A good poke!

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.

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.

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

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.

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.