photo by Michael J. B. Kelly
See http://www.photosofcapecod.com/

I’m having trouble sleeping
Which causes trouble waking
Why does the real me
Always feel like I’m faking?
Am I hiding from you
Or from me?

OK, so the early bus is full of people going to work. The 8:00 bus is full of people going to see…their pimp. Or their connection. Or their baby mama. I sound like a snob today, huh? Must be the Cameron Diaz earrings I am wearing…….Have a wonderful weekend, readers and random visitors. We’re approaching the last month of summer. Make the most of it!

I was watching Purple Rain last night. My other half loves that movie. I never watched it back in the day, so I have trouble watching it now because it looks so dated. It's funny how that is. I could watch St. Elmo's fire every day and even though I know it looks dated as all get out, it doesn't bug me because I watched it the first time when it was still current. But trying to watch Purple Rain or some other old movie that I didn't watch when it first came out is so hard for me to do. So anyway Prince is up on stage wailing and writhing away to Nikki or Nicki or however you spell it. He runs off stage and the club manager (I guess that's who it is) comes back and tells him that nobody digs his music but him. Made me think of my blog. What if nobody digs it but me????? Do you dig it, Constant Readers, do you????

Wow I was up on a high horse yesterday, wasn't I? It happens...

Have you heard about Gregory Despres crossing the border with an arsenal of weapsons, including a bloody chainsaw and brass knuckles? If you have not, please google his name and check it out. FOR THE LOVE...they need a paralegal up there on the border doing background checks on people....maybe I need to suggest that....

Since when do I care what people think of me?
Didn’t I fall on my face between home and first base in a work softball game for no apparent reason other than a combination of poor balance and coordination and get up and say, “So what? At least I’m here.”?
Didn’t I dance (badly and sometimes alone, but always joyfully) in front of more than one Floating Men crowd?
Didn’t I dress up like Janis Joplin and lip synch in front of the whole building in a Halloween contest?
Haven’t I always resisted being a label whore, and bought clothes and shoes and whatever else strikes my fancy at Wal-Mart and the like?
Don’t I have a blog where I ramble on about whatever suits me, opening me up to the criticism of millions of people all across the world? (So it’s really just the three of you, and the occasional visitor, but the possibility of millions is there, OK?)
So what’s with this public transportation stigma, and how did I allow myself to buy into it?
How could something as simple as riding the bus to work today feel so momentous? How can I even admit to that? (I’m sorry, Ms. Parks) But it did. And not just to me. So many people were curious, so many people had questions- like I had been to a strange land and returned with tales of a big blue monster with red cloth seats that whisked me away as I drank my French roast. I have taken trolleys in Chattanooga, MARTA or whatever it’s called in Atlanta, the subway in NYC, buses in San Antonio, Providence, and Mexico-all with no feelings of stigma. So why is it OK if I’m out of town, but here at home, if I’m being honest, I hoped no one saw me exit the bus? What’s wrong with the bus? I am sick of driving, sick of getting gas, sick of paying for it, sick of the miles adding up on my car, sick of bad, bad, bad, stupid, dangerous drivers who change lanes 16 times at 120 miles an hour-to end up one car ahead of me. Sick of it. I can’t wait for the train. I don’t want to carpool. I want to just ride. Why are we so shallow? Did I feel cool when I wore the Dolce & Gabanna sunglasses that S. lifted at a wedding reception and then left at my house? Sure. Do I like my knock off Kate Spade purse, and do I hope that people think it’s real? Sure. I’m human. I like to feel cool. I love my new earrings from a line of jewelry supposedly worn by Cameron Diaz and Lindsay Lohan, among others. But ya know what? I also love the silver hoops I have that my mom wore when she was 16. And the knockoff Keds from K-Mart that my grandma gave to me when she decided they squooshed her feet. And my green Wal-Mart raincoat. How many friendships and experiences have we missed because we are afraid of what other people might think? Am I guilty of it sometimes? Sure. But all you can do is try. So see you on the bus. I'll be the girl in the green raincoat.

Isaiah 43: 5-6
Fear not: for I am with thee: I will bring thy seed from the east, and gather thee from the west; I will say to the north, Give up; and to the south, Keep not back: bring my sons from far, and my daughters from the ends of the earth.
:)

http://you-might-as-well-live.blogspot.com/

For fun times go to this blog and scroll about half way down. Click on the David Hasselfhoff video--but mind your volume. K, this if for you, PAL, all for you....I hope you are reading this, because you are going to treasure this one forever.

If you have ever moved away from where you lived as a child, or from wherever it is you think of as home, and ever found yourself wondering years later if that was the right thing to do, looking back on the years and wondering what you had been looking for when you left, and more importantly, if you had managed to find it, then listen to Ryan Adams "Sweet Carolina". Love it, love it, love it, love him. I really want to go see him next week, but I'm having trouble finding an accomplice. May have to pull a "Mo Vaughn" and go solo. Will definitely have lots to say here if that happens. Stay tuned.

I see
I see
It was a sea
of lies.

It shimmered
and shined sometimes
but then
it died.

But could it die
if it never lived?
And how could it live?
How could it survive?

Every breath it took
it was sure to imbibe
a big ol' mouthful
of that
sea of lies.

Antique door knobs. Unfinished projects. Drug money laundering.. The Secret Service. Customs. Ginkgo biloba. Sarah Jessica Parker. Will & Grace. Niles and Frasier. Accents and dialects. Medium. The “other world.” Chaff & grain, baby. Chaff & grain. Here’s to Friday morning free associations. “Conference with V. about whatever pops into our head. (.5)”

sorry, had to post another. i can't help it. he's so...weird...i like weird.......

-AP photo

where i'm from

De donde eres and why do I care?
Steve Carell is from Massachusetts. Owen Wilson is from Austin, Texas. Johnny Depp is from Owensboro, Kentucky. Jeff Holmes is from South Carolina. Ryan Adams is from North Carolina-and I love when I hear it. Like when he says dance and it rhymes with paints. I like to know where people are from. I have to know where people are from. It is a compulsion. Yeah, yeah it's weird-NEWSFLASH I'M WEIRD- but harmless. Sometimes I can't focus on what a person is saying because I am trying to figure out where they are from. I like to guess, and I like to think I'm not too shabby. I can peg a Michigan accent a mile away. Wisconsin's pretty recognizable, and whoa Minnesota-could they accentuate vowels anymore? I am fascinated by accents. Who has them, who doesn't. How they change, lay dormant, and then suddenly -wham. Sandimous is from Connecticut. Is that right? OMG or is it Massachusetts? How could I not know? Anyway, most of the time she sounds like me, I think. Sometimes even worse ("You knooow Su-merna is really bee-ug" hahahahahaha I told on you) But sometimes when she's talking to her brother or someone else in her family, her accent is there. From nowhere. It's quite bizarre. I am amazed at tapes of myself at say, 10 years old. I sound like Ellie May Clampett. Really. And while I have not completely lost my southern twang, especially when I'm tired or mad, I definitely do not sound like Ellie May now. I remember my high school English teacher talking about how her daughter was in acting school and had been going to a dialect coach. My teacher was so excited to hear how she would sound. She imagined this beautiful, perfect accent. But she was a little dissapointed when she finally heard the result, because what she heard was an absolute lack of accent. Nothing identifiable. Completely stripped down. Bare. Naked. Boring. (And now for my first real name dropping on this blog, that is of a person with a connection (an admittedly weak connection) to me... that daughter was....Cherry Jones. (http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0427728/ ) Yeah yeah so that's the best connection I can make, my high school English teacher's daugher, well it's not exactly Hollywood here....give me a break. If you are nice maybe one day I will tell you about the day Reese Witherspoon stole my fame. As if I have not already told everyone I know at least 50 times. I need new stories.) So, go on, ask people where they are from. Try to guess. It's fun. If you're weird like me. (And you probably are if you are reading this. All two - or is it three now?- of you.)

I don't pretend to be captain weird. I just do what I do. I’m attracted to the extreme light and the extreme dark. I’m interested in the human condition and what makes people tick. I’m interested in the things people try to hide.
-Johnny Depp
(photo is from johnnydeppfan.com)

I am perched precariously
On a ledge
At the edge
of what you see.

I can't go back
I can't move forward
I'm just stuck here
with me.

So much is right
So little's wrong
It's hard to explain
you see.

Unless you've been out here
On a ledge
Perched precariously
like me.

This is me tonight.

Last night I had a dream that I was walking through the woods, and everywhere there were dogs that had rabies. I could see the rabies through their skin. Everyone around me kept saying these dogs aren't rabid, they are not foaming at the mouth. And I kept screaming, "Can't you see it? I can see it! They are rabid!" I was carrying my Lab in my arms to keep the rabid dogs from biting her. That's it. Then I woke up. When I went back to sleep I had a dream that I rescued a dog by giving it mouth to mouth. I used my handy dandy inflatable mouth guard that I got in CPR training. Weird, huh?

Overslept.
Failed a pregancy test. (Failed? Whatever.)
Overslept even later.
Left for work 10 minutes past the time I'm supposed to be there.
Realized I had no gas in car.
Got to work late.
Was annoyingly busy all day.
Worked late.
Got caught in bad traffic on the way home.
Failed pregnancy test # 2.
Had a fight.
Checked stupid blog.
What a stupid day..
The weather's nice, though.
And I have freedom. And liberty. Food, a house. A dog that worships me. Family that adores me. Friends that tolerate me. (ha) A good man. A really, really good man. A decent job. I'm relatively healthy. Financially comfortable. I have books to read, movies to watch, friends to call. (And laundry to do, carpets to clean, dishes to put away, bills to pay, a car that needs a look-see, trees to water, dogs to groom, exercise to do...)
All in all, not so bad.
Just keep saying that,
all in all
not
so
bad.

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In the beginning of a change the patriot is a scarce man, and brave, and hated and scorned. When his cause succeeds, the timid join him, for then it costs nothing to be a patriot.
- Mark Twain