day 39

I realize that I have been on this planet a great deal longer than the children I teach but I am still boggled by the fact that these children are totally clueless when it comes to good music. All fingers of blame point directly towards the parents. When raising a child you are not only responsible for their health and well being but you are also responsible for raising them to be musically savvy. Please parents do not assume that those kiddie programs on TV will do the job. I mean with the exception of Yo Gabba, Gabba. children's television programs do a piss poor job of educating children in the what qualifies as "good music".   Yo, Gabba Gabba introduces them to the artists and it is up to the parents to guide these children towards the artists body of work.  Guide them along the way parents and the children WILL listen.

I think if it were not for my own parents love of music I would probably be a Nickelback fan right about now or worse, I'd be free basing Fun Dip off of New Kids on the Block album covers. The Irish Queen schooled me in Classical as well as Opera, Swing, Jazz, Show tunes, Big Band, old school R&B, rock and roll,  folk music and so much more. The Captain was a fan of The Who, well 70's and 80's Who music but, hey that ain't so bad. He also liked The Police (not as much as me), Queen, Billy Joel, The Beatles, The Beach Boys, Buddy Holly, Chubby Checker, David Bowie, Chuck Berry, Fats Domino, The Ramones, and even Blondie. He lost me with his fondness for Meatloaf and The Village People, but we all have our guilty pleasure music.

Music has always been present in my life, lingering in the background to ease my mind.  No matter what my mood, I can always turn to music to take me away to where I need to be to feel safe. My earliest musical memory is listening to mom play Hoagy Carmichael tunes on the old stereo which was an actual piece of furniture in our household. I remember going on family outings and listening to the radio and we'd play this game. The parental units would play a mere blip of a tune and then turn the volume down and turn to me and say "Name that tune." Well 97% of the time I got the tune correct and 100% of the time I could name the musical artist. I chalk it up to that old memory of mine which I always describe as a blessing and curse.  That evil thing that is my sister was so very jealous because if I was not naming the tune, I was entertaining the grown-ups with my vocals. You know,  I still play that tune game in the car or just about any place but of course no one is asking me to "name that tune", I just name it. That could account for all those odd stares I get in the grocery store or dentist office waiting room.

When I hear a child tell me they don't know who sings a song or they don't even know the song or EVEN worse, they can't sing any songs other than the alphabet or songs we've learned in music class, I die a little inside. One young lad even told me that his daddy only listens to music in his truck and his mom never listens to music.  To me, a household without music is like a night without stars, very dark  and scary.   Well, I felt like Jack Black in the School of Rock film as I began to educate this boy.  

Now when we speak of playing music at lunch time, he often requests The Shins or Bob Dylan. He is a good kid and I certainly hope what I have taught him remains with him for eternity. How flipped was my wig when these young souls sitting my classroom confessed to me that they had never even heard of The Beatles. The Beatles!!  WHAT ARE THESE PARENTS TEACHING THESE CHILDREN!?!?!?!?  They can tell me all about Silly Bandz, what jibits go well with what Crocs and  even what Spongebob did on TV last night but not one single one of them can name an Elvis song. They are being robbed, ROBBED I tell you. I often think of calling Children's Services on these parents but I fear that wouldn't do any good. Something tells me that the employees of that establishment wouldn't know a good tune if it bit them on tukhus.



My plight is a simple one. If you have a toddler or you know someone who does, please, please, PLEASE educate them early about the dangers of listening to bad music. Life is more than The Wiggles and Barney tunes. Test the waters with those young minds and ears and expose them to high quality music for humanity sake!   If you know of someone with poor musical taste who is raising a child or even pregnant, an intervention is vitally important to that child's very existence. If you need assistance at any time, please contact me. I also have friends in the area as well as in New York, South Carolina, Florida,  California, Arizona and even, yes even Alabama who could jump in and assist with their vast knowledge of the decent music that is out there waiting to entertain young humans with delight. Stop raising your children to enjoy rubbish and start them on the righteous path today!




off to enjoy another sunny, SUNNY day!

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Day 37


Have you ever been really disappointed in a person, a person you have loved since they were born?  It's a real let down when you find out that someone did something that, in your book, is just plain wrong.  A poor choice in my humble opinion.  I was always taught not to judge others harshly for their mistakes no matter how big.  I have always tried to stay true to that but there are certain things I can not abide by.  Physical or mental harm to others is a BIG no-no in my book.  I joke about Lizzy Borden style murders but if you know me,  you know that is my way of coping. Humor always gets me through each agonizing day of the current mess that is my life.  Hell, I can't even kill a bug without feeling a tremendous amount of guilt.  I don't kill them because I have no right to kill and plus bugs have families.  I wish I had one.

 Cheating on someone falls under the  category of mental harm.  It breaks a person down when they find out someone they loved did such a dastardly act.  It breaks the heart as well as the soul.
So when I discovered that someone I love did this to someone else I love, well, I am just at a loss.

The outcome resulted in a pregnancy and what boggles my simple mind is that EVERYONE in this place thinks it is joyous news.  It's pretty fucked up in my humble opinion and I have yet to even say words to this person,  I can't even look at her without getting a sick feeling in my stomach.  I would LOVE to tell her exactly how I feel but again, I don't like to cause harm to others.  My words would sting and cause harm and a lot of discord that I am not prepared to deal with.   I wish the circumstances were different so that I could celebrate like the others but here I sit in this tiny little hole in the ground feeling miserable, disappointed and being so damn judgemental.  When the hell did I become this way?  Maybe I am wrong for having these feelings or maybe not.   Then all these questions come to mind like, where are you going put that thing when it hatches, the garage? 

I am also wondering if I have some sort of psychic ability that only exists in my dreams because if you recall back on Day 22 when I told the tale of the weird dreams involving baby furniture well, now we know the answer to that question.   One exciting thing about this so-called psychic ability, if I do have it, then I know that one day I might actually be happy and record music with Weird Al or Michael Rapaport will finally murder me.  I enjoy his film and television work but I just don't understand why he wants to murder me in my dreams.   Just like the world's fascination with Crocs and 80's Pop Music, it will always remain a mystery to me.

The one I feel sorry for the the fellow that was cheated upon. (is that even a pharse, "cheated upon")  The "cheatee" is someone dear to my heart and I hope he never finds out.  I get a real nasty gut ache thinking about how he must feel.  I could go on and on about how this whole  situation makes me feel.  I do know one thing, I will never feel any joy about the situation.  I have really distanced myself from the hostiles, ALL the hostiles.  I am courteous and polite in their presence because I just don't like confrontation.  I would rather sit back and let them be cruel and hurtful to me because I know in the end good things will finally happen to me.  I will just deal with it the best way I know how by smiling and saying nothing.  Who knows, perhaps in a few months I will finally come to terms with the fact that it is what it is.   For now, I will worry about the most important thing right now, GETTING THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!!

Off to enjoy another sunny, SUNNY day!

Perfect day

day 36
after a "perfect day" things don't seem so shiny anymore. how sad is it that you can't just enjoy what was and what will be again. when you come back to this tiny dark shoebox it drains the life out of you. you know that the perfect escape, that was the perfect day is gone. back to that mess that is your life. thankful for that perfect day with your mates and that perfect moment you keep in your pocket until the next one comes your way. you've found a simple escape, your hearts desire and it wasn't in your trash strewn, over grown with weeds and dog shit backyard, you actually had to go over rainbow to find it. count each sunset until that perfect day because you're back to lonely days for a while.


off to enjoy another sunny, SUNNY day.

You've Got A Friend in Me

DAY 35

It has been exactly one week and one day since I saw Toy Story 3 and I am STILL excited about it.  For those of you who don't know me, I am a huge, I mean HUGE fan of Pixar films.  In 1990, 5 years before I saw Toy Story on the big screen back in 1995 I had the privilege of viewing a Pixar short entitled Tin Toy.(the film was made in 1988)  I thought it was a very clever little short story and this new animation wasn't too shabby either.  However, the story about a toy who fears a toddler was pretty hilarious and very real and  I also love toys. So it was a great story!

 I did a lot of research on the folks who made the film because that is just how I roll.  If I love a film, I need to know all the details of the film, even where the director went to college.  Trust me, there are other film lovers out there just like me who do the exact same thing when they view a film they enjoy.  I mean we don't have a special club and obsess over our obsession but, we are out there and love our movies.

I continued to follow the work of these folks, these Pixar folks and way back in 1995 after hearing about this upcoming film entitled "Toy Story",plus the whole concept of your toys coming to life after you leave the room, a concept I believed after reading Frances Hodgson Burnett's A Little Princess when I was 7, you betcha I was going to be there to witness this event.  I was sandwiched between my pals  Farnz and Cobi and a handful of others in a PACKED theater on Black Friday, the opening day of the film, and within 9 minutes of seeing what I saw, I. WAS. HOOKED.   That is how it all began, my love affair with Woody, Buzz, Rex and the gang.  There were many Pixar films to follow that I loved and still love but Toy Story has always held a special place in my heart.  The whole concept of doing whatever it takes to help out your friends, whether they be long time buddies or new acquaintances, is just magical to me.   I am a gal who really loves her friends.

Toy Story 2 gave us new friends and new adventures and then there was a weepy moment.  "Seriously? you are weeping during a cartoon?! C'mon, this can't be!" was my initial reaction to my tears. Yes, there was a moment in Toy Story 2 that caused me to cry and still to this very day when I whenever I hear that Sarah McLachlan song I find myself very teary eyed.  I never felt a need for another film after Toy Story 2, I figured all the lose ends were tied up and we could all go about our lives and enjoy different characters in new films.  Well, I was wrong.  There was that lingering question of what happens to the toys when Andy, heaven forbid, grows up. 

Moving on to Toy Story 3. I thought,  okay, this is going to be fun, not knowing I'd be blind sided by tears again.  Oh not just tears but popcorn buckets full of tears.  I was not even prepared for the gallons that flowed from my soggy eyeballs.  Ginger Boy was there to hold my hand and give me popcorn napkins for those tears.  Shit, I have not cried this much since Jin and Sun drowned together on L O S T a month ago.  Oh that was a horrible night that still gives me chills.

I thought I was alone in my mini Weep Fest but I could hear other grown-ups sniffling around me.  Toy Story 3 is not a sad movie, no that's not what the tears were about, it was a poignant film.  TOY STORY 3, A PIXAR CARTOON, POIGNANT?  Yes, that's what the hell just typed, POIGNANT!   It was a brilliant ending to the Toy Story Saga, at least for me it was.  There was plenty of action, laughs, pop culture references, adventures, new characters, memorable quotes, brilliant music (I love film scores) and of course our old friends but there were also tears.  I was on the edge of my seat a lot and clutching my commemorative Toy Story 3 popcorn bucket (no extra charge if you bought a large) as well as Ginger Boy's hand.  I even found myself shouting "NO!" a la Buzz in Toy Story when he jumps off the back of the moving van and pulls on Scud's eyelids. (go back and watch it , it's really funny!)  Face it folks, I am attached to these characters and love them as if they were my own friends.  I also don't like to see "bad stuff" happen to humans (or toys in this case)  in films, which is why I don't care for most horror films made after the 1960's.  So, Toy Story 3 was also gut wrenching for me.  Never fear, everyone survives and the film has a happy ending, you are just caught a little off guard about how moving a simple family film can be.

When folks ask me what the film is about, I just tell them it is an action adventure, hilarious, silly,  gut wrenching, moving tale of love, loyalty and  friendship, about growing up and moving on. I won't give away any details from the film because you MUST GO SEE IT!  It is worth the price of admission, worth every single penny!  You can skip the 3-D because that part did not really make the film for me, I only saw it in 3-D because Ginger Boy is a visual effects kind of a man.  I was there for the story. When you go,  make sure you bring along tissues or if you're anything like me, a couple of rolls of Bounty paper towels.  I recommend taking a film companion along for the ride for those gut wrenching moments.  I am free most weekends if you need me, because as the song goes, You've Got a Friend in Me.

Off to enjoy another sunny SUNNY day. 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BROTHER!

Day 27

On a number 9 day in this mess that is my life, I'd like to wish a Happy Birthday to a special person, my little brother.  We are not blood related, in fact I am not blood related to anyone I know and that's a good thing because I think I have bad blood. Another tale for another moment in time.

If I had a million dollars today I would organize the coolest Birthday celebration for one of the coolest dudes in my life.  A million dollars for all the millions he has given me over the years.  A million laughs, a million kind words, a million cool presents, a million kind gestures, a million words of advice, a million fun moments together.  Here's where it turns into a Hallmark card,  he is one in a million, a kind and unique soul who means more to me than all the Snapple in NYC. Yes, that is A LOT! I don't think he even reads this silly blog but if he did, I'd want him to know without him I wouldn't still be here.  I am lucky because I have a handful of good people in my life who are there at just the right moments when I need them without me even having to ask them,  Little Brother is just one of them.  He may not even know how many times I've been on the verge of an act of desperation and then I get a random weird text message from him and I think, "this is what it's all about, and I need to hang in there so I don't miss what's next."

So thank you and Happy Birthday Brother.
Now on to sunny, SUNNY things today.

Lonely Day

DAY 23

My Shit is All Apart AGAIN!

Day 22

When I don't write, I am depressed. Sure I might talk to friends on the phone or even hang out with them, heck I even force myself to go to work and smile but deep down, I am deep down depressed.

When the hand can't hold the pen to put the words on the paper or the fingers can't hit the keys on the keyboard it is bleak moment in time for me. No one gives a fuck what I write, only I do and when I can't do it, it hurts. Those commercials on TV that say "depression hurts", well they are correct. Sometimes the physical pain out weighs the mental anguish. The only reason for the physical pain is because those that are depressed keep it all inside for too long that they start having weird aches and pains.

When you are blue you don't want to share it with the rest of the world because misery, at least my misery, does not want company OR sympathy. When the physical pain comes you don't share it because people will tell you "ah, it's all in your head, you're fine." If you've never been there then you don't know. If you have been there then please come and sit by me and we might have something other than Pop Culture to discuss. Oh joy, an actual deep discussion with the crazy girl.

Really deep thoughts are amazing and I have them all the time when I am like this. Some good thoughts and some bad. I question the universe and what goes through the minds of advertisers and television program directors. Oh don't get me started on Michael Bay or James Cameron, I question their actions even when I am not depressed! Then I question what is causing my depression and the list is endless. Part of this deep depression is the current living situation but that is only a mere fraction of what is bugging me. Everything I have ever done in life up to this point has me in tears at 3:15 AM most mornings. When I do get sleep the dreams that aren't cool like the Modern Family dream are very scary and VERY real and leave me wondering what is going to happen next. Dreans have always meant something to me beause I was taught to believe that they are a window to the future. Of course the guy that told me that was high on acid at the time but he was cool and I dug his philosophy.

Currently the dreams that have been haunting me are the ones in which all my stuff that is packed in boxes in the garage are gone and no one in the household has an explanation. The same statement is uttered over and over again to me by the hostiles in my dreams, "well, you're not the Queen." Then I see baby furniture in the garage and that makes me angry for some reason. I go to grab a large hunting knife and then Issac Hayes or sometimes Dick Cavett stops me. Now I am no expert on this but, I was told that if you dream of death, a birth occurs and if you dream of birth then there is death. Does this mean I am going to die or does the line about not being Queen mean my mother will die and why did Issac Hayes stop me in one dream and Dick Cavett in another? OY VEY! I am turning into one of those folks who stress about L O S T and want answers to all the questions. Sure give me answers Damon, Carlton and J.J. but I only watch your show because it's a REALLY GOOD SHOW so keep me in suspense a little and toss in some comedy. (LOVE THAT SHOW!!)

So here I am forcing myself to write because I know if I don't write it will make matters worse. Currently I don't have a notebook to write in because I turned my current notebook into a book of poems, songs and to do lists. I also use the pages for letter writting. I am kind of broke here and yet I still find cash for cigarettes and ice tea. This lame blog is my only outlet and with my luck it is only providing some REALLY, REALLY SICK individual with masterbation material or maybe not. I hope not, because that is just too icky for words. If someone is doing that whilst reading this, I think you need more help than I do.

Yeah and if I had FUCKING health insurance I could get some much needed therapy. Gee whiz another reason to be depressed. I just need to remind myself to be thankful for the things I've got and when I think about it, I do have plenty. A roof over my head (HA!), food to eat, clothes to wear, a goldfish who loves me, a handful of friends who have not abandoned me yet and my humor. If I did not have a sense of humor there would be a blood bath in the place. Actually I'd take the more clever approach that Jodie Foster took in the underrated film The Little Girl Who Lives Down the Lane. A few sips of the tea and they'd be tasting almonds and POOF no more hostiles in my life. I've watched enough films to know how to get rid of the bodies the right way and not get caught.

What sucks really big hairy blue balls is that I am always joyful this time of year because of the upcoming summer Birthdays including mine except this year I feel all empty inside and could care less about Birthdays. Don't even get me started on Christmas. Ginger Balls promised me we'd be out of here before the holiday season, which officially begins on October 1st when you decorate for Halloween and watch the zombie episode of South Park in my world. Oh Ginger Balls you better make good on that promise because if I can't have my ceramic jack-o-lantern that Aunt Helen made to look at in October or my groovy Christmas tree in December, what is the point of living? Don't even get me started on Chanukah.

I think I need some new music maybe that will help. Music, really good music, is like a warm embrace from an old friend you haven't seen in a long time, it makes you realize what is important in life. It makes you feel like you are home and I have not felt like I am home in many years. December 16 2006 I was home with Damien, Lisa and the gang on stage at the Tower Theater but for the most part I haven't felt that in a long, long, L O N G time. No matter how many new songs come my way, or concerts I attend, nothing has felt like home. I've enjoyed the experience but I haven't been home. By "home", I sure as shit don't mean this place. Home to me is where you belong and where you feel loved and welcome. That warm place that you get to snuggle into and be yourself and not force yourself to smile through the day just so folks won't be up your ass asking you "what's wrong."
That is home to me. I get a twinge of it when I go to the movies. Just a twinge mind you and every once in a while when I visit the fish at the pet store I feel it. Yeah, I guess I am a little nuts but it's refreshing in a way or at least I tell myself that.

So off I go to face another day of this. Another sunny, SUNNY day.

Hoarders - Can You Bring Me A Pickle?

AHH MY LIFE SEEMS LIKE A DREAM COMPARED TO THIS. . .