thoughts randlomly dropped


Nostalgia… or why myspace is better than facebook

You know what I miss? Myspace.

I know.

Could I be any more stuck in the past?  It’s totally true though.  It’s the first place I realized I could be online without everyone I know in the day to day knowing what I was doing.  I could have 17 accounts, all under fake names (cool ones) and get up to all kinds of shenanigans if I wanted to.  FABULOUS!  I could write/rant about work (and did- often and with much swearing), people I knew, whatever nonsense came out of my head and the only folks who were aware of what I was up to were the ones I let in on the secret. 


It was like having my childhood pillow fort again. 


Naturally, I let people in.  But only the select few.  Facebook is ok.  I guess.  It doesn’t beg me to blog there -not that I would, tooooooo broad of a friend list for that and I’m just not ready to deal with all the possible fall out.  At some point I decided to delete my M/S account and move all the blogs here.  In hindsight I think that was a mistake, as I’ve lost contact with some very cool folks and didn’t really give much of a heads up that I’d be vanishing.  Kind of an asshat move, that.  Also, Fb doesn’t ask me to share what I’m listening to/reading/playing.  It’s kind of…. sterile-ish.  I mean, I know I can write ‘notes’, but that’s not the same somehow (and it is all about perception at this point, I’m totally aware of that).  Ah, well… the good ole days and all that.


Thinking of all the East Coast folks this evening and sending good vibes their way.  I visited the Outer Banks of North Carolina this Spring and the people and place were marvelous and kind.  When I asked one man about how he deals with hurricanes he was quite sanguine about the whole thing… kind of the way folks in my area get about tornadoes.  ‘Oh, well y’know, you take shelter when the sirens go off and come out when it’s all over’ was generally his attitude.  I hope he retreats to higher ground this time along with all the others and when it’s time to come home there’s little or no damage and life can return to normal with relative ease. 


Bear is working again tonight.  He gets next weekend off for the Holiday, though, plus a bonus day Sunday night!  3 WHOLE NIGHTS OFF!!!!  That is just badass.  It also points up the fact that the company is quite a timesuck.  He’s worked the past fistfull of Saturdays- in his case, Friday nights- then is ‘off’* Saturday night and heads back in Sunday night.  I know it pays the bills.  I know.  I also know it leaves him no time to pursue his (ample) hobbies and art activities.  It frustrates me.  I want to fix it for him, and me.  I miss him being around.  And it pisses me off that there’s no end in sight to the 10 hour days/6 day weeks.  ARGH.  

*Read: exhausted


exhausted bear



I suck at being patient.  Heh.  I am good at reminding myself periodically that things could be worse, though.  After all, I could still work at the library…..



Currently listening to:  Beirut: The Flying Cup Club



then and now

I skipped yoga on Tuesday out of sheer laziness.  Awful, isn’t it.  It’s not like my limbs are going to get stretched AT ALL as I sit on my ass playing Ratchet and Clank.  The only endurance I’m testing is that of my eyes and their tolerance for (another) LED screen.  And maybe my fast-twitch reflexes.  Both are really good.  Heh.  I did, however, make Hula class yesterday and it felt like I more than made up for missing yoga.  Heavy breathing and all….

Woke up this morning thinking about my grandparents house.  They had it built in ’64 and lived there until the early ’90s.  It was an amazing place for a little kid.  Grandma kept me during the day while mom was working before I started school and I had free reign.


This huge front window let me look out on a cul de sac from the house that was my entire world. The china cabinet at the end of the hall where I stored hugs.  The place my grandfather- who ‘kicked’ the furnace on and continually promised to ‘raise your board’ (utterly mystifying phrases to my 3,4,5 year old brain) came home to.  The place that housed the buffet under which Mr. Winkle hid from me, however desperately I wished he’d come out and let me pet him.  I lay there and reconstructed it in my mind, every detail I could remember.  I traveled in time this morning.  From my bed in 2011 back to the safe haven of my childhood in 1980.


It’s remarkable the details that can be found, the tiny memories one doesn’t even consider until those timetravel moments.  Counting and stacking coins out of the lunch jar at the kitchen table.  The C clamp on grandpa’s workbench.  Ridiculous how neat that thing was.  The massive, unending yard in the back that led to the absolute mystery of ‘woods’.  The family room where ‘Ryan’s Hope’, ‘All My Children’, ‘The Price is Right’ and chocolate sundaes could perpetually be found.  They were so good to me, my grandparents.  Took me on vacations and spent as much time with me as possible.  I miss them so.


There are days, I think, when we are reminded more strongly how tenuous our grasp on and of life really is.  In just a week, there have been some pretty major changes in the lives of several people close to me.  The passing of one, the jolt into reality of another, the skin of the teeth eye opener for another.  History is good.  It’s necessary, reminding us of where we came from and what we are capable of.  It is no substitute for this moment, though.  Like a talisman in my pocket, I carry those memories of my grandparents and they protect me from despair when I remember less pleasant childhood memories, but I will not lose myself in this moment to myself in the past.  I can’t.


This moment is too good to miss…..