Dude, this blog listed me as their parent blog, and i’m not sure if i’ve read it before even though it’s nearing its first birthday.
Either i don’t get much clickthru from there, or i’m about as good at this whole (blog)parent thing as my dad was.
Wow, it’s been a while since i sat down just to write something rambly, pointless, and dripping with sarcasm.
I definitely feel more real now.
Everybody has something that makes them feel real. Or, realer, if you already believe in yourself. Attention and applause generally fit the bill in the circles i move in, but sometimes the thing you really need is a little more tangible. Money. A nice place to live. Gourmet food.
Despite my obvious predilection for both applause and attention, there are some other things that i require to feel as though i am an actual and worthwhile corporeal entity that is actually meant to take up space and breath. Or something like that. Things that make me feel as though things are going well and i really ought not to go frolic in traffic anytime soon.
One of those things, for those of you who don’t pay much attention, is music. Whether i’m listening to it, making it, or just hearing it in my head, my life feels like nebulous between station static without a soundtrack to tune in on. I also need something to do … doing nothing or participating in something passively tends to make me stir crazy in a very short amount of time. Thus my general distaste for television, past the obvious Friends fixation and American Idol addiction. The list goes on and on, with varying assignations of importance, down to the little things: Jeans that make my ass look good, for example.
There was one thing that was missing from the assemblage that makes up the difference between my current glib happiness and the droll existence i lived late last year; one especially tangible item that my life seemed to beg, nay, yearn for. I was certain that having it would make me happier and increase my quality of life.
Elise bought me the blender about two weeks ago.
For two weeks it just sat on my kitchen shelf, looming like a Northern Star over my blended-drink-less life. It was an invitation to smoothies and daiquiris, health shakes and margaritas … in effect, an invitation to increase my happiness and well-being in the area of semi-liquids. And it was still snuggly nestled in its cradle of Styrofoam and cardboard … until Tuesday night. That night i gathered girlfriends, roommates, and our general partner-in-crime SL and her beau. All of us were ostensibly assembled to watch the aforementioned American Idol program, but we had the secondary purpose of breaking in my blender with a jumbo-sized TGI Friday‘s premixed Mudslide. And break we did.
Three days later, and i am noticeable a more chipper person than i was before i slit the tape on the top of the blender-box open. It isn’t that having a blender is about getting really sloshed, though – as we found out yesterday – getting a few drinks into me makes mopping the kitchen a lot more fun. It’s just one of those appliances i’ve always felt as though a real person might own. I mean, how can you be real without the capability to make milkshakes? Eventually i’ll need an entire kitchen full of widgets and whatsits to make me happy, but for now i’m happy to have a ten-speed jumbo-pitchered blender to brighten my days.
Anyway, point being, i have moved on step closer to my materialistic and self-centered version of Nirvana. Now all i need is a gold record and abs of steel.
What about you?
Waking up early reminds me of my old homes and of high school. How i used to be so sleepy that i couldn’t imagine moving, let alone showering or eating or walking to the car, but i knew that i didn’t have a choice. Being the first student into my high school at 6:59 just as they turned off our industrial strength alarm, and wandering the empty halls up to my homeroom where i would lay my head against the cool black surface of my lab table and drift off until other people began to drift in a half hour later.
Being adult about something is so jarring, so unusual. I make a decision that i know doesn’t make me happy, but it makes sense, and i wonder how i ever learned to do that. This morning at twenty to seven i could’ve just turned the lock on my door and went back to bed – ignoring the imminent calls of Lindsay and Kate for me to join the early edition of our car pool. I wanted to sleep another hour. I want to sleep another hour right now. But i didn’t, and i’m still not; i am here at work marveling that i am getting anything done despite the cobwebbed haze of sleep that is still shrouding my consciousness hours later.
There’s something about responsibility. There is something about appreciating it more, and also something about knowing what’s important. But, i sometimes still forget to differentiate between things that are important to do and things that are important to me.
In other news, i defragmented my hard drive, devirginized my new blender, and bought two really sexy shirts for $20 at the newly (and inexplicably) renamed Express For Men. How Have You Been?
A new link: Brian Sharpe, a singer-songwriter out of Chicago, has high-lighted my Trio feature on his listening page. Brian has recently written the score to a local theatre production, but as Elise is asleep about five feet from here i cannot sneak a listen until tomorrow morning. For now i’ll be forced to keep listening to the inventive new covers record by Peter Mulvey on my tinny little earphones, but rest assured that i will be listening to Brian tomorrow.
Nothing’s stopping you, though.