No Prelude, Just a List

1. Today I went to the dentist for the first time in ten years. I've always kept it a secret as to how long it's actually been since I've been to the dentist, but now that I've broken that streak I've become more ok with my former dental irresponsibility. I have miraculously come out once again with no cavities. I don't know how I did it, Blog. They don't just tell you to brush twice a day for your health... or actually they do. This good news, however, reinforces the fear I have for the dentist since I've never experienced the pain of a drill. Though I did get my wisdom teeth pulled way back in high school. I can't imagine drilling would be that bad...

2. I have somehow ended up with two guitars in the back seat of my car, neither of which are mine. Weird. Had you told me that a year ago, I would have slapped you with a soft and supple hand that hasn't been mangled by steel strings digging into its fingertips.Then I would have silently worried about the impending root canal for which I was surely due since it had been a ridiculously long time since I had my teeth cleaned.

3. I just re-read points one and two and almost deleted them because I hate how they sound. But I won't because I've started writing point three. I'm past the moment. Must continue on and accept what is now the recent past.

4. I had a Mediterranian sandwich from Potbelly today for lunch/supper. It was my food conclusion after a long day of wondering what the hell I was so hungry for. The sandwich hit the spot. I would have never thought to eat it without taking a good seven minutes to pore over the friendly-soaked menu at the Potbelly in the IDS until I conjured up the memory that feta is delicious cheese that should never be put in a corner.

5. I wish I knew what IDS stood for. I'm sure I could look it up on the internet, but I did enough of that yesterday. I'll let it be a mystery for now.

6. Investor's Diversified Services. No wonder no one knows what the hell it stands for. How forgettable.

7. I like this song:

Bye!

Sing My Name, Sing My Name

Have you ever thought about songs that have your name in them, Blog? I haven't either. But thanks to the magic that is the internet, both you and the ability to look up songs with our names in them exist. Look at this gem I found just for you, Blog. You're welcome:

Today, a slight facebook tiff with my ex-boyfriend (one of the two I'm still friends with) lead me to look up Cole Porter's array of songs that he wrote for musicals, movies, and the general public's ear back in the first half of the 20th century. I won't get into semantics of exactly why I was looking up Cole Porter music*, but as I perused the long list of hits, a title stuck out to me: "I Love You Samantha".

Whaaa? I've never been aware of any songs that featured my name. When Mambo No. 5 came out during my freshman year of high school, I anxiously listened for my name so I would know the flavor of sexiness I was destined to represent. Unfortunately, the only person I knew who shared a name in the line up was my mom with "a little bit of Mary all night long". Great.

I've pretty much thrown out the novelty of having my name in a song ever since. The internet wasn't a thing I did back in high school and when it finally did come into my life, I had better things to look up.

But today, the simple and fun thought of looking up songs with my name as a defining detail was presented before my very eyes. I was pleased to find that Bing Crosby himself was the man who was in love with me. He's a one gal guy, in case you didn't know:

I also need to invest in a fabulous yellow robe.

Hearing my name sung by Bing's voice is so strange and fun! I was hooked. I did an official Google search for songs about Samantha and found this other one by Sir Elton John (one I probably should know about but don't because I'm terrible with pop culture):

I'm both amused and disappointed that I can identify more clearly with Lady Samantha, but what do you do. Having a slight case of the sads with you at all times can lend itself to creativity and the forlorn listening to a 1960s superstar's remorse for what he had said 'round the campfire. At least the truth came out in the end.


*A viewing of De-Lovely in late 2005 combined with my ex-boyfriend's loose wrists equalling an inside joke that includes the phrase "Cole Porter-Gay" might have something to do with it if you're really curious.

Thank God

Blog, I am really glad that I figured this out. I am really glad that I'm acting on it (be it strategically). I am incredibly relieved that I found some validation in the risks I'm about to take in the video/speech below:

So many times I've been asked at this job to articulate what my dream job is. It's always assumed that everyone would rather be doing something else, but we are here because it's the responsible thing to do. It's what needs to happen in order to afford the simple luxuries that we've grown accustomed to. I'm amazed at myself for being able to ask "But what's the worst thing that would happen if I went after what I really want to do?". My entire job is based on giving others the advice and motivation they need to go after their dreams. What would happen if I took my own advice? What is the absolute worst that would happen?

I would fail. I would be broke. I would have to put my dream on hold and start up a lame desk job again. But what I would have then that I don't have now is the experience and satisfaction of giving it a go. Might as well take a risk. There's only so much time left on this earth.



The Notes of Strangers

I had a first today, Blog. Of of all my years of living in Uptown and parking on its narrow and cramped streets, this morning I finally got my first passive/aggressive note that indicated frustration at the lack of parking skill I had displayed last night when I positioned my lengthy Mercury Sable adjacent to a driveway.

Speaks for itself.

They are right on two counts: I don't have a compact car (see: Mercury Sable) and I am kind of a jackass for positioning the butt of it next to a driveway. But I don't want to be seen that way by a stranger. I get that there is always going to be someone who isn't happy with what you do in this world, no matter how well-meaning you are (the reason I am notorious for putting the butt of my car up against driveway openings is so there is enough room for other cars to park down the street), but I couldn't help but feel a little hurt that such a blatant generalization had been made in regard to my character; based on the shitty positioning of a shitty 1997 Mercury Sable, no less.

I mulled it over today and returned my car to the streets of Uptown this afternoon. I tucked it away on the side of the street where there was ample parking space for my non-compact car to jack-assedly take up. I turned over the torn fragment of paper and attempted to take what harsh criticism I could, and use the rest of my despair over the situation towards killing my disgruntled mystery person with slightly snarky kindness:

I'm banking on my decent penmanship to carry me through this one.

I have no idea if anyone will come across it and take the time to read it. I have no idea if the person who left the inital note is someone who lives in my building or down the street. But I figure that there is a chance that they will see me get into or out of my car, and therefore will associate me with being that "Jackass who puts their giant car wherever the hell they want" without me even realizing it. The best I can do is acknowledge that I am indeed a jackass and will be more mindful in the future of where I position my car on the testy streets of the Whittier neighborhood, because in the end the last thing I want to be doing is pissing off strangers.

The Title is Untitled

I have calluses on my fingers, Blog. I haven't had calluses like this in years. They are an achievement for me. They tell me that I've been diligent in playing music.

I can play for longer and longer periods of time each day. I've replaced conditioning my body by running two miles at a time with conditioning my left hand to twist and wrench itself in unnatural positions for half an hour at a time. A month ago it was painful and foreign. Tonight it was comfortable and satisfying.

Practice, practice, practice. Another thing my mom was right about.

I love that I once again have the ability to tap the hardened skin at the tips of my fingers on whatever hard surface that finds itself beneath them. I do it because I've never had the nails to make that sound. I do it to bask in the physical results of my accomplishments.

Oh man, Blog. I'm a little tipsy and therefore I'm a little poetic. I'm also a little bit happy. I really love this roommate thing. I am really loving this band thing. I am really loving my life for every moment that is given to me outside of the dull and monotonous corporate job that graces my daylight hours.

I want to punch myself for being so overly descriptive, Blog. That's it. I'm making a list.

1. I've spent a lot of money at Ikea over the past few weeks. This apartment I've moved into is actually a wonderful place. There are expansive windows that let incredible amounts of light to spill all over the hardwood floors. There is ample counter space in the kitchen. I have my own room with a reasonable closet and large window. The only thing that really sucks is the bathroom. There is no place for my toothbrush. My toiletries are often times lost behind the claw foot bath tub. There is a glass bottle reminiscent to a wine bottle lying underneath the tub. I don't know what's going on there.

2. I am getting old. I have gray hair. People don't believe me because I color it. But it's there, Blog. I am going gray. Big time.

3. Me going gray is an indicator that while I've inherited my mother's tone and demeanor, I've inherited my father's looks. I haven't seen a youthful picture of him since I was a child, but I'm hoping that he was a good looking guy back in the day. Please let him have been a good looking guy back in the day. I can't afford to be looking like this any time soon:

Though, I can afford that magnificent purple shirt.

3. Random thought: I've had to say goodbye to someone I've cared about immensely knowing that I would never see them again. That's the kind of thought that crosses my mind whenever I think of the Englishman. It's been over a year since I've seen him already. Crazy.

4. I want to make you fun again , Blog. I think the best way to do this is to write in you more often. That way I'll get sick of blanket blogging and will be forced to write about the stupid specific stuff that happens to me on a daily basis. Like today I was hugged by the Goblirsch Jr. as he told me he'd hug me until I starved to death. Unfortunately for everyone, I had just eaten. It would take him awhile. He gave up and left for Chicago instead.

I've drank a handsome amount of wine this evening Blog. I think I'm done. Until tomorrow... (because here's to hoping that I write tomorrow)

I Didn't Think I'd Be This Way

Blog, tonight I got a phone call from my friend Sam. She started out the conversation with a preface to some news she had to share.

"I wanted to tell you before you saw it on Facebook," she said.

"Ok," I replied tentatively. I was half nervous and half excited for what surely was some juicy gossip. She said she was going to text me, but thought that calling me would be a better way to tell me. For a second I thought someone might have died, but she was too upbeat for that sort of a tragedy. I was hopeful that it wasn't something that would ruin the pleasant Sunday evening I was spending with my new roommates. One thing I've learned in the last week is that coming home to people is an amazing thing. So far I love this living-with-people situation.

"Brian is engaged," she said. Or so I thought she said.

"Brian? Who's Brian?"

"Ryan," she tried again; emphasizing the "R" at the beginning of his name.

"Brian?" I could not wrap my mind around who she was talking about. Frankly, all I could think of was that guy I dated a year ago. I have my own reasons for going there... unfortunately.

"Ryan. Ryan is engaged."

"Ryan? Ryan. Ohhh! Ryan!"

Ryan, Blog. Ryan, my ex-boyfriend. Ryan, the one who I thought I was just going to end up with forever. Ryan, the one who would joke that he wanted to trade me in for a "younger model" and then really did. Ryan is engaged.

It only took a second for me to realize how he asked her. I knew even before Sam went into detail. It's the beginning of October in Minneapolis. That means the Twin Cities Marathon is on the tips of everyone's tongues. That means he ran it. And that means he proposed to her in a most public and flashy gesture right after he crossed the finish line.

Hit the nail on the head.

I anticipate a destination wedding to take place in Mexico in either the early spring or fall of next year. My best to the happy couple.

Sam was worried that I'd be hurt or upset or feel a sting of lost love. She even went out of her way to talk me up as a beautiful, one-of-a-kind girl who couldn't have a ring determined for her because of her terrific originality. It was sweet and I appreciated the sentiment (because it's totally accurate), but it was something I didn't need to hear. I already knew what she was telling me and frankly, I am so removed from the situation that I was a little sad I wasn't more jealous/upset/bitter that this has happened. However, I take great pride in this reaction since it was a mere two years ago I felt like my entire world was caving in around me because he decided that I wasn't the girl for him.

It's turned out to be the biggest favor anyone has ever paid me.

In those two years since he told me that he wanted someone who would do things like focus on their career and run marathons, I've experienced more than I could have ever imagined when I was wasting away in that suburban house.

If he knew what I was up to these days, he'd probably think that he's made it and I've taken a turn for the worst. I'm still single, just moved in with roommates and hate my job. But this change I've made has already started to make me happy. I'm interacting with people who inspire, support, and challenge me. I'm playing music on a regular basis which is incredibly satsifying and makes me happier than I have been in a long time. I'm realizing things about this world and this life that I was too scared to realize before. I'm taking risks and am going down the road less traveled. I'm incredibly single, incredibly unattached, incredibly determined to keep the things I've loved my entire life at the forefront of it. It's something I've never done before, and it certainly was something that wasn't on my mind when I was with Ryan.

So thank you, Ryan. Every time I learn something new about your life, I'm reminded that settling for you would have been the biggest mistake I could have ever made. Congratulations on the marathon and engagement. Two years ago I was the one at the finish line, screaming my support for you, but had you gotten down on one knee after you had crossed it, I know I wouldn't have said yes. I'm glad you just went to the water tent instead.