How to get around the rules again

Ever felt like your tip was tapped, your well gone dry or your brain just plain fell out of your head? Well, that's me. My brain just plain fell out of my head. I was walking along yesterday, singing a little song, when all of a sudden I felt so much lighter. Eerily lighter and with a slight, but noticeable headache. I thought nothing of it, actually I thought nothing at all, which is really unusual for me. i thought that maybe I should retrace my steps and see if I could figure out what happened and where things went wrong. As soon as I turned around I saw it. Right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, on top of Elizabeth Montgomery's star it sat. My brain. I couldn't help but notice that it actually IS grey, well, more like dirty off white, but when referring to the most important muscle in the body next to the heart, scientists don't sound very cool saying, "dirty off white matter". Not having a brain anymore I just stared at it, confused and not sure what to do with it. Luckily a kindly tourist saw my conundrum and helped me out. He squished it back in through my ear. We shook hands and went our separate ways. I never did get his name. I guess I'll just call him the "dirty off white matter angel".

While I'm waiting for todays post to upload...

New episode of "and so we vlog" and the world premiere video of Meg Toohey and Rachael Cantu's new song!!!! You can find it here and here or watch it down here...

A tribute to dorothy parker

I am waiting by the phone. I have called twice already, now it's his turn. I'm so excited I'm blowing up inside. I can't wait to tell him that I made a mistake and that I love him, no matter what, despite and because of who and what he is. Oh god! I love him so much. I can't stop thinking of the last time I saw him.

It was four days ago. We met for dinner at a local mexican restaurant. The mariachis played us a song, my favorite. Volver Volver, so appropriate and I didn't even know it at the time. 

Where is he? I told him on the phone from the office that I had something important to tell him. I know he has rehearsal, that can run late. I wonder if he's telling the guys that I called. I bet he is. I bet he knows. I bet he's celebrating. I bet he's just dying to finish so he can rush over here and hear the news. The suspense is terrible.

I know! He's waiting until he knows I will be asleep and he will use his key and slip in and whisper that he loves me too and he's so happy to be home. Tomorrow morning I will wake up and make us breakfast and coffee, just like nothing ever happened. We will spend the day running errands together and holding hands in the park. Wait, no, I hate the park. We will go to the record store and he will dig around and pick out Doc at the Radar Station on vinyl. he knows I've been searching and searching for it.

I can't stand it. Maybe I should try to sleep. Then at least I wouldn't be thinking about it. Yes, if I do that, before I know it he will be home, wrapped around me. I've brushed my teeth. My phone is charged, my ringer is set loud, right by the bed, just in case he lost his key and needs me to let him in.

I can't sleep, this is like waiting for santa claus. I must sleep. I will count sheep. 1...2...3...4...5............................

Oh wow, it's 4:30. I must have fallen asleep. He's not here. Drat! I bet he called and I was in such a deep sleep I didn't hear it. Oh no! I bet he thinks I blew him off. I would never do that, never! I feel terrible. Where's my phone? Crap, i knocked it off the night stand.

Weird. No missed calls. I hope he's okay. Sometimes he over does it with the booze and gets behind the wheel. Please let him be okay. Please don't let something have happened to him. I can't bear to think that he never knew how much I love him and how sorry I am. Maybe he just went out with the boys and lost track of time. I'm calling him.

Oh god. He's in a ditch somewhere, my worst nightmare has come true. But, maybe he's sleeping and didn't hear the phone. Maybe he passed out on the couch in the rehearsal space. He does that. Maybe I should go over there. Maybe I should call again. No, I can't call again, that would make me look crazy. I will give him ten minutes to call me back. But if he was sleeping then he may have been slightly roused by the ringing, enough that if I call again right away it will fully wake him up. He won't think I'm crazy. Four years together is enough that it is absolutely reasonable that I call again. Yes. Yes, I will call again.

It's ringing. and ringing. Come on! Wake up! Wake up! Wake... 

"I'm sorry if I woke you."

Is he at a party?

"I was just worried that you didn't come home and you never called."

Who is that in the background?

"Are you at jimmy's?"

"No? Where are you?"

Silence. Why is he so quiet all of a sudden?

"Hello?"

"Why aren't you here? Why didn't you call?"

More silence. No. oh no oh no oh no. Please don't say it.

"I'm sorry, I've..." No no no no no stop!

"...met someone else."

I can't breathe. I should say something here. I'm supposed to say something, anything. All I can hear is no no no no no. Oh my god. That's me. I am saying something. I have to stop. I have to have dignity. Stop crying. Stop it now.

Hang up the phone. I can't hang up the phone. This has to be a joke. A sick joke. Get it together and get off the phone! But I can't, if I get off the phone he will go back to her. He will never come home.

"You know. Earlier today when I called. I wanted to tell you that I made a mistake. I'm sorry, and I love you. You can come home now, it's okay."

"I know why you called. I could hear it in your voice. I'm so sorry. It's better this way. Go back to sleep I will call you tomorrow."

 Better this way? Better for who?! I feel sick. I can't breathe. I'm going to vomit. Hang up. Hang up.

Now what? He has to come over here. He has to come back. I should call back. I should keep calling until he agrees to come over here and talk to me. This is insane. I have to let him call me. He will call. I know he will.

Come on phone, ring. Ring damn it! It's ok, he's just giving me time to calm down. He will call in a minute and say he was drunk or high and he didn't know what he was saying. Wait, drunk or high? I don't want someone like that. Let her have him. I don't need him I'm better than that. I will be strong, I will show him what he's lost.

WHY AREN"T YOU RINGING???? Stupid phone. Maybe it's broken. Maybe I shouldn't have thrown it across the room. Maybe I should call him to see if he called and it didn't come through. 

No answer.

I should not call back. I should not. If you love something set it free and all that jazz. He's still not answering. I'm sure he will come to his senses tomorrow. I'm sure of it. Maybe he's breaking it off with her right now. Maybe I should call and apologize for yelling and acting crazy. Maybe he wants to come over but he's afraid I won't let him in. 

Yes, I'm sure that's it. I'm just going to call one more time so he knows it's okay. Just once more, I promise and then I will go to bed. Maybe I should give myself the option of two more times in case he doesn't hear his phone ring. Yes two more, just two more and then I will go to bed. Or maybe I shouldn't set limits on myself. This is love after all, right? Maybe just three more times....

Cheesy yes, but it had to be said...

Many of you have started your own blogs and posted videos and have opened your minds to writer's and writing styles you may not have been familiar with. I just want to say how happy that makes me. I have a friend who reads my blogs and from our conversation this morning she looks forward to your comments more than what I've actually written. Not only am I not mad at that, I'm stoked! (Yes, I said stoked and used an exclamation point, what?) I was thinking I should save this for the end of my thirty days, but what for? You should know that someone out there is reading and enjoying what you write, right now! (yes, another exclamation point, look for an explanation in the future.) Change happens when you open yourself up and march forward fearlessly. Let your voice be heard!!! (yep, there they are again.)

Remember the familiar essay?

Probably not. In short, familiar essays are somewhere between the personal and the critical essay. According to Anne Fadiman, in an interview from All Things Considered, the familiar essay is "autobiographical, but also about the world". She also says, in an interview on powells.com, that "one of its hallmarks of that it is about the author, so it is a subset of the personal essay, but it is also about a subject". Not that anyone's asked me, but this is my blog so you get my opinion, to me, the familiar essay is an essay that is indeed of a personal nature but is ultimately about something bigger and more relatable to everybody. I just read that last paragraph, can you say redundant?

You will notice about that I only quoted one person in regards to the familiar essay and I didn't mention Charles Lamb once, which is terribly remiss of me but there's a reason for it. I promise. That reason is that I think Anne Fadiman is a genius. Charles Lamb is long dead and if you don't have a literary head or a desire to slog through the muck of nineteenth century prose you probably won't get to much out of it. If, however you read Anne Fadiman's essay on Mr. Lamb you may well get as sucked in as I have been. Her writing can make even the most long dead person seem to appear in your living room and sit down for tea (don't worry, only in your imagination, not like a ghost) and exercises your brain by using words you've never even imagined. I truly fell in love with her when I had to run for the dictionary while reading her essay on ice cream. Yes, ice cream. I'm a sucker for a woman who requires a dictionary...

* You can get Anne Fadiman's books on powells.com or amazon. Or just do a search for her and read some of her interviews, they are fascinating and she is a delight. (I've never met her, but I imagine she is a delight from the interviews.)

The Tell Tale Cat (very rough first try, so rough it's not called a draft yet.)

Two girls were sitting in their apartment in Los Angeles California. It was the kind of day only Californians can truly appreciate. There was a screen of clouds covering the sun and the air was damp and cool. To celebrate the nice weather they made breakfast. While they were eating their breakfast one of the girls looked over at the screen with furrowed brows and squinting eyes. "You know, we should really get the screen fixed. One of the cats could get out." The other girl just shrugged and they continued eating.

While all of this was going on there was the incessant slicing and dicing of sheets of metal next door.

After breakfast, one girl did the dishes, while the other began the arduous task of organizing the bookshelf in the living room, where they had just had breakfast. The details of what happened next are sketchy due to the grinding next door. At some point the fluffy grey cat, that no one liked anyway, ripped open the screen and busted free. Remember when Wile E. Coyote would run through a wall and make a hole that was the outline of his body? Well, it looked like that. The girls looked at eachother, then at the screen, then back at eachother. "He wasn't happy here anyway." "No, you're right. But maybe he will come back." They kind of stared at eachother for a minute and went back to what they were doing. Little did they know that soon they would be living in their own, real life version of The Tell Tale Heart... TO BE CONTINUED.

masks

I can be a bit of a nervous ninny. I don't like flying, I don't like dark water, I'm scared of ghosts, but there is one thing that scares me most of all... MASKS. I hate them. Executioner's hoods make me want to cry but the worst of the worst of the scariest are mascaras. Seriously, which is weird because I love wrestling, all kinds. For those that don't know mascaras are the masks worn by Luchadores and for those of you who don't know what those are, google it. So, now that you know about my fear let me share one of my favorite books. Heres the cover...

Yup, scares the crap out of me, but it's an amazing book by an amazing writer. So amazing that even though I want to barf just looking at the cover I keep it out, readily available so I can pick it up and read it anytime I want, which happens to be rather frequently. It's a pretty easy read and it's a fascinating look into the world of luchadores. You can go to her website for more information. In fact, I recommend that you do so right now. Enter the world of Christa Faust, you won't regret it. On a side note, her blog is pretty entertaining so check that out too, while you're there.

** Click on the book and it will take you to amazon so you can get your very own copy, if you so desire...