit the atmosphere, caught herself a rocket ride out of this gutter."

Dying for a cheeseburger and a pack of Marlboro's

So, in an attempt to get this surgery thing up and running again, I've switched doctors from the fat jersey guy in polyester pants to the Jon Gosselin lookalike at Temple University Hospital. The first time I met him he promptly wrote me a stack of prescriptions for various tests. So far I've been for an Upper G.I., an ultrasound of my abdomen and, most recently, a EGK and an echo cardiogram with a cardiologist. The upper g.i. results came back unremarkable. I am pleased to report that my stomach and small intestine is "perfect". My heart, however, is not quite so perfect. I spent two hours with the cardiologist this past Thursday. First, my blood pressure is so high it could power the space shuttle. This is news to me. Mere seconds before he took it, I had bragged to him that my bp was "always a perfect 120/80". This was not a lie. I have only had a high reading once. A few months ago when my doc took it. When the nurses take it, it's always been good. Then, during the echo he finds that the walls of my heart are "thickened". This is called Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy. In layman's terms: your heart is like tires on a car. If you take care of the tires, they can last you 40k milles or so. If you don't, they go much faster. My heart is like those worn-out tires. Basically, I'm heading for a heart attack at age 41. Just like my dad. This will never go away. But it is my fault. He says it's from years of unchecked hypertension. Who knew? I certainly didn't.

The good news is that with some weight-loss and me ditching the cigarettes, I can prolong "the tires" and drive safely for a good long time.

When I left the doc I simultaneously felt like I wanted to cry hysterically out of fear and dance around singing "I've got the golden ticket!" Because, while this is a death sentence in my current state (a chain smoking girl of zaftig proportions), it is the "golden ticket" to getting my surgery done. Horray! I have a co-morbid condition!

The funny thing is, I really didn't feel as scared as I felt like I should be feeling. The doc said "In your younger years, you really can kind of abuse your body with little consequence. Now, at your ADVANCING AGE you have to buckle down and take care of it." I nodded sagely. Using my best acting skills to act like I was prepared to "buckle down". Am I prepared to do the things I need to do to live a healthy lifestyle? I'm not sure. There's a big part of me that wants to eat yummy things and smoke endless cigarettes and drink late night cocktails. I have always been a "live for the moment" kind of girl. I don't think too much about the future.

Perhaps it's time to start.

Transitions

N and I are remodeling our kitchen. Pink counter tops and flowerpot wallpaper be gone!

So, on Thursday the guy came to give us an estimate on some nifty new laminate flooring. After he left, we went over to Lowes and bought a new set of shiny stainless appliances. I haven't been that excited in a long time. When the floor was installed on Friday afternoon, I was literally shaking with anticipation. When it was finished I actually got down to lay upon it.

All this excitement got me thinking.

When is the point when you no longer become excited about toys, dolls, video games and become just as excited about, say, new bed linens or a sofa? Is there an exact moment you can pinpoint? It kinda makes me sad that I can't remember that moment, or those series of moments. How does childhood, the defining era in our lives, slip away so quietly? Sometimes I miss being a child so much. Especially in the summer. Especially at twilight. The sounds of the crickets, the fireflies, the robins transport me back to my youth. Running around my neighborhood with my friends....cherishing those last few moments of another fevered summer day. I think tomorrow I will go and buy a coloring book and some crayons. Try to get those feelings back. Or, maybe I'll just go back to Lowes and order some counter tops.

Up Up Up and Out

Oh great. I just put on "Colorblind" by the Counting Crows. Like I need anything else to depress me right now.

It's August. The Big Sunday on the long weekend that is Summer. I have FUCKING BRONCHITIS. There is no show to go perform tomorrow night. Ugh.

I've been inspired by C.Share's blog to get this thing up and running again. I had all these great ideas.....but now, nothing but me, Adam Duritz and my good ol' nebulizer.

All I know for sure is that I'm desperate to get out of this skin. I need a break from me. From my thoughts.....and malfunctions and issues and shortcomings.

70-30-86

No, I'm not colorblind
I know the world is black and white
Try to keep an open mind
But I just can't sleep on this tonight

Stop this train
I wanna get off
And go home again
I can't take the speed it's moving in
I know I can't
But honestly, won't someone stop this train?

Don't know how else to say it
Don't want to see my parents go
One generation's length away
From fighting life out on my own

Stop this train
I wanna get off
And go home again
I can't take the speed it's moving in
I know I can't
But honestly, won't someone stop this train?

So scared of getting older
I'm only good at being young
So I play the numbers game
To find a way to say that life has just begun

Had a talk with my old man
Said "help me understand"
He said "turn sixty-eight
You renegotiate"

"Don't stop this train
Don't for a minute change the place you're in
And don't think I couldn't ever understand
I tried my hand
John, honestly we'll never stop this train"

Once in awhile, when it's good
It'll feel like it should
And they're all still around
And you're still safe and sound
And you don't miss a thing
Till you cry when you're driving away in the dark

Singing

Stop this train
I wanna get off
And go home again
I can't take the speed it's moving in
I know I can
Cause now I see I'll never stop this train

Where was I when my father became a Republican?

My father just turned 70. He grew up in a poor neighborhood in Philadelphia with his blue-collar father, homemaker mother, older brother and younger sister. He dropped out of high school at 14 to join the work force. He was drafted into the army in that convienient time between WWII and Vietnam. Upon his release from the army, he became a blue-collar worker alongside his father, grandfather and his brother. He drove a fork-lift truck and was a upstanding labor union leader. He worshiped at the Irish-Catholic altar of J.F.K. His best friend was a gay man who dabbled in cross-dressing.
Today, he is a staunch Republican. WHAT THE FUCK?!?!? I don't get how you can spend your whole life one way and then switch in a moment. It's only been since W was in office. Is my father really that stupid that he believes that HE is the epotime of fine ruling? He's always trying to pick fights with N and I over politics. The way he looks at me with utter disgust when I talk about being a Democrat makes my stomach turn. I want to scream at him that it's HIS fault I am a Democrat! HE raised me that way. Has he simply blocked out the first 60+ years of his life?
As for my mother, well she's just a lemming. She will believe anything my father shoves down her throat. That is really disappointing. This was the woman who faught for women's rights. The woman who almost got fired for wearing PANTS to work!
I just can't stand it. No wonder I want to go home the instant I set foot in their house. There is no reasoning with them either. They are getting more conservative by the hour. Pretty soon my mom will be wearing high-neck blouses and lecturing me on the unholiness of birth control and The Family Channel while my father polishes his portrait of Pat Robertson. sheesh.

When you look to the night skies, don't think of goodbyes

It's been awhile....

It's a historic day. Inauguration day. I can honestly say that I'm proud to be an American today. It's been quite a long time since I was proud of that. In fact, I think this may be the first time. Before, I was indifferent. Then I was angry and ashamed. Now, I'm simply bursting with pride. I just hope he can hold himself on this pedestal that we've put him on. Don't let us down, mate.


On another and completely random note....I've become obsessed with the music of Joe Iconis.
He's like all my favorite aspects of musical theater and folk rock rolled into one neat package. I really wish he had some studio stuff I could buy instead of constantly using up my work's bandwith streaming his music from youtube. Check out "The Goodbye Song". It's adorable.