I Am I Don Quixote The Lord of La Mancha

So, I just picked up Patty Griffin's latest album Impossible Dream, the title of which kept taking me back to my first high school musical experience in the Man of La Mancha. I was, of course, a meager peasant in the chorus, but hey, my makeup for the show included making myself look really, really muddy and dirty.

Any way... one of the major theme songs of the Man of La Mancha goes To dream the impossible dream, to right the unrightable wrong, to bear the unbearable sorrow, to run where the brave dare not go...etc. We also sang this song for choir the next year. Every time I saw the title Impossible Dream, therefore, I thought of this song.

Come to find out... at the end of "Top of the World," an amazing song in itself, there's a small clip of this very song! I feel so cultured. heh. I can't wait to see Patty this weekend. It's going to be a great weekend of concerts.

Friday night: Switchfoot and Johnny Lang (and perhaps Wyclef Jean)
Saturday night: Shawn Colvin and Patty Griffin (and possibly Josh Rouse)
Sunday night: The Strokes

I'm not going to say I'm working for the weekend here... but come on, why not?

Scatter-brained

I could give you a recap of my weekend, but no one wants to hear that except Nate (hi Nate), who wants me to tell you I met a real jerk of a guy named Nate. Well, that's not going to happen. I met a ton of really cool people this weekend, girls and guys from the tumultuous world of UW A Cappella, and yes, Nate was one of them and no, he's not a jerk like he'd have you believe. ;-) The girls and guys were all awesome and the sound people did an outstanding job.

Speaking of jobs, I've started my second job working retail at The Loft (with a great boss who's married to a wonderful blogger) I had my first real shift last night and I'd have to say it was fun getting outfits put together for people. Someone even told me I was a great "up-seller" since I found her matching shoes and a darling purse to complete her ensemble. I don't even work on commission, I just really like to accessorize. My roommates used to laugh at me because even my pajamas are coordinated. I blame this all on my mother who never bought me "clothes." Nope, not her, from her I got "outfits." Outfits that were all interchangeable. I don't consider this a bad thing at all, but perhaps that's why I have so many shoes.. yes/no? Accessories make the outfit! Notice that they aren't "excessories."

Ok, enough of that.

My mom, aunt and nephew came to see me in Madison while I was there. We had breakfast and walked around looking for a sweatshirt for my mom. I could have used a sweatshirt, too, at the time-- brrrr. Turns out, my cousin and his wife were also in town that day, although we didn't know it. They participated in the annual 5-mile Crazy Legs run. Colin (yes, I have a nephew and a cousin named Colin) ran and Marci walked. Marci would have run, if she wasn't scheduled to give birth in 3 WEEKS!!!! Dang, that girl is crazy. I intend to be hand-fed in bed that close to giving birth, not doing some 5-mile walk. So, it's sad that we missed them. I could have seen her cute belly!!!

I also didn't see my best friend who lives in Madison. Or anyone not involved with a cappella, really. Sometimes you just have to do that or else you get worn too thin, you know?

K, I'm off to do stuff. How have y'all been? I've missed you.

Champaign

The city. As in, greetings from. That's right kids. I'm in Champaign, IL and let me tell you, IT'S FREAKING COLD!!!! Boo, I've become a true, spoiled southern chick-a-dee. It's about 30 degrees here this morning. Gah. At least it's supposed to get up to 63 today in Madison, WI-- our final destination.

Linds and I drove 5.5-6 hours last night and stopped to see a friend of ours who is an opera grad student at the University of Illinois (booooo. hisssss.-- that's the WI alum coming out there.) We had an easy drive, made good time and got to spend a while hanging with our friend before we all started falling asleep where we sat.

This is A Cappella Weekend! For a taste of the concerts we'll be participating in and viewing all weekend, see the girls group that I used to be in and the guys group.

Ok, time to clean up and get back on the road!

Much love.

An Invention

So, I've figured out how I'm going to become a bajillionaire. I've come up with an invention to completely revolutionize all motor vehicle systems. Using this invention will prevent more accidents and increase overall driving safety. It will be a sort of warning system to let other drivers know when you want to change lanes or turn one way or the other. There will be little blinking lights on the front and rear corners and a little lever easily accessible to the steering wheel of each car with which to control the little signals. Say a driver needs to be in the left lane, said driver will click the lever leftward and the little lights on the left side of the car will automatically start blinking, letting other drivers know, "hey, I'm moving over to the left lane." Or perhaps said driver wants to make a right-hand turn, he/she would simply click the lever over to the right instead.

If people used these little blinking lights, this "signaling system" if you would, road safety would increased as well brake lifespan! Oh to wonder in joy at the thought!

I'd Like to Report Some Missing People

I have a friend, actually I have several friends, who have become M.I.A. Sometimes it seems like I only actually have one friend left! It's really amazing when you go from hanging out with someone most of the time to never seeing them or talking to them and actually feeling like a pest when you try. It's like we broke up or something, but I've yet to receive closure.

I told a friend recently that I'm thinking of "consolidating" my friendships, meaning that I'm willing to let some friendships finally ebb into nothingness if need be. I don't want to do this. It just seems like some people have better things to do than call me back, or call at all. Perhaps they just have busier schedules than I do, yeah that's it, so they're just waiting to call me whenever they happen to have a spare moment.

The real deal though, is that I'm not the one doing the consolidating. I feel like they're whittling me out. So, I'm tired of fighting to save friendships that seemingly didn't mean as much to others as they did to me. It's not as cut-and-dry as I make it sound. These are friendships after all, not business deals. These are people who know about some of the worst hardships I've been through in the past few years. These are people with whom I've cried and laughed and fought and embraced.

The whole situation has really hurt me. I wake up in the morning with headaches and muscle tension from horrible, stressful dreams about fighting with them, being abandoned by them. I've been angered, saddened and left hollow by their absences. The worst part is it's not like it's several people from one group. They are a few different people in completely different areas of my life and they're all walking away. And I'm going to let them because it hurts too much to keep getting tossed in their wakes, it hurts to much to keep falling on my face while grasping for threads of reason. I can only take so much. I can only wonder so much if I'm that poor of a friend/person. I can only ask them and myself so many times if I've done something wrong. Sometimes the only thing left is to move on. Grasping at straws does no good when you're in the middle of the Pacific.

My Dawson

For those of you who weren't Creek* fans or didn't catch the finale, Joey ended up with Pacey. She and Dawson decided that they'll always be together in some cosmic way, just not in a romantic sense.

I have a "Dawson," a guy friend who is like my kindred spirit-- but not my soulmate. It's hard to tell the difference sometimes, although it's rather enormous. Yeah. So, now I'm thinking about findin' me a Pacey. ;-)

*Not to be confused with "Creeksters," the name for Nickel Creek fans. Which are way cooler than Dawson's Creek fans, by the way.

Promised Quotes
from Fat and Happy by Wendy Shanker as featured in Self Magazine

"I'm not a doctor. I'm not a therapist. I don't have a degree in health education. I'm just a professional ex-dieter with a chip on my shoulder and a mission on my mind. There are too many women just like me who know more information about fat grams than about foreign policy, who spend more time counting calories than communicating with friends. And that ain't right."

"Technically, because I am fat, I look fat in everything."

"The body image anxiety we put ourselves through is mostly wasted time, wasted energy and, finally, wasted life."

"Here's the challenge: Think about how much time you've spent pondering your extra poundage and punishing yourself for what you've put in your mouth. Now imagine not doing that. Imagine if we all did it. The fat girls and the skinny chicks. The movie stars and the PR agents, the soccer moms and the CEOs. Imagine all that free time not going toward ripping ourselves to shreds. All that money that we're not going to spend on fat-free, sugar-free, taste-free sorbet. [Personal interjection: I like sorbet~melissa] That's a lot of minutes and money from a lot of women with a lot of brainpower. Use that energy to admire achievements more than muscles, to weigh options, not bodies."

"So, basically The Man's trying to bring us down by making us focus on weight instead of taking over the world like we should."

"If I had a choice between regular heaven and pie heaven, I'd choose pie heaven. It might be a trick, but if it's not... mmmmm boy!"

~ok, ok. she didn't say the last two quotes. but it would have been awesome if she had.

ah well, go here, it's more entertaining than I am.

Love Songs

I just got Andy Davis' album "Thinks of Her" in the mail the other day. This aptly titled disc contains approximately 35 minutes of love-induced or lovelorn songs. Instead of having most of the songs be about relationships with a few obligatory songs not about relationships, this disc is intentionally devoted to songs about relationships-- about what Davis is thinking as he "Thinks of Her."

I'm not very good at writing love songs. There's "Fools." Well ok, that's about a couple who will never get together because they don't communicate. Then there's "Far Away Home." Oh, that's about a marriage gone sour and cold. "Pedestal" is about expecting too much of another person. And then there's "Should've Known Better"-- the title speaks for itself. See, I told you I wasn't very good at writing love songs. I don't think I've had the right muse as of yet.

There were two loves songs that I wrote last year. They were for my friends' wedding. Which was actually one year ago today! Yes, I've called to wish them a Happy Anniversary already. They were a good source of inspiration. The thing about Andy's love songs... they're about her. He's thinking about her, whomever "her" may be. I think about myself too much to write about him, whomever "he" will be.

Here are some examples of attempts from my documents:

"God I wish I knew what love was. I wish I could put it in a song. But the hollowness would hide all I had to offer, all that I could write. All my words are lost now. My pallet has run dry. Wish I could write a love song. Wish I had the chance to try.

I thought I knew what love was once. Thought I could explain. Now I can't remember that far back. Don't know what to say.

And my mother's always wondering where her girls went wrong. I told her that it just takes time. What if she's the one that's right.

What if I was never meant to have you? Whomever you might be. What if everyone is meant to fall in love? Everyone but me.

And yet, I'm young. I've got a life to live, free from strings and obligations, free from jealousy and questions, free from love in all progressions..."



Old Red Shirt

You wear me like your old red shirt, Brand new in seventh grade
Fit you like a tent back then, fits like a glove today

Chorus:
You wear me like your old red shirt
You wear me like your old red shirt
Darling, you wear me like your old red shirt
A second skin of faded comfort

You wear me like your old red shirt, Its ringer collar frayed
Peeled off the label years ago, Said you like it better plain

Chorus
Bridge:
There are patches growing threadbare
And the seams are showing through
What others call beyond repair
Fits perfectly to you

Chorus Modified:
You wear me like your old red shirt
You wear me like your old red shirt
Darling, you wear me like your old red shirt
A second skin...

End
You wear me like your old red shirt, Broken in through time
You wear me like your old red shirt
And I wear you like mine

Worth the Weight

Well, since tomorrow's Easter, I suppose I can spill the beans (I mean confessions, not jelly bellys)-- the following is my essay on What I Gave Up For Lent. (um, or something)

The other day I picked up a couple of magazines at the grocery store. Last month I picked up a couple for my plane ride up north and one had some good looking previews for this month, so I wanted to make sure I got that one in particular. Unfortunately, since I don't buy magazines all that frequently, I couldn't remember the name of said interesting magazine, so I picked two that sounded familiar.

One of them was Self Magazine, a magazine for which I actually used to have a subscription. This is basically a beauty magazine about health and fitness. A couple years ago I ended my subscription, figuring that, in truth, the magazine wasn't a healthy beauty magazine alternative, but actually made me even more obsessed and concerned with exercise and my body's shape.

When I got home and realized what mag I had picked up, I was a bit unfurled. This is a magazine I'm supposed to stay away from, dangit! However, I opened it up to give it a skim and found the very first article to be about being happy fat, by a self-proclaimed fat woman (5'7", 220lbs). This article had some great quotes that I will post later since I forgot to bring the magazine and (sadly) couldn't find the article on their site. It is a very positive article about loving yourself for you and making changes for yourself and no one else and all sorts of stuff like that-- regardless who you are or what your shape.

Now, I know I'm not fat. I also know that I used to be 20-25 lbs heavier than I am now. Well, actually, I don't know that for sure because, you see, I gave up weighing myself for Lent. A seemingly odd, yet unbelievably difficult thing to do-- especially for someone who has been fighting eating disorders for a number of years. I can't tell you how many times I've been tempted to step on a scale in the past 39 days. I never realized how much well, weight I give to my poundage. It's a sort of comfort, knowing that even though I had a piece of cake (or three) I still weigh the same amount and I didn't blow up like a balloon. There are certain times when the scale really is a comfort because, even though I feel fat, it tells me nothing's changed and it's all in my head.

It's been hard not having that comfort, that crutch, but it's been good. To be honest, I'm dying to know what I weigh, though I'm sure it hasn't changed much-- and I've even had a couple of doctor's appointments in which they've had to take my weight, so It's not even like I've gone the full 40 days without a weight check at all.

Just know you don't realize how much you use your elbow until you hurt it, I never knew how much I relied on that scale for comfort (and I don't even own one!) until I couldn't run to it. There have been days that have been extremely difficult without this crutch, but I think I'm learning to flex muscles I would have never realized I had unless I'd set it down. Now I just have to strengthen those muscles so that I can run to the One True Comfort. The greatest thing is, that even if I'm so weak that I can't hobble, much less run to Him, He'll come and sweep me up right where I've fallen. For that, I give great thanks and tears of mercy-filled joy.

SAMPLE ME!

So, you want to hear some music do you? Ok, then. Go here. There are three songs. "Fools" is the song Kristi's been wanting to hear for forever. "Patricia Lee" is the song I wrote the day after my aunt passed away from breast cancer.

So, there you have it, at long last, some MP3s.

Things, ok SONGS, That Make Me Happy As Of Late

I Met a Girl~ Wheat

Return to Me~ Matthew Ryan

Do You Realize~ Flaming Lips

Fell In Love With a Boy~ Joss Stone

Burning Photographs~ Ryan Adams

Silence is Easy~ Starsailor

Five Minutes, Superhero, Like a Drug~ pretty much anything by Garrison Starr

She Will Be Loved~ Maroon 5

I'm Shakin'~ Rooney

Friday I'm In Love~ The Cure (this is just an all around "make me feel good" staple)

Ugly Girl~ Fleming and John

Will Hoge

Basically a whole bunch of songs that I can blast in the car with the windows rolled down to let in the warming breezes. I love warmer weather.

There's a definite difference between summer music and winter music. Winter music is more intimate, moodier, closer: the kind of music you curl up in a chair with while sipping hot cocoa. Summer music is fun and blaring; the kind you can roll with, dance to and just all-around radiate fun. "You Got It Bad" by Usher reminds me of warm weather. "Something's Missing" and "Man on the Side" from John Mayer's live double disc remind me of cold, rainy nights. Tracy Chapman's whole "Let it Rain" album reminds me of some dark winter freezes, physically and emotionally. I love driving to "Romeo on the Radio" from The Normals, perfect warm weather driving song. Wilco's "Heavy Metal Drummer" is a total summer song, as well.**

It's so amazing how different songs and different types of music emerge in different seasons of the year, and of life in general. In this season, I just want to bop my head and shake a tail feather. I'm ready for flipflops, tank tops and dancin' tunes.

**As a disclaimer, these songs remind me of these things, a lot of the time, because that's when I first heard them or heard them most.

Forgive Me Reader For I Have Scened

Sorry for the pun (ok, not really-- I'm really that cheesy) but I just couldn't help it since I'm citing the second article from The Scene in two consecutive posts. I really do have my own thoughts. Really. Anyway, this "gladiator" article reminded me of a friend and I thought I'd share his crazy antics with you.

My friend Matt (one of my friends named Matt, there are about a gajillion) is an Ultimate Fighter. As in, he goes into a ring no-holds-barred and either beats the crud out of someone or vice versa. Let me put things in perspective for you: Matt's not a big guy. He's probably around 5'9", maybe 155lbs and quite aesthetically pleasing, not to mention hilarious. He dressed really nice and majored in business at Madison. I think he's one of those dumb smart boys. We even had one class together my senior year and we would sit next to each other, when he showed up.

One day he came in to class in his J Crew button down, sweater, jeans and arm sling. Ok, no, J Crew does not make an arm sling... of which I am aware. Yeah, he broke his collar bone, or rather, the guy he was fighting broke his collar bone. However, I think he actually won the match, fighting in a higher weight class than he should have. I thought about going to one of his matches, but after I saw the videos of previous matches, I knew I could be no where near that arena. Though I admit I would have cheered mighty heartily for him if I had.

Deep Fried Onion

In honor of April Fool's Day, one of Nashville's local (and my favorite) publications, The Nashville Scene, decided to post a few cover stories Onion style. I was literally laughing out loud reading this to myself over coffee the other day. Ah, southern humor.

WANTED: ONE (1) COPING MECHANISM

This weekend a friend and I went to the Southern Women's Show. No, not something any boy would be caught dead at, lest he be forced to carry purses and roll his eyes for hours on end. Actually, there was a time or two in there when I wondered if I was even girlie enough to be in that place. It was a lot of hand lotions, beaded jewelry and pink. Including pink ribbons, the official symbol of breast cancer awareness. Despite the free samples and gallons of hand lotion samples, I left the building sobbing.

Over a year ago my aunt fell to the disease of breast cancer and I suppose I have yet to really cope with her passing. I mean, I know plenty of people who have survived the disease, especially in my own family, so I often underestimate the seriousness of the disease. Seeing the loads of women at the couple of breast cancer awareness booths touting the vast improvements in research and treatment did not bring me warm fuzzies. It made me angry. One woman rattled off a statistic about the improvement in mortality rates from 95% mortality to 95% survival. Don't get me wrong, that's amazing. Being an at-risk candidate myself, I bank on improving research, technologies and preventative healthcare.

However, the way the women all smiled and radiated angered me so much because 95% is great, but it isn't 100%. There are a lot of survivors, and there are some who haven't. I wanted the ladies to acknowledge those who scrapped tooth and nail and still didn't make it. Instead they stood there in their black and pink looking more like Victoria's Secret sales associates than healthcare activists. I felt bad because my friend's mom has recently gone through chemo and survived and was all gung-ho about the cancer awareness tables. The ladies were so happy that her mom was a survivor, I didn't have the heart to tell them my aunt wasn't and bring down all their joy. So, I just wandered off infuriated and distraught.

It's not their fault that I was mad. It's just that my aunt did all that stuff: the walks for research, the campaigning, the crusading. She was beautiful, outrageous, impetuous, immature and amazing. They didn't have a somber funeral when she finally went to her eternal rest, they threw a party. That's what she would have wanted. Maybe that's why I haven't coped with things. She wouldn't want me to be sad or angry. She'd want me to celebrate life for what it is, even in the crappy times. She'd want me to pick up the flag where she set it down and with my face forward, thumb the world and keep on moving. She'd want me to be thankful for those who have survived (I am) and help those who need it (I will try). In the very least she'd expect me to toast her with some Dewer's. What a broad.

"Of course it's my color, I bought it." ~my aunt in response to questions about her hair color.

I Love Me Some Hot Yoga

But not this much.

The State of the Non-Union

One of my roommates moved out yesterday. She and her fiance just closed on their house and she's moving in before the wedding. I had to face the fact that not only was I losing a roommate, I was losing a coffee grinder and free Starbucks beans every week. It was a sad day.

Even sadder because I was sick. Yet again. Stupid illnesses. I swear I work in a dorm-type atmosphere where diseases just continually people hop. With that and the sporadic weather, my immune system hardly gets any time to recoup.

Neither does my desk or apartment. You can tell how I feel by the condition of my surrounding areas. My desk is in a current state of chaos and my bedroom... oh man, my bedroom. I've thought about not cleaning up but just starting to pack instead. I mean, I'm moving in a couple months, makes sense, right? Looking around the apartment makes me dread the whole moving process. I think we'll need to rent a U-Haul. Except we won't because we're far too cheap/poor for anything like that, especially since it looks like we'll have to move into the new place before the old lease is up. Double payments, woo hoo. (Did I mention the root canal bill from hell? oh yeah, and my brakes are starting to grind, so I'm going to have to have that looked at asap. great)

The new place is great, though. It's a duplex, 3BR 2BA, large kitchen with dishwasher and adjoining dining room, fireplace, front and back yard with lawn maintenance provided and a washer and dryer. The rent is slightly higher than I'm paying now, but the location is amazing. A wonderfully quiet neighborhood, completely safe and yet still not far from anything. Now we just need to find a third roommate. bah.

I've applied for a second job and will hopefully get to go in for a second interview soon, since my (hopefully) manager-to-be and I have been playing phone tag to do just that.

So, now all I have to do is work on raising the money to go to Ireland (the week before moving), get my car fixed before driving up to Wisconsin in a few weeks and nail down my entire-employment situation. Oh yeah, and then there's that "have enough money to duplicate THE CD" issue. dangit. someday my pretties, someday.