Foolish Thoughts

I’m going summer stock book shopping this weekend, between packing and doing laundry.  Actually, it’s a good excuse to procrastinate on packing and doing laundry.  But I do officially start my summer in one week, so I need to build up a good summer reading list.  There are a few that I already have on my inventory, but I’m in need of some suggestions.  I always tend to lean towards certain styles of writing and I’m unable to leave a book store without purchasing a memoir or biography (Along with white long sleeve t-shirts, memoirs and biographies are a little OCD of mine).  So, I ask of you, a reader, what should I read this summer?  What are your suggestions?  I’m up for any and all you have to offer.  Below are a few I recommend.  These books are wonderful.  Most will make you laugh, and a few will make you cry.  

I suggest these:

-My Horizontal Life by Chelsea Handler:  She is hilarious! I want her to write more.
-Dork Whore by Iris Bahr:  I almost peed my pants I was laughing so hard.  You know her and her uproarious humor from Curb Your Enthusiasm.
-Straight Talking by Jane Green
-My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult:  This is a powerful book.  It will make you think, it will make you laugh, and it will make you cry like a helpless baby.
-Me and Emma by Elizabeth Strout:  Another one that will make you cry.
-Devil in the Details by Jennifer Traig
-Straight Up and Dirty by Stephanie Klein:  Probably one of the greatest memoirs EVER!
-A Hypocrite in a Puffy White Dress by Susan Jane Gilman
-Little Children by tom Perrota:  I loved this book
-Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim by David Sedaris:  My favorite author.  Anything by David Sedaris is great, but my opinion is a bit bias.

What I have on my list so far:

-The Devil, the Lovers, and Me: My Life in Tarot by Kimberlee Auerbach:  Unfortunately it doesn't come out till late summer.  I don't know if I can wait that long.
-Bitter Is the New Black by Jen Lancaster
-Abide With Me by Elizabeth Strout

 

I’m sitting on my front porch working on my lesson plans for next week. Actually, I’m working on lesson plans from four weeks ago. After my last observation from my supervisor, I regretfully neglected my daily logs and reflections. At the time I had better things to do then write lessons and reflections. Now, I’m kicking myself in the ass. Would it have killed me to jot down a few notes each day? What, I can’t remember, was so important that I was unable to write down the days activities my students engaged in? No, actually I do remember what was so important…sleeping, watching tv, and doing abso-freaking-lutely nothing. I thought I had my priorities in order. Apparently not. The only reason I’m even working on them now is my supervisor is coming for her last observation tomorrow. I’d really have to screw things up to ruin this, like hit a kid or pull a Mary K. Laturno. But leave it to me to fail student teaching during my last week. It’s something I would do.

Along with these ridiculous lesson plans, I’m also worried about what is going to happen in two weeks. I’m finished come May 5th. However, I’m moving my stuff out next weekend. Where I’m moving I’m not sure. That’s something I need to figure out. My stuff: furniture, bed, clothes, shoes, kitchen ware/appliances are moving either to my parents house or storage. I still haven’t made up my mind where I’m going. A month ago I had it, my life, all figured out. (I laugh hysterically at myself for even typing that and more for thinking it). The PLAN was to spend the summer in New York, taking writing classes at NYU. Well, NYU smashed that plan by not providing enough housing for their summer students. After going through the long and agonizing process of being accepted, I now have no place to live. Huh, no place to live. That seems to be a reoccurring theme in my life right now.

There’s always the option, the one my mother favors, loves, and encourages, the one where I move back in with my parents. Not a horrible option. There would be no rent, free home cooked food, a pool and jacuzzi. Those are the pros. The cons, which right now out weigh the pros, are: moving back home to live with my parents. Yep, there’s just the one, but it’s a BIG one. I love my parents and I love spending time with them, but after being away for the last seven years I don’t think I would survive, and to be honest, I don’t think they would either.

So now I’m left with worrying what to do come May 5th when I graduate. Where do I go? Where do I go for three months? In September, the PLAN is to go to London and intern with public schools teaching English. But if those PLANS go as the last few I’ve made, I better have a back up PLAN, but what? Everything for the past 25 years of my life has been planned for me. What schools, what friends, what sports, what clubs, and up until 7th grade what clothes. My parents have either decided or I've simply just followed a freind and their plans. This is the first time I’ve been in full control of my future. It scares the crap of out me.

For now I’m going to channel my inner Scarlet O’Hara and say, “I can't think about that right now. If I do, I'll go crazy. I'll think about that tomorrow.”

My cousin, Shasta makes me laugh.  She and her sister are two of my favorite people in the whole world.  They are just funny people.  And what makes them so funny, is that most of the time they have no idea that they are being funny.  However, what makes me laugh the most is that Shasta despises words with any sexual connotation, such as: vagina, penis, or cum.  I find this hilarious.  Probably because I find most sexual words used out of context to be slap your leg, bent over in side stitches, pee your pants funny.  So, I feel it is my duty as her favorite cousin to casually slip in one or more of these words into every conversation.  I once sent her an email that opened with something like this:

Dearest Shasta,
            My Sweet West Vagina is very hot and juicy today, I cunt believe it!  It’s hotter than a witch’s titty here.  You are really going to have to leave your loving Vagina and cum and visit me here in West Vagina.  But make sure you bring protection…it’s going to be HOT!

We also like to text each other movie quotes and see how long we can continue before one of us screws up the line.  Yesterday, we were in fine form.  The conversation went a little something like this. 

Brooke:  My vagina misses you.  I mean I miss you.
Shasta:  Eeeww!  You horse-banging skank!
Brooke:  Who told you about the horse banging?  There are only two people who know about that…the horse and me.
Shasta: That’s just wrong.  I’ve missed you.
Brooke:  I’ve missed you too.
Shasta: Hey, Mikey?  Gotta go to the bathroom
Brooke:  Brand, slip her the tongue.
Shasta:  Get out from behind there.  You’re ruining the painting!
Brooke:  Well, you’re ruining my joke!
Shasta:  Dead things, Mikey…dead things.

Oh how I love my cousin and our sick, and sometimes childish humor.

 

Today like any other day, I placed my ipod on shuffle.  I do this not to listen to the music, but merely to drown out the other noise around me. I don’t like to sit in silence, but I don’t like a lot of noise either.  I can find my a pleasent medium on shuffle with the volume down low.  With my library of songs on shuffle I am surprised with each new song and secretly anticipate the next.  So today while planning my tomorrow, I was surprised and captivated with an unlikely song: Daughter, by Rilo Kylie. 

I"ll admit, I had forgotten that it was even on my ipod.  I've heard this song a thousand times.  I know every word.  But today, when I heard it, it sounded different.  For once, I could relate to it.  Two lines in, my senses took hold and took over.  I could hear it, I could taste it, I could smell it, I could see it, and I could finally feel it.  Even Jenny Lewis’s voice sounded different.  I’m in love with her voice any way.  It’s girly and soft, but her lyrics and undertone are so dark, witty and adult that you fall deeply in love with it,  “It will melt your heart.”

I know there are times when certain songs or lyrics will bring back a memory or a feeling, and in the song you get caught up and lost.  This song doesn't have that affect.  I cannot relate this song to a particular time, day, event, or person in my life.  But still, I sat with it on repeat for two hours today, playing it over and over, listening to every note, every chord, every verse, and every word.  Sometimes songs parallel our lives.  And other times, they just happen to randomly shuffle through.


Daughter, by Rilo Kylie

Sometimes in the morning I am petrified and can't move
Awake but cannot open my eyes
And the weight is crushing down on my lungs I know I can't breath
And hope someone will help me this time
Your mother's still calling you insane and high
Swearing it's different this time
And you tell her to give in to the demons that possess her
And that god never blessed her insides
Then you hang up the phone and feel badly for upsetting things
And crawl back into bed to dream of a time
When your heart was open wide and you loved things just because
Like the sick and the dying

And sometimes when you're on you're really fucking on
And your friends they sing along and they love you
But the lows are so extreme that the good seems fucking cheap
And it teases you for weeks in its absence
But you'll fight and you'll make it through
You'll fake it if you have to
And you'll show up for work with a smile
And you'll be better you'll be smarter
More grown up and a better daughter
Or son and a real good friend
And you'll be awake and you'll be alert
You'll be positive though it hurts
And you'll laugh and embrace all your friends
And you'll be a real good listener
You'll be honest you'll be brave
You'll be handsome you'll be beautiful
You'll be happy

Your ship may be coming in
You're weak but not giving in
To the cries and the wails of the valley below
Your ship may be coming in
You're weak but not giving in
And you'll fight it you'll go out fighting all of them...

 

The day has slowly faded and I climb into bed.  My body collapses but my mind wont rest.  I recall events and conversations, plans and past regrets, dreams and doubts, and happy endings, and things I just can’t figure out.  I toss and turn, rearranging pillows and blankets, then giving in and allowing the bed to win.  I fight for comfort and compromise and settle for malaise.  I’m too tired to fight.

I worry about everything.  I worry about the future and what it holds.  I worry about the past and if I will ever be forgiven for the things I’ve done.  Will I continue paying a price for my mistakes?  Will the guilt ever go away?  I worry that I will disappoint you and that I already have.  I worry that you will never know how much I actually love you and that you will never love me the way I love you.  I worry that too much has happened between us.  I worry that I’ve screwed everything up.  What if I can’t fix it?  What if I can’t fix me?  I’m tired of trying, tired of hiding, tired of hurting, tired of hoping, tired of relying, tired of controlling, and I’m tired of being tired.  I don’t want to worry anymore.  I don’t want to think about you, yet I do.  I want you to acknowledge I’m here.  I want you to make up your mind, though I fear you won’t choose me.  And I think that scares me most of all.  I fear being rejected, and not being wanted.  I think I’m ready for you, but maybe I’m not ready for love.  And maybe it’s not love your offering.  What are you offering?

There's you.  The one who has been there time and time again.  The one I lean on.  The one I pile all my worry on.  And you never complain, never.  I worry you won’t always be there.  Then what will I do?  Where will I go?  I worry you’re not happy, that you want and need more, and I know you do.  And I can’t repair or change that.

And there’s you.  The one who can make me feel so important, then turn around and make me feel so small.  I don’t know how you do this, or even if you know you do.  You build me up and up, and then you are surprised when I fall.  I worry you don't understand me.  You fill me with encouragement, but will lace it with doubt.  I love you and believe everything you say.  I follow you because you tell me you won’t lead me astray.  I trust you.  Let me fall and stand on my own.  Let me see if I can do it without you.

And lastly, there’s you.  They say to lean, you will carry me.  They say to trust, you won’t let me fall.  They say let you lead, you won’t let me lose my way.  They say rely on you, you’ll always be there.  I worry you won’t.  I worry you haven’t forgiven me for everything.  I worry that I will still disappoint you, that I will still make mistakes.  I don’t know how to give you all control.  I worry I don’t know how to talk to you.  I worry I don’t know how to let go and let you.

So for now, I push my worries aside for another time.  I’ll worry about them tomorrow.  My eyes start to feel heavy, and my thoughts they drift in and out of concisions.  I finally stop fighting and give in to sleep.

 

I just woke up, dazed and with a horrendous case of cotton mouth.  I’m lying in bed with no sheets, no pillow cases, and no blanket.  I’m still wearing jeans, sweater, and my bra, which is now digging deep into my right boob.  I remember closing my eyes to take a little cat nap on the couch yesterday around 6pm, before unpacking and reassembling my bed with fresh clean sheets and bedding.  It’s now 12:47pm on Tuesday.  My “little cat nap” turned into a 18 and a half hour catatonic coma.  I guess the Easter weekend was more tiring that what I had thought.  So now, I’m going to get out of these jeans and this boob digging bra, and into my pj’s, put my bed back together, have a bowl of Marshmallow Matey’s, and maybe take a nap. 

 

I am crazy in-love with Mika and his song, Grace Kelly.