32 candles

Fare thee well 32 candles, hello Bean!

2010-08-12T10:21:00.000-07:00

Howdy all!

This blog has been neglected, and has fizzled into the past.

Follow me here:

http://beaninmyside.blogspot.com/

i'm a true romantic

2010-06-23T13:49:00.000-07:00

Amy Ray. True Romantic.

A Good Woman

2010-05-25T18:34:00.000-07:00

"A good woman will pick you apart
A box full of suggestions for your possible heart
But you may be offended and you may be afraid
But don’t walk away, don’t walk away"
-Bright Eyes

Integrity over Desire

2010-04-27T13:05:00.000-07:00

Manhole
(Ani DiFranco)

Im holding here a book
Notable, but not the greatest
Stolen for me by the latest
In a long line of thieves
And I'm just about to drop it
Down that manhole of memories
When I realize it doesn't bother me
Like love's mementos usually do
And I look up to see who's different here
The latest me or the latest you

Course, you're the kind of guy who doesn't lie
He just doctors everything
Chooses some unassuming finger
And quietly moves his wedding ring
Who rewrites his autobiography
For any pretty girl who'll sing
But you can't fool the queen, baby
Cuz I married the king

And maybe it was I who betrayed his majesty
With no opposite reality
Like a puddle with no reflection
Of the sky or the trees
But after my dreaded beheading
I tied that sucker back on with a string
And I guess I'm pretty different now
Considering

I kissed you on the street that night
On the far side of four
But I didn't like the taste
In my mouth or yours
And ignoring the persona you wore for my benefit
For once I had the balls to call it
Just call it
But a lesson must be lived
In order to be learned
And the clarity to see and stop this now
That is what I've earned

And maybe it was I who betrayed his majesty
With no opposite reality
Like a puddle with no reflection
Of the sky or the trees
But after my dreaded beheading
I tied that sucker back on with a string
And I guess I'm pretty different now
Considering

I'm holding here a book
Notable, but not the greatest
Stolen for me by the latest
In a long line of thieves
And I'm just about to drop it
Down that manhole of memories
When I realize it doesn't bother me
And heartache not so dire
Cuz I looked up to see integrity
Finally won over desire

cherish

2010-04-08T11:04:00.000-07:00

"Today a new sun rises for me;
everything lives, everything is animated,
everything seems to speak to me of my passion,
everything invites me to cherish it."

-Anne De Lenclos

why i'm in love with life

2010-04-05T08:27:00.000-07:00

*i felt the baby move for 20 minutes straight last night. i sang to her. i talked to her. and she moved. and moved. and moved.*

*i'm sitting in a coffee shop, down the street from my new home. drinking black coffee, making mixes for good people, and realizing how good spring break is.*

*i woke up and did yoga for 45 minutes. windows were open and birds were chirping.*

*i live with two very driven, centered women who have embraced my being with warmth and support. one loves to cook, the other loves to hike with dogs. i'm totally in love with home.*

*i'm fully realizing how much i needed change and fully feeling how good change is when it's right.*

*my cd is in the process of being mastered, and i've come to a genuine place of appreciation for what i've created.*

*as i'm writing this, a dear co-worker walked into the coffee shop and just gave me the biggest "welcome to the neighborhood" hug. i really feel a sense of being EXACTLY where i need to be.

*i sat beside a friend's daughter yesterday and she kissed my shoulder and arms repeatedly, only to hear 2 hours later that she doesn't do that with many people. i felt love, in its more pure, unaffected form.*

*i had my stitches removed. FINALLY! have a mini-crush on the dr. who did the magic.*

*my theater project is getting some footing, and that's promising.*

*dear co-worker from above (who just gave me a hug) surprised me-came back with pizza from stone oven and we just spent the last hour talking about music.*

*i slept in my own bed last night (haven't for 5 months) and woke up staring at the space i have defined as my own. i love what i saw.*

Moving

2010-04-03T05:23:00.000-07:00

I am moving.

I am moving.

I am moving.

I am exactly where I need to be.

how to remember love

2010-03-27T11:45:00.000-07:00

my favorite lines:

"she tied you to a kitchen chair
she broke your throat and she cut your hair
and from your lips she drew the hallelujah"

"love is not a victory march"

"remember when i moved in you
and the holy dove was moving too
and every breath we drew was hallelujah"

"all i ever learned from love
was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya"

baby!

2010-03-25T17:20:00.000-07:00

sometimes the world works in really, really mysterious ways. when you least expect it, you may find yourself in a situation you never saw coming. regardless of how strong the inclination may be to ask how or why, the best reaction turns out to be acceptance. it is in acceptance where i find my core radiates. as hard as it may be for me to get there, once i am there, i know i function at my best. life is kept in perspective and love flows freely, from my fingertips to my toes.

as challenging as this adventure may be (watching someone i love in pain is both emotionally AND physically difficult for me), i trust that its been offered to me from a higher power/place and i approach it with a deep sense of awareness. i know my heart is about to open up more than it has in years...perhaps, it will open up more than it ever has. in all honestly, i feel it already doing so. more than ever, i trust the value of my role in another person's life and i'm embracing it with great loyalty.

placing my hands on the belly of someone i love and feeling the life of a little girl move within is unbelieveably incredible. knowing that i am going to be the key support person--coaching, calming, assuring, and guiding--is the biggest honor i've had in my life.

i feel blessed. i feel alive. i feel so excited that i am going to be present for the birth of a child. it's something i've wanted to do since i was ten and now, at thirty-three, i will.

i'm getting music ready. i'm reading every doula piece of literature i can find. and i'm exercising--this is going to be an emotional, physical, and spiritual event!

8 weeks isn't too far away.

*please god, don't let me faint!*

run

2010-03-16T08:22:00.000-07:00

i am running
a half-marathon
of healing

a mile for forgiveness
a mile for understanding
a mile for sticking up for what is right
a mile for dignity
a mile for letting go
a mile for all those words said and written, but not lived
a mile for dreams, created and lost
a mile for mascara stained pillows
a mile for sensitivity, offered and robbed
a mile for dancing to songs we shared
a mile for pictures taken and taken down
a mile for music inspired by our touch
a mile for closure

7/64 of a mile for hope
that if we cross paths
we are bigger
than what we have been.

i am running
and may never stop.

"But Who's The Boy?" A Conversation with Mother

2010-03-14T17:59:00.000-07:00

I had dinner with my mother this evening. At the close of a truly fantastic weekend, we found ourselves deeply engrossed in fun, quirky conversation. At one point during the dinner, it became apparent that the waitress was paying quite a lot of attention to us. I didn't think too much about it until my mother made a comment about how she specifically catered to me. It dawned on me that she had brought a full side of extra asparagus, saying she "felt bad that one of them slipped off the plate", brought me 2 refills when I had yet to finish my first glass, and came back at least 4 times to ask how everything was. I just assumed she was new and was eager to please.

And then she winked at me.

I blushed.

I said to my mother, "I think the waitress is hitting on me."

Her response?

"But which one of you would be the boy?"

Suddenly I found myself in a conversation with my 77 year old mother, bridging generational gaps, as well as homosexual and heterosexual gaps, regarding intimacy and sex.

I found myself delicately describing how intimacy doesn't require a gender role, that sex between women doesn't require someone being a boy and someone being a girl. That depending on a mood or an emotional desire, someone may feel the need to be in control or be controlled, but that isn't necessarily gender specific. I described my own sex life. I was open and frank about how I've come to understand intimacy over the past ten years. Regardless of sex between two women, two men, or a man and a woman, it is truly best when two people are driven by the desire to please the other. If two lovers focus on giving the most of themselves intimately, then gender roles aren't really the focus. Pleasure is the focus of good intimacy. I've had bad intimacy and I explained why. It wasn't because of confusion over who was the boy and who was the girl. It was because of confusion in the heart to truly be open and giving as a lover.

I told my mother that I'm certainly not an expert, but I did need to clarify that intimacy is so much more than someone being the boy and someone being the girl. And after she thought about it, and thought about her own experiences, she concurred. Sex is an act of giving. Of body and spirit.

The cute waitress catered to me during dinner, and that not only made me blush, but it made me feel good. It's the simple act of giving that makes intimacy a beautiful thing. When I've catered to lovers in the past, I felt good. Some may look at how I expressed myself intimately and say, "oh, you're being the girl" or "oh, you're being the boy" but I think that's totally missing the point. And after a lovely conversation with my mother, I think she would take delight in explaining the point.

goodnight sweet sentra

2010-03-08T17:40:00.000-08:00

Oh little me. I must admit that I have always struggled a bit with change. Sometimes, regardless of how exciting or right the change is, I find myself with boxing gloves, shouting "hell no, I won't go." Perhaps it's the romantic in me that clings to what I hold dear, regardless of how bad it may be for me. Case in point--I cried when I said goodbye to my car on Saturday. I literally had tears in my eyes over a piece of metal that I had to have towed into the car dealership. Most people would be like, "thank god this piece of crap is gone--give me something new!" Me? Not so much. I had to go through a ritual of closure with my car. I took pictures of her-she looked so vulnerable and miserable beside the shiny, new vehicles. I took time (a good ten minutes) staring at her and remembering the places she carried me to, the amazing whoopie I had in her, the moments in her when my heart was broken, and the moments I sang at the top of my lungs on our tour through Ohio. She got me home safely, every time....even the times I pulled in praying she would make it up the driveway. I imagined what she would say to me if she could actually speak. I think it would go something like this:

"I love you. I loved you the moment you picked me out from the rest and called me your "pussy inferno." I loved that the day after you got me, I carried you all the way to Michigan, for your first Michfest, and I eased your anxiety about traveling by yourself because I was the safest, most secure piece of metal you ever owned. I loved that I was there when you had your heart broken by your first true love, how she left me and you in tears. I loved that I saw you grow beyond that moment. And I love that I have seen you grow again and again through challenges, be it a broken heart, a broken kidney, a broken ego. I love that you risked having sex in me, but should tell you that people did notice when I rocked back and forth. I love that you are about to embark on a new journey. I love who you are and I know I will no longer be the one to carry you, but I see who's come to fill my tires and I trust in my engine that she is the best thing for you. So let me go to the junk yard knowing that nothing will ever replace the 8 years we had together. Remember me and put down the boxing gloves--embrace the changes that lie ahead of you."

So with a new car, a new home around the corner, a new job on the horizon, and a new attitude, I am embracing change and allowing myself closure. I'm saying goodnight, loving the sunset and moon that close the day, and falling asleep with hope. The boxing gloves are in a box, in the closet.

daily advice to self

2010-03-02T20:56:00.000-08:00

dance in kitchen.

slide across linoleum floor.

sing into spoon.

*inspiration*

2 poems and a song

2010-03-01T21:41:00.000-08:00

*engagement*

the day began with information overload.
took me in perverse reverse to a settled fairytale that suddenly felt more Grimm.

how do you do, past?
i have loved and said goodbye,
yet here you bring me headlines that turn the volume up on my aching tits.

only a bit of my heart screams.
maybe just the left ventricle.
joy pumps through most of the rest.

it's just the newly engaged was such a lovely swan
and could lick the salt on my skin with the softest of tongues.
(i believe angels kissed her mouth with lover's chap stick.)

i would offer to sing at the wedding,
but seeing her has always left me
crossing my legs.
awkward.

she was the ink a poet's pen dips in.
once you dip,
you never forget.
she stains fingertips fluorescent.

(i just told a lass how she used to play tiger and growl into my neck.
growl,
sweet little bride.
growl.)

oh tiger, i tip my hat to you.
i bid you adieu.
do send a christmas card of you and the cubs.

*toes and destiny*

i can feel my toes tapping deeper into my destiny.

big toes tap, curl, embrace

what these moments are,

what those moments were,

and what moments lie ahead.

"What makes me think I can start clean slated, the hardest to learn was the least complicated."
-Indigo Girls

loyal friend

2010-02-25T04:42:00.000-08:00

Last night I visited with an old friend. I'm not quite sure if she's aware of the role she's played in my life, but I was reminded of how extremely valuable she is (and was) to me after spending an hour with her. She's one of those individuals that is extremely reflective--her brain probably never shuts up. She's quite self-obsessed, but I realized that her self-obsession is what gives her the ability to do what she does, and being so has helped her change history. I watched her move, I watched her hands, her mouth...she's got the same mannerisms she had when we first met. The only thing that's different is her energy. It doesn't have that crack-like, non-stop electricity. It's still there, but just comes through in waves. It's been 15 years tho--who doesn't slow down a little in that time?

Listening to her made me realize the impact she had on my development as a woman. I was reminded of the strength she embedded in me at nineteen....how her poetry pulled me into a new world of self-definition and understanding. I didn't have to be a pretty little girl who would marry someone from my hometown and start popping out babies at 23. That's what most women around me did, but I knew I wanted something more. She made me realize I could be more, because she was more.

She's a go-getter. She started following her dream at 14 and has created her own empire based upon the work she started as a teenager. How many people have that kind of follow through these days? It reminds me of the immigrants who came over at the turn of the last century--"we had nothing but a dream and we worked and worked and worked until that dream became a reality." And the reality that she has built is beautiful. It's complex. It probably has a few loop holes. But the foundation and core of her working reality is an undeniable balance to an industry that has sold women out on surface appeal. And this balanced work has longevity. I stood beside sweaty teenagers last night, college girls who (in unison forgot to wear deodorant) have just discovered her. I watched how the girls watched her and felt like I was peering into a mirror image of me at 19. I watched them stare at her, yearn to be her, fantasize of being in bed with her, yearn to make their mark like her. She is crossing over into a new generation. I witnessed this and was in awe.

Like she has so many, many times, she spoke to me last night. She gently reminded me that the world is a damn beautiful place, and even the shitty, ugliness of people can be a beautiful thing. She helped me fall back in love with my life, back in love with the complexity of what it means to love, back in love with understanding the nature of people and the personal strings we let them pull.

Ani DiFranco. I may not connect to her the way I did years ago, but I can tap into the history of that connection in an instant while in her presence. I am a loyal fan. Somehow, though we have never truly met, I believe in and love her like a loyal friend.

where there is loss, there is gain

2010-02-23T12:27:00.000-08:00

I had a very inspiring conversation around midnight last night. Normally, my body and brain would be exhausted and ready to shut down and be asleep by ten, but lately I'm compelled to stay awake, connecting with people dear to me, reading, and/or writing....things that I've come to realize are essential to my well being and growth. The conversation started off with honest, from-the-gut laughter which erupted simply by the greeting we gave to one another. I could have had the worst day of my life and the first 3 minutes of the conversation would have saved it from being so. But it was what came in the next hour of the conversation that really got my wheels turning.

We talked about our days, we talked about dating, we talked about music, book ideas, website ideas, yoga, healing, our breakups. And almost simultaneously, we had a striking realization. What dawned on us was this: the loss of something dear to us is what brought us together...as if the universe itself said, "I'm taking something away from you, but I'm giving you this...and you will find that only through such a loss will you realize how much more you needed and how much more you have gained." The funny thing about this realization is that it had been building in both of us for days and suddenly the magic of a deeply rooted conversation opened our eyes to the gifts we have been given. We are redefining ourselves, we are reconnecting with the strength and dreams within us, we are rediscovering the power of female bonding and friendship, and we are building hope in ourselves and in each other. Who would have thought that an experience of loss would open the flood gates to such gain?

A year ago, this midnight conversation would never have been possible for me and it's these conversations, these human connections, these intimate moments of honesty and sharing that are my life force--they are my fuel as an artist, my fuel as a passionate individual, my fuel as a friend, lover, daughter, sister, Aunt, singer, teacher, dancer, risk-taker, runner, traveler, dreamer....and all the many, many other things I am and/or want to be.

The universe has so much to offer me. I am on a quest to keep all my doors open to the gifts it brings, be it through loss, be it through pain...there is much to be gained.

New Camera!

2010-02-22T10:36:00.001-08:00

Im a little geeked up about my latest gift. I have been researching cameras for quite a while now and finally took the leap. I had considered a number of different cameras-Nikon, Sony, Casio, Olympus. I even considered DSLR's in these brands. But when it came down to it, I really prefer the ease of a little camera that I can carry in my back pocket. So, after much deliberation and a spontaneous AND lovely sale of the week at Target, I now own a Canon Power Shot SD780 IS Digital Elph. I almost went with the higher model, but the size and feel of this baby in my hand was love at first feel. She's smooth, compact, and I'm digging all her options. The pics above are little sampling of our first dates!

strong enough, sheryl crow

2010-02-21T19:32:00.000-08:00

"you can't change the way i am. are you strong enough to be my man?"

Times Like These, Foo Fighters

2010-02-20T14:48:00.000-08:00

"I am a new day rising
I'm a brand new sky
To hang the stars upon tonight
I am a little divided
Do I stay or run away
And leave it all behind?

It's times like these you learn to live again
It's times like these you give and give again
It's times like these you learn to love again
It's times like these time and time again"

ashes, forehead, hands, hope

2010-02-17T20:58:00.001-08:00

I sat with my father tonight and showed him photos from his wedding that he hasn't seen in over 50 years. I brought my laptop to the nursing home and placed it in front of him and said I had a surprise for him. He was a bit baffled by my mac and rambled with questions about how much something like this costs and how often do I use it and what do I use it for. I knew modern technology was impressive, but I knew what was about to unfold was far more impressive. I turned off the tv, slid my chair beside him, and popped open the screen. There before him was a striking photo of my mother staring at herself in a mirror--beautiful red hair, porcelain pale skin, gorgeous white wedding dress.

I asked, "do you remember this woman? Do you remember this day?"

All I can say is that the smile that took over his face took over my heart. I saw the "in love" glow that radiated in his face in those photos from 54 years ago. He gazed at the screen, at my mother, at the woman whom he affectionately *calls to this day* his BW: beautiful wife.

"I know her and I do remember this day."

I could honestly go on for hours about how beautiful this interaction was with him...but it was the observations that I made of him and he made of the photos that are most noteworthy. I showed him how to use the arrow key to move on to the next picture, and I watched his finger rest for minutes on the key before he pressed and moved from photo to photo. As he took in each photograph, it was as though he was taking in the moment itself.

"Maura, half of the people in these photos are dead...your mother is the most beautiful woman I know...look at my father, and my mother and my brothers...I had hair back then...look at your Aunt as a platinum blonde...only my one brother and I are left....I won't be around much longer, Maura...God bless you for showing me these..."

I am in awe of the love my father feels for my mother. After all that they have been through, his eyes have only seen her, his lips have only known her lips, his heart has only loved her. Nothing got in the way of that love but some hard bumps of life and when those smoothed out, they found how to love each other in the most pure, honest way possible. 56 years of loving the same person, without fail.

My father gave me hope this evening...hope that if I can see a love this deep, I may also experience it someday within my own heart.

After I packed up my mac, I kissed his forehead and almost smudged the ashes that mark his faith. He grabbed my hand. He didn't say anything, nor did I. But I could feel everything in his hand.

Hope is a damn powerful thing.

Rumi

2010-02-16T20:00:00.000-08:00

How I love reading you before I fall asleep. You center me and ease me into dreams of flight and peace. Thank you, Rumi. Centuries have passed since you wrote down these words...did you ever imagine healing a 21st century woman as she drifts into her dreams?

“Oh soul,
you worry too much.
You have seen your own strength.
You have seen your own beauty.
You have seen your golden wings.
Of anything less,
why do you worry?
You are in truth
the soul, of the soul, of the soul.”

*and for the patient lover in me*:

"The way you make love is the way
God will be with you."

I Redefine you, Valentine!

2010-02-14T07:26:00.000-08:00

I woke up this morning truly excited about it being Valentine's Day, which is a bit peculiar considering I'm single and freshly burned from love. But when it comes down to it, LOVE is so much bigger than a "single special someone" and I've not only learned to recognize that today, but to recognize and celebrate it more often than ever as of late.

So I'm going to make this a platform for all the Valentines I hold dear to my heart. If I was in second grade, I would drop a cute little CareBear card into your Valentine shoebox, all decked out with hearts and candy and love graffati!

Happy Valentine's Day Mama: You are my favorite Valentine, mostly because you are the most amazing woman I know and you were born on Valentine's Day! You have taught me unconditional love and I aspire to relate to others the way you do, reaching out only with love, regardless of the situation.

Happy Valentine's Day Papa: I feel your love more than ever now, and almost losing you made us all realize how deep our love for you goes. Thank you for all the plays you took me to and all the traveling adventures we took-they taught me the art of living and the art of loving.

Happy Valentine's Day Sisters: You are my female blood buddies and I have a hunch one of you may save my life in the next few years. Each one of you has taught me what it means to love my body, love my spirit, and love family in a purely giving fashion. You come to my shows more than anyone and that means the world to me.

Happy Valentine's Day Brothers: You teased me, broke me, beat me, and yelled a lot at me. And now you hold me in your home, hold me in conversations, and hold me at my most weakest moments. You have taught me what it means to provide for the ones we love and the importance of balance in doing so.

Happy Valentine's Day Nieces and Nephews: You are my life force. In so many ways, you are the babies I never had. I have fed you, changed you, sang you to sleep, teased you, played dress up with you, made forts with you, driven up mountains with you, watched you blossom into young adults, into parents, into amazing people living life to the fullest. You teach me about how deep love runs for someone when it starts from their first day of life.

Happy Valentine's Day Old Friends: My golden girls! I love that weeks and months go by, yet when we get together we can giggle and gab like we are back in fifth grade. I have turned out so different from all of you, yet I feel so rooted in your company. Thank you for loving me through all my changes and believing in me through all the ups and downs.

Happy Valentine's Day My Dearest Lauren: You are the queen bee of my honey comb. I am grateful for how you helped me discover who I truly am and how you continue to get me unlike any human being I know. Thank you for the music, the movies, the books, the poetry, the conversations--everything you share with me makes me a better human being.

Happy Valentine's Day Daily New&Old Friends: *Kate, Alec, Heidi, Staci, Stephanie, Mikki, Laura, Angelisa, Robyn, Kristine, Arndt, Mike, Bob, Christina, Courtney, Hillary, Jimmy, Jeff* You are my daily laughter, my daily insights, my daily inspiration, my daily dinner dates, my daily phone calls that last an hour, my daily hugs, my daily crush when I need to crush, my daily source of support when I'm feeling my world tumble, my daily bridge to making my dreams come true. Thank you for listening, for keeping my faith alive, for helping me to believe more in my dreams, for drinking wine with me and not taking advantage of me even though you easily could!

Happy Valentine's Day Ex's: I learned a lot about love and myself from you. You have a place on my list, cause you have a place in my heart.

Happy Valentine's Day Fans: A new Valentine for sure. But last night I realized, without you, my dream wouldn't really get that far.

And this is why Valentine's Day is so flipping exciting! I have a lot of love to celebrate! AMEN!

Tom Robbins is Genius

2010-02-12T06:40:00.000-08:00

“When we're incomplete, we're always searching for somebody to complete us. When, after a few years or a few months of a relationship, we find that we're still unfulfilled, we blame our partners and take up with somebody more promising. This can go on and on--series polygamy--until we admit that while a partner can add sweet dimensions to our lives, we, each of us, are responsible for our own fulfillment. Nobody else can provide it for us, and to believe otherwise is to delude ourselves dangerously and to program for eventual failure every relationship we enter.” -Tom Robbins from Still Life with Woodpecker

in the eye

2010-01-29T07:39:00.000-08:00

my heart is nestled

in the eye of this hurricane.

(it feels like outer space.

no sound, no gravity, no traffic, no texts.

a vacuum from disaster.)

steady beats and clarity glow

against a messy horizon you sketched

with your confused pen.

yellow tape, orange cones frame a home.

it was ours, wasn’t it?

you know my love is a patient bug.

(caterpillars move slow

before becoming butterflies.)

we made music in the living room,

the kitchen,

the bed.

even the lawn got landscaped.

did you really give up on our cup of coffee?

are you just out for tea with a good friend?

when you return

(because you really should)

you can find me in the tool shed.

where is the hammer?

where are the nails?

where are my glasses, dear?

where are the pieces that make sense?

a tool belt hangs on my waist

just below my calm heart.

For Lauren. Thank YOU!

2009-10-28T04:39:00.000-07:00

Come Inside and See What I Hide.

1.) I find that I am unusually attracted to gay men. Not like a fag hag. I just love the vibe some gay men give off. It gives me butterflies.

2.) If I ever came across Danny, I would let him know that I should have pressed charges.

3.) I once ran away from home as a child by hiding in the hatchback of my sister's car. It was the perfect plan, until they got into the car and spent hours looking for me. I had to sit and endure their panic because I was too guilty to let them know I was safely hiding in the back.

4.) I once did Ecstasy. And L-O-V-E-D it.

5.) My family nicknamed me "Humper" as a child.

6.) My father took me to see Alfred Hitchcock's "Psycho" when I was six. I was angry with him because I knew it was not a movie I could handle. I made him take me out of the theater, out of the lobby, and into daylight where I scolded him for making a poor parental choice.

7.) I have recently craved meat and feel very confused about this.

8.) My best friends and I (5-7th grade era) had a "make out" shed that we would bring boys to and practice making out. We would spin a boy around, have him toss a bean bag into a basket, and whoever's basket got lucky, would get lucky.

9.) I have fantasies of chasing a tornado. I also have reoccurring nightmares of saving loved ones and friends from tornadoes.

10.) I feel guilty about making bad choices in my dreams, even though they are just dreams.

A good poke!

2009-07-30T07:09:00.000-07:00

This is too good to miss.
For those of us addicted to facebook, we must eat this delicious treat for breakfast!

Click here for revenge.

I like Ingrid.

2009-07-21T08:11:00.000-07:00

This is one of the most fantastic songs of my moment today--Ingrid Michaelson, you are so good!

Giving Up

What if we stop having a ball?
What if the paint chips from the wall?
What if there's always cups in the sink?
What if I'm not what you think I am?

What if I fall further than you?
What if you dream of somebody new?
What if I never let you win, chase you with a rolling pin?
Well what if I do?

I am giving up on making passes and
I am giving up on half empty glasses and
I am giving up on greener grasses
I am giving up

What if our baby comes home after nine?
What it your eyes close before mine?
What if you lose yourself sometimes? Then I'll be the one to find you
Safe in my heart

I am giving up on making passes and
I am giving up on half empty glasses and
I am giving up on greener grasses
I am giving up

I am giving up
I am giving up
I am giving up on greener grasses

I am giving up for you
I am giving up for you
I am giving up

oh, housewife.

2009-07-16T05:31:00.000-07:00

So I'm on summer break. It is the biggest bonus after battling an extremely stressful school year. And I am enjoying the freedom of sleeping in past seven, eating in peace, reconnecting with friends and family. And furthering my music, which was my goal was throughout the year. Recording is almost done. I have a title for the cd. I have a design concept for it too. And I have a mini NYC trip in the works to help get exposure outside of Cleveland. These are all good things. And yet, I feel overwhelmed by the lack of structure. I wake up and go, "what the hell am I going to do with my day?" Perhaps the number of options is what overwhelms me?

I wake up, and before I have the inclination to work on getting things done with my art or my body (I should be going to the gym right NOW) I sit and overwhelm myself with all the things that I should be doing around the house. The attic, the basement, the closet, the kitchen. I feel like a trapped housewife. And the horrible reality of it is: I'm trapping myself. How ridiculous am I?

I think at my core, I crave productivity. I am not fond of being lazy. When there are things around me that need to be done, I feel the responsibility to do them. ALL of them. But it gets messy when I feel compelled to do housework over doing the things that I truly should be doing with my free time. I have an internal voice that is saying, "you only have so much time on this earth...how are you making your mark?" I don't want to say I left my mark by cleaning. I'm not tied down with work, I'm not tied down with kids. Why am I tying myself down with cleaning? I've had an itch to do something a little bigger. And I've had this itch for as long as I can remember. I remember it amplified by Shakespeare in 12th grade. Shakespeare's Sonnet 55 opening lines hit me head/heart on:

"Not marble, nor the guilded monuments
of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme;"

Not necessarily his most famous phrase, but it stuck with me because it highlights the longevity of good art. If someone produces something worthwhile, it has the potential to live longer than stone, longer than metal, longer that his/her time on good ol' earth. I doubt Shakespeare woke up thinking about what he had to do around the house. He woke up thinking about what he had to create.

I'm going to the gym. Housework will get done.

And I will work on making my mark. After the gym, of course!

why i LOVE movies

2009-07-15T07:13:00.000-07:00

Jme and I went to go see "500 Days of Summer" last night. I was lucky enough to get a Marquee card for my birthday and having one has many bonuses--one of which is a **free** two ticket pass to premiers. We were almost late, by our own fantastic doing, but luckily (for Jme especially, cause I freak out at being late to movies) we made it just in time to sit in the kinkyourneck 3rd row of the theater.

The movie is delightful. It's honest. It's funny. It's heartbreaking. It has a kick ass soundtrack that will certainly be purchased ASAP. Bottom line is, it's one of those movies that makes you feel in love with life again. It opens up your senses to the idiosyncrasies of being human, of being in love, of relationships working and not working.

During the film I felt moved by one of the scenes and I turned, beaming at Jme. She replied, "I know you. I know what you're doing. But I'm not Zoey DeChanel. I'm not Summer. I'm Jamie."

And she's right. She's not Zoey. OR the character Zoey plays in the film. But when I woke up and thought about it, that's not what made me spin inside. What made me spin inside is this:

Movies, as fiction as they are, hold up a momentary mirror for us. They reflect our beauty and our grotesque. Just like in books, we search for connection with the characters, with the situations, with the themes.

Watching that movie last night I was moved and it wasn't because I was seeing Jme in Zoey/Summer or Zoey/Summer in Jme, but because I was seeing the life, the falling in love, the superpowers relationships have on human beings and I was connecting to it. Understanding and embracing it because it felt so honest to me. And honesty moves me.

Honesty in film, in music, in art is a drug for me. It makes my heart race, it makes my blood pump with more power, it gives me goose bumps. It opens me up to living again in a way that I may not have been open prior.

500 Days of Summer reminded me of how truly fantastic movies are and how truly fantastic it is to dig someone.

And as Jme pointed out, regardless of whether it works out or not, the experience is bloody great. You spin, whether it's upward or downward, it is spinning nonetheless. And movement is so much better than stagnancy.

2009-07-02T07:19:00.000-07:00

I think I have a fairly controlled fear of heights. But it's a fear nonetheless. And sometimes it feels a little more intense than normal. I think when it comes to me, I can manage the fear. But when it comes to others being in high places, it seems to truly get the best of me. For instance, it kicks in full gear when I see toddlers inching near a set of stairs. I see horrible things in my head when they get too close to the edge (this may be because I fully launched myself, in walker, down a set of stairs as a toddler and experience flashbacks of other babies doing the same). Anyway, it's a knee-jerk gut reaction and it sets my anxiety spinning.

So when I came across this five year old hanging out on this, I felt my stomach drop and I wanted scream.

I'm just saying: I will never, ever ever ever ever want a glass balcony.

It would be the death of me.

bull semen

2009-06-25T06:26:00.000-07:00

So upon my internet research for conditioning products that help curly hair like mine, I've come across a plethora of possible treatments that may tame my frizz. There are the traditional pricey conditioners by the fancy hair companies, the not-so-traditional remedies (vinegar, avacado, beer) that you can create at home.

And then there is bull semen.

Bull semen for hair.

After reading this article and talking with my hair stylist, I found myself buzzing with curiosity.

1. Who in god's name came up with the notion of using bull semen for hair?

2. How did they come up with the notion of using bull semen for hair? (Was it by accident, like they were cleaning out the barn, a bull got excited and exploded over someone's dry, frizzy head and suddenly, "Wow, my hair feels so soft. I'm going to make a million with bull semen.")

3. How do they go about getting the semen and who would actually want that job?

4. Isn't semen too acidic for hair?

5. If bull semen is good for hair, does that mean all semen is good for hair?

6. Does anyone feels this walks a thin line of beastiality?

7. Who would actually go into a salon and ask, "I'd like a hair cut, color, and bull semen treatment please?"

Imagine a commercial:

Lady One: Your hair looks fantastic! What's your secret????

Lady Two: (shaking her long locks in the wind) Bull semen.

Live Music

2009-06-24T06:16:00.001-07:00

Last night I was reminded of how good it feels to experience live music. There is something spiritiual about watching/hearing talented musicians connect to their music in front of you. It moves me, the way a good wine or good sex moves me. I feel lighter in my body somehow...as though the music thins my blood and lifts my heels off the floor.

I think people need to get out more and experience live music. It's going on every night, even in poor, depressed cities like Cleveland.

Being in the presence of good live music reminds me of what it felt like to be in church--people/strangers connected to something bigger than themselves for a moment in time.

Patience

2009-06-10T05:50:00.000-07:00

"The key to everything is patience. You get the chicken by hatching the egg, not by smashing it."
-Arnold H. Glasgow

I find that as a redhead, I do not respond well to demands. If someone demands something of me, the demand often destroys it before I have the openness to share it.

Perhaps it's because my mother has the patience of Buddha. She set a standard higher than most humans are capable of reaching. Now I often find myself disappointed with people (TEENAGERS) who function on instant gratification.

Damn it Ma, why did you have to be so brilliant!

Favorite Walt Whitman

2009-06-03T10:36:00.000-07:00

Quotes are so sexy to me. They are short, simple, and punch perfect.

I came across a quote by Walt Whitman today and it has inspired me to share a few of my favorite WW.

Enjoy! Hope one rings true for your ears!

"And your very flesh shall be a poem."

"I am as bad as the worst, but, thank God, I am as good as the best."

"I have learned that to be with those I like is enough."

"If anything is sacred, the human body is sacred."

"Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself. I am large, I contain multitudes."

"Re-examine all you have been told...dismiss that which insults your soul."

"Be curious, not judgemental."

"If you've done it, it ain't bragging."

"Oh while I live, to be the ruler of life, not a slave, to meet life as a powerful conqueror, and nothing exterior to me will ever take command of me."

change.

2009-04-30T08:35:00.000-07:00

"The key to change...is to let go of fear."
--Roseanne Cash

In a conversation I had with my mother last week, she expressed that she felt a change was coming for me. I wasn't quite sure what to make of the comment, but I trust it because of its source. I also trust it because I have felt something stirring within me, though I can't quite pinpoint what it is or how my life will be affected by it.

It's funny how there are specific times in our lives when we feel as though we are on the edge of something. When we feel the energy of forces beyond our body, pushing/guiding/channeling us. This "a change is coming" feeling is truly mysterious when it is, in fact, followed by something life-affirming/centering/changing.

So I'm raising my hands up and letting go of any fears that may keep my little spirit from growing the way it needs to grow.

Grow Maura, G R O W.

little british boys

2009-04-22T14:04:00.000-07:00

This week I find that I am being moved quite a bit by the talents of young british boys.

I just watched this and the little lad had my heart bubbling with joy.

must see

2009-04-21T13:15:00.000-07:00

Last night Jme and I watched a movie that lovely landed in my top ten favorite films.

It ignited my youthful spirit unlike any film I've seen in years.

Creative, honest, fun. Perfectly accessibile to both heart and mind.

Go rent.

Son of Rambow

Now. Go find it. Go! Go! GO!

I promise, you will fall in love <3 with it.

(and if you don't fall in love with it, there is something wrong with you.)

fishing for good love poems

2009-04-20T10:13:00.000-07:00

I'm on a mission to examine good love poems and I have always been a captivated geek of Adreienne Rich's poetry. This particular poem makes my toes curl.

Adrienne Rich
from Twenty-One Love Poems

I
Wherever in this city, screens flicker
with pornography, with science-fiction vampires,
victimized hirelings bending to the lash,
we also have to walk . . . if simply as we walk
through the rainsoaked garbage, the tabloid cruelties
of our own neighborhoods.
We need to grasp our lives inseperable
from those rancid dreams, that blurt of metal, those disgraces,
and the red begonia perilously flashing
from a tenement sill six stories high,
or the long-legged young girls playing ball
in the junior highschool playground.
No one has imagined us. We want to live like trees,
sycamores blazing through the sulfuric air,
dappled with scars, still exuberantly budding,
our animal passion rooted in the city.

II
I wake up in your bed. I know I have been dreaming.
Much earlier, the alarm broke us from each other,
you've been at your desk for hours. I know what I dreamed:
our friend the poet comes into my room
where I've been writing for days,
drafts, carbons, poems are scattered everywhere,
and I want to show her one poem
which is the poem of my life. But I hesitate,
and wake. You've kissed my hair
to wake me. I dreamed you were a poem,
I say, a poem I wanted to show someone . . .
and I laugh and fall dreaming again
of the desire to show you to everyone I love,
to move openly together
in the pull of gravity, which is not simple,
which carried the feathered grass a long way down the upbreathing air.

III
Since we're not young, weeks have to do time
for years of missing each other. Yet only this odd warp
in time tells me we're not young.
Did I ever walk the morning streets at twenty,
my limbs streaming with a purer joy?
did I lean from any window over the city
listening for the future
as I listened here with nerves tuned for your ring?
And you, you move toward me with the same tempo.
Your eyes are everlasting, the green spark
of the blue-eyed grass of early summer,
the green-blue wild cress washed by the spring.
At twenty, yes: we thought we'd live forever.
At forty-five, I want to know even our limits.
I touch you knowing we weren't born tomorrow,
and somehow, each of us will help the other live,
and somewhere, each of us must help the other die.

"empty" with Ray

2009-04-10T08:42:00.000-07:00

I love Ray LaMontagne.

There's truly something magical about listening to him sing.

I feel like his soul is whispering into my ear.

Yowza!

april fools

2009-04-01T12:46:00.000-07:00

April 1st
A perfect day to risk hitting on a Baptist baby.
I was a Catholic.
You were a girl
and so was I.

There was a spin of the bottle the week before.
Spinning…spinnin’…spin…stop. You.
Lips.
We felt the difference.
(The difference was we would go on spinning like that bottle.
Eight Aprils.
Almost.
You spent one or two away, but I kept tap dancing on your tongue.)

Our first date was a double date.
You brought a boy.
I brought a boy.
You and I went home together,
no pity for the fools who fell for us.

We were the fools,
fickle and fabulous non-fiction.

So April drops in again today,
joking over silenced memories and some two thousand miles.

the ocean and the moon

2009-03-30T08:41:00.002-07:00

the ocean and the moon

The ocean whispered to the moon,
"I know you.
You are always with me.
When I don't see you,
I feel your pull.
This is how I know you.
As long as there is gravity, I will never unknow you."

lucky

2009-03-30T06:37:00.000-07:00

I am so lucky to know the people I know in my life.

I am lucky to have them because they challenge me to become a better person.

I am lucky for their love, because it embraces me whole. Flaws and all.

I am lucky because I continue to learn through them. They teach me daily (hourly when my soul is open for the lesson.)

I am lucky because when I need it most, I am able to feel their spirits radiate onto mine.

I am lucky because I am in love, and that love continues to grow. When it seems like it couldn't possibly get any bigger, BOOM! It expands beyond what it was before.

Growing in love with someone is perhaps the most amazing life experience ever.

Hope.

2009-03-26T08:31:00.001-07:00

There are moments that hit me unexpectedly in the classroom.

These moments are shocking. There is the shock that is welcomed, and then there is the shock I prefer to avoid altogether.

What kind of shock do I mean, you ask inquisitively?

Oh, just that kind of shock that comes from having a gun in the classroom. And the shock from having another gun, on a different day, in the same classroom. And the shock that comes from a swat team barging in, pointing 14 loaded guns in response to said gun being in the classroom.

S-H-O-C-K.

This kind of shock is not invited to my tea party. And when it rudely interupts my day, it it is genuinely hard to recover.

But today I felt a different kind of shock. It unfolded slowly and methodically. It knocked gently on my door and wiped its wet feet on the rug. And it restored hope in my heart.

We are currently reading a book called, "We Beat the Streets" in our classroom. It's about three inner-city kids who make a pact to overcome the challenges of poverty, violence, and apathy and become doctors. My students are in love with it.

Today I witnessed that love unfold in front of me. I watched Dawayne eagerly turn the pages of the book. His nose was pasted to the page. This is a kid who rarely does anything but sleep and drool through the day.

My initial reponse was this, "Dawayne, please put down the book and take part in the discussion with us."

His head, in perfect opposition defiance, did not move from the page.

And then it dawned on me. He's READING! He's actually so engaged in the story that he can't put the book down. What the hell I am trying to accomplish here? How can I care about not following directions when I'm witnessing a mind being independently engaged in literature?

I was in shock, but I embraced it with open arms.

Let him read.

Sometimes it is important for me to pause and recognize what I ask of my students and whether it is ultimately the best thing for them.

Knowing when to bend so others may grow is a delicate lesson for all involved.

"stuffed up"

2009-02-26T07:39:00.000-08:00

My dear, dear, dear friend Kate suggested a book to me a few months ago and yesterday I was determined to find it. For some reason, probably my aging mind, the title had drifted from memory. I text her on a whim and asked her for the title.

"The Artist's Way."

I felt a rush of life through my bones. It's been a while since I have felt connected to my artistic self. Not to say that I have not been active as an artist, because I feel as though I have. I have been creative and I have been taking time to write and perform. I've felt the buzz of lyric and melody on my tongue and in my head, so much so that words and melodies are once again arriving at the same time. It's a bit of a spiritual moment when it occurs--where I feel as though something bigger than me is traveling through me and taking shape in the form of song. It is good. It is powerful. I feel very fortunate when it unfolds like so. But it's becoming more rare in the last two years and by admitting this, I'm hoping I am taking a step in the right direction.

I think it comes down to the fact that I don't feel as though I have connected or nurtured the full artist within me. I have been so wrapped up with life and doing things that I have lost touch with just allowing myself to be. I don't feel as though I'm being as "alive" as I should be.

Ahhh...this is kind of complex.

See...being alive means being aware...being open. Being open, being aware, being connected to everything around me. Open, aware and connected to what day of the week it is. Open, aware and connected to the words and the feelings of all those around me. Open, aware and connected to the life, the mysteries, the beauty that unfolds around me. I recall a moment I had a while back where I felt so rooted in my life that I had full trust in myself. I trusted I was exactly where I was meant to be, doing exactly what I was meant to be doing, and going in the direction I trusted I should be going. While in this place, the feeling of being alive flooded me. Flooded me in the way that when I felt sunshine hit my face, I was so aware of the warmth it had on my skin and in my bones that the moment felt like a vibrant jolt of electricity rushing through me so much so that I wept over the simple notion of existing. It was a moment and it occurred because of how open I was to it taking place. I remember knowing that I was open to the world around me, I was mindful of it, and I was in love with it. I remember driving down the street and thinking about lyrics I had just wrote about a blind man walking three shepherds...and I was thinking of these very specific lyrics, I drove past a man walking three german shepherds holding a red-tipped, white stick.

I felt connected. I felt open. I felt aware. I trusted who I was, where I was, and where I was going.

I think in order to nurture the artist within, I must trust the artist within me. I must honor and value being open to the world around me. I crave it. I need it. My survival depends on it.

After Kate text me the title of the book she called.

After we gleefully responded to each other's voice, I thought she said, "I'm stuffed up again."

I responded about how everyone seems to be "stuffed up" these days...how it must be the season, how it must be something in the air.

Kate said, "or something in the water."

I quickly responded that I really don't think the water is affecting people's sinuses.

She cut me off, "did you hear what I said?"

I hadn't.

I wasn't being open. I wasn't aware. I wasn't connecting.

It hit me.

Kate wasn't stuffed up. I was. And I'll be damned if I continue to be.

Open up. Be aware. Connect.

And trust. Trust. Trust.

"i just want to feel today, feel today, feel today...I just want to feel something today."
--Ingrid Michaelson

a day of love.

2009-02-14T05:54:00.000-08:00

Happy Valentine's Day.

Seventy-six years ago my mother was born, and if you know her, you understand why it is so fitting that my mother was born on a day that celebrates LOVE.

I think, rather I know, she has the biggest, most kind, most loving, most unconditional heart around. I have said in the past that I have Gandhi for a parent--most people would agree that that's not much of an exaggeration.

She has given birth to 11 children, raised us, helped to raise at least 10 of her 37 grandchildren, and on top of that, she took in and cared for both of her aging parents when they were too weak to do so themselves. AND, on top of that, she helped deliver thousands of healthy babies through the organization she founded 33 years ago. (www.womankindcleveland.com) I should mention that during the years when medicine was about the patient and not the insurance company, she even took and cared for battered pregnant women in our home.

If it sounds like I'm bragging,I am. She is a rare commodity in this world, and celebrating her on a blog is one small way to spread the good word on this good woman.

I met my mother (this is a love story, right?) 32 years ago. I was the last of 11 children, and they joke that I was named Maura because my Aunt came in and told her, "Alright Michele, NO MORA CHILDREN!"

There are so, so, so many stories of love that exist between my mother and I. Needless to say, it would be impossible to capture them all in a blog. From her undying support of my dreams from the time I was 8 and stepped on stage, to her commitment to be by my side through all my health hiccups and nightmares, to her unconditional acceptance of my sexuality despite the huge generational and religious gap...her love and dedication is an unyielding force that has helped me through some of the darkest, most unsettling times in my life.

As I find myself going through some rough patches these days, I think I have to take a moment and consider this woman in my life. She has raised me to have such high expectations of myself, to not settle for anything less than what I know is right in my heart, to give people the chance to grow, to love when it seems most difficult to love, and to forgive when it seems impossible to forgive.

She is my Saint, my Valentine of sorts, and I am so grateful that I know and can witness her human force in this world.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Happy Birthday, Mom.

fuck and run

2009-01-14T12:16:00.000-08:00

"And I can feel it in my bones
I'm gonna spend another year alone
It's fuck and run, fuck and run
Even when I was seventeen
Fuck and run, fuck and run
Even when I was twelve"
-Liz Phair

I realized last night in a conversation over a Delaney sandwich that I am (in ways I'm just beginning to understand) a runner.

In fact, I was nicknamed Nike by someone I "nike-eed" on before we even dated.

Yes. I run.

I'm not sure why this is. For the most part I see myself as a very committed, very passionate individual. I was in a relationship for almost 8 years with the same person, and didn't run...though I felt the urge many times to do so. In truth, I should have ran but hated the idea of "giving up."

The sad thing is that when I have ran and what I have ran from are often things and people that are extremely valuable to me.

Who Nike's on someone they haven't even met?

That's right...little ol' me.

I want to understand this.

I want to work on it.

I don't want to run.

I want to stick around.

drool (in a severe SBH classroom)

2009-01-06T12:42:00.000-08:00

I woke up my ninth grade student today after he had fallen asleep. I convinced myself that if I reached out to engage him, he would be thankful for having not missed a page of the story we just started. The odds were against me, as they always are with the population I work with. But I went in determined to make that difference.

When he lifted his head, he was shocked at the stretched saliva dangling from his mouth to his sleeve.

"What is that?" he asked.

"Drool, DaWayne."

"No. It's not. You're fucking with me," he stated definitively.

My cleanly OCD response was, "No. I don't fuck around when it comes to drool."

And with that, a tissue was given and the story continued.

DaWayne passed the quiz at the end of the class.

I am making a difference.
I am making a difference.
I am making a difference.

the 32nd year or the 33 year?

2009-01-05T14:08:00.000-08:00

The dogs are bouncing off the couches. I mean B O U N C I N G! They dash off the couch, to the floor, to the pillows, to the couch, to my lap, to the floor. Holy hell, why don't human beings get this excited about couches?

I may not be excited about couches, but I certainly feel excited about life right now. Wait, why not include being excited about couches? I am excited about this couch. I am excited that I have a couch. In fact, I have two couches. Double the couch, double the excitement. And the dogs like me enough to sit by my side while I'm feeling excited about feeling excited about this couch. And that makes me feel more excited.

Although dogs generally like everyone...

I am excited. I am excited because I'm writing. Ride my cliche-riding with me, won't you? Writing again is like getting on a bike after you haven't cycled in years. Your feet hit the pedals, your hands hit the handlebars, and the wind hits your face...fingers hit keys, words appear, and your face starts to glow. Hello words. Hello thoughts. Hello savoring life.

Yesterday I turned 32. Born Jan. 4th, 1977 at 7:14 p.m. And the weird thing is my oldest brother, who is 20 years my senior, was born on July 14th. So my mother gave birth to her first child on 7/14 and (20 years and 10 children later) gave birth to her last child at 7:14 p.m. I find this to be an exciting coincidence...at least one worth noting.

I am confused as to whether I am in my 32nd year of life or my 33rd year of life. If anyone can explain this concept of age and time, please do.

I was up last night making whoopie into the wee hours of the morning. I think that's the best way to begin 32. It's like you still feel like a teenager while you touch and talk and tickle the ins and outs of each other. And then you wake up after fours hours of sleep and don't feel quite 32. But it's worth it.

I will be a zombie for good lovin' any day. It's well worth the afternoon drag.

begin.

2009-01-02T09:26:00.000-08:00

Detox tea to the right of me. Peanut butter toast to the left. Smelly dogs by my toes.

And I am turning 32 in two days.

Which amounts to 32 candles. That is sixteen more than the sixteen Molly Ringwald had in 16 Candles. Oh to be sixteen again. My heart actually still skips like I'm 16 some days. Yes, my heart skips, my back cracks, and my butt...is as white as it was at 16. The sun just don't shine on some spots.

What will 32 be like? Does one year really make a difference in who we are?

The great thing about having a birthday 3 days after New Years is that you really become aware of time and the changes that you want/need to make in response to the marked change in time. It's a new year, so what am I going to do differently? And NOW, it's my birthday, so REALLY, what am I going to do differently?

So I present a list. Of things I want to change. Of things I want to do. Of things I want to do differently.

1. Change my job.
2. Find a new job that I believe in, that has good health benefits, and doesn't suck the life from me. (hopefully 2 comes before 1, to avoid stress.)
3. Say "yes" more often. (thank you jim carrey.)
4. Not think so much about people who could care less about me.
5. Raise a puppy. (baby steps to a baby.)
6. Work out. My heart and head need to be stimulated more in 2009.
7. Make more time to woo Jamie.
8. Pick up my guitar and trust that I am meant to do something with it.
9. Be more involved in my nieces' lives and infuse them with fearlessness and hope.
10. Tell my father.
11. Let go of my failing kidney and focus on what isn't failing in my body.
12. Get a new tattoo.
13. Travel more. Go to places on a whim, and let it fuel me with more awareness/awakeness.
14. Make the most out of the last 6 months at my job by knowing I am making a difference, regardless of the fact I don't see it.
15. Don't put a foot out the door when I'm scared.
16. Don't put an arm, a finger, or a toe out the door when I'm scared.
17. Eat less, more often instead of eating more, less often.
18. Drink more water.
19. Walk the dogs...even the chihuahua, who I struggle to recognize as a dog.
20. See my father more. See him at least 3 times a week. Because 3 times is not enough. Nor is 6 times. Nor is 7 times when he lives in a nursing home, after raising 9 children and over a dozen grandchildren.
21. Finish the plays I started years ago.
22. Do something with the plays after I finish them.
23. Finish the attic. Sooner than later. We need a space to be creative.
24. Propose.
25. Go to the dentist.
26. Find a new bass player.
27. Learn to play the ukulele.
28. Learn the play the harmonica.
29. Continue learning to play the guitar and piano.
30. Find a therapist that challenges more than pampers.
31. Record. Record. Record. Without fear.
32. Find God again...at least be more open to all that is bigger than me, again and again and again and again and again.