Wednesday, March 31, 2004


I'm not sure how he got it, but Dave has been referring to me as "Lady M." Seems rather sophisticated and diva-ish, like a (rather flattering ) mix of Lady Day and the Divine Miss M, herself, who, by the way said one of my favorite movie quotes of all time: "But enough about me, let's talk about you... what do YOU think of me?" in the super sappy Beaches.

Since this (*possibly* undeserved) nickname celebrates my inner-Diva so well, I think I shall adopt it. Hence forth you shall receive all writings from "Lady M."

Thank you, thank you. Now where has that towel boy run off to? Good help is so hard to find these days! Dang, my fellow TUIB divas would be so proud. Raquel, this is for you.

Tuesday, March 30, 2004

Of Pain

Pain levels involving the root canal process on a scale of 1-10, 1 being "Pain? What pain?" and 10 being "I think my tooth's water just broke."

  • Eating on tooth that needs root canal: 8

  • Worrying about said root canal: 7

  • Going through said root canal: 5 (because the numb face and the process of getting that way kind of stink, but I did almost fall asleep in the chair-- nope, no sleeping gas, I'm just that tired)

  • Getting bill for said root canal: 8,000,000

  • Next project: resuscitate my wallet from its heart attack.

    Monday, March 29, 2004

    Erin Go Braugh! um, again.

    What's that you say? St. Patrick's Day has come and gone? Well, I know that, silly. This time my greeting comes rather as a form of announcement than as salutation. What announcement have I, you ask? Well, I am going to Ireland. I'm going for a week at the end of May with a group from my church. This means I will have to raise the funds to support my time there with a youth ministry in Northern Ireland-- a British claimed area on Irish soil filled with turmoil between the two people groups. Yes, family, don't freak out, I'll be ok.

    On St. Patty's Day I recounted that it has been ten years since the last time I was blessed enough to go to Ireland. I took that trip for granted, but may my eyes be gouged should I do the same this time around. As in the last trip, I will also have a short amount of time in London (1 day) and hope to see the things that I missed out on the first go round as well as a quick snap shot of that city life. *note to self-- bring empty suitcase to London in order to fill with stuff to bring back* :-)

    To be honest, I look to this trip with excitement and trepidation. You see, this promises to be a challenging trip, exposing many of my faults, my caveats and all sorts of idols in my life that I am trying to avoid acknowledging. Everyone I've talked to who has gone to help this ministry in the past has nothing but great things to say about how it changed their lives. This scares me because I don't know if I'm ready to be thrown into refining fires. At the same time, however, I'm not sure which scares me most: the thought of being tested and changed, or the thought of nothing spectacular happening at all. I suppose this means I desire that challenge and change, after all.

    Thursday, March 25, 2004

    Painting Everything in Black and Blue

    I'm a strange kid. I get the weirdest bruises. Today I have one on the top of my hand. Not the top of the hand that I completely schwacked directly into someone's sideview mirror. Oh, no, that hand remained unmarred. The other hand. The one I don't remember doing anything to, ever.

    Last week I was trying on skirts for the next day and turned around to find an amazingly large bruise on the back of my leg above my knee. Ok, longer skirt it is. It was quite purple. And blue. And did I mention it was large? How did it get there? How am I supposed to know?

    And the bruise I got on my thigh above my left knee. Don't really recall how that got there either.

    The funny thing is that I can run into something and expect a bruise, but never get one. Then one day I'll look down at the inside of my forearm (how the heck do you get a bruise on the inside of your forearm??? happens to me all the time) and there's a little brownish/purple dot to call my own.

    I think they're on a delayed reaction. So, if I get a bruise right away, then I know it must be really bad. Otherwise, they don't appear for days (a week?) later and by then I've forgotten the cause.

    Case in point: My cousin and I are the same age. For our high school graduation presents, we got to go out to visit my aunt in California. The week before, at the end of my cousin's graduation, I tried to descend the bleachers instead of the nice, tractioned stairs and ended up, well, *ahem* losing my footing, if you will. Slippery little things they were. There I was trying to be all cool in my long (thankfully), flowing dress and heals, and I slipped on one of the risers half way up and rolled sideways down the rest, stopping only at the one right before the gym floor-- where an elderly gentleman so graciously helped me to my feet while the hot upperclassmen gawked laughed above me. (note: this also qualifies as one of my most embarrassing moments)

    The point of the story is this: my shins didn't bruise. They hurt like heck, though not as much as my fragile 18-year-old ego, but they didn't bruise. Or rather, they didn't bruise until a week later when, after hours of rollerblading on the Long Beach Boardwalk, I traded my blades back for my flip flops, only to find that the pressure from the blade-boot had brought out the bruises in a wonderfully ribbed gym-sock-pattern all across my shins. (note: this may have qualified for its own embarrassing moment, however, it is clearly acknowledgeable as an extension of the first)

    I mean, seriously. What's with the bruises? I think my roommates are coming in and beating me up in my sleep-- well, if I was able to fall asleep properly, that is. No wonder I have nightmares!

    Wednesday, March 24, 2004

    Losing Silence, Losing Steam

    In this world, I have favorites. It's true. I try to be unbiased, but hey, I'm human. My favorite food genre is Tex/Mex. My favorite movies are White Christmas and Tommy Boy (both for sentimental reasons, oddly enough). My favorite treat would have to be frosted sugar cookies, followed closely by anisette toast. I don't particularly have a favorite color-- they all look good on me. Oh, and my favorite personal attribute is my humility. heh.

    The oddest of my favorites, however, would have to be doors. I have favorite doors in the world. I may, however, have to knock that down to just one favorite door for now seeing as how my 2nd and 3rd favorite doors have ceased providing the service for which they were so adored! There are two doors between my living room and my bedroom. These, until recently, have been two of my very favorite doors in the world. I could close them and seal myself into complete oblivion of apartment goings on and/or catterwalling.

    Alas, the seal has broken, my domain has become, well, noisy. Noisi-er, I should say. Now, not only can I hear my neighbor's phone across the hall, the dog running about upstairs and anyone *ahem* "using the facilities" adjacent to my room or running water of any sort in the bathrooms above or below, now I can all of a sudden hear every little peep from my living room-- to which I had before been blessed to witness sheer silence.

    I think the apartment is revolting. Perhaps it is waiting for May 31st with as much anticipation as I am. For then, we shall be free of each other-- forever! (insert maniacal laugh)

    I just want peace and quiet. Oh-- and a little machine to follow me everywhere and soothe me with the sounds of tranquil ocean breezes.

    Monday, March 22, 2004

    So, I haven't written much it seems. I'm feeling a bit slow of late. A bit lethargic. A bit dreamy, yet not whimsical-dreamy, more why-am-I-awake-dreamy. However, I appear to be most stressed out while sleeping. Go figure.

    I've begun looking into homeopathic wellness options, in an effort to spunk up my over-all lack-lusterness. Vitamins here, vitamins there. Homeopathic remedies are nice because they're more friendly to my messed up internal system. We'll see how they work. AND-- if they don't, the place I bought them from will give me a refund. Let's see Walgreens do that.

    Any way. I would love to type more, but I think I might have to just curl up in a cocoon for a little while. Then perhaps I shall emerge a vibrant monarch ready for spring.


    Wednesday, March 17, 2004

    The South Is Seriously Oppressing Me!

    Ok, perhaps it's just the two stores I tried in my semi-ghetto neighborhood, but I could not find any fun St. Patrick's Day paraphenalia! I find this a serious enough atrocity to blame the *entire* South. Yep. And I bet none of those meat-n-three places will see the necessity for corned beef and hash, either. Stinkin' ghetto south. It's about more than green beer people!!!!! It's about blinking "Kiss Me I'm Irish" buttons* and green bowler hats, too! Not to mention pots of little gold-foiled chocolate coins at the end of shimmering rainbows! And shamrock or better yet, four leaf clover, stickers to brand one's cheek and shout to the world, "YES!! I'm IRISH! I love potatoes and little green men! I may call myself or my friends/relatives 'Micks,' but if you do it, BEWARE my flailing fists!" If it weren't so cold there, I'd go to Boston. Or South Bend, Indiana-- but it's cold there, too. As a matter of fact, it's gotten colder here, too! It's all a conspiracy!!!!!

    *As a disclaimer, I actually had the opportunity to buy a Kiss Me I'm Irish button at a going out of business sale a few months ago and refrained for fear people might actually take it seriously. I only throw elbows when necessary so I'd rather not extend an invitation that would lead to such violence.

    I can't believe it, but a decade ago (A FREAKING DECADE!!!!) today I was in Dublin, Ireland marching in THE St. Patrick's Day Parade. For Cheerleading. Yep. Of course, they made us chant "U.S.A." while we walked-- stupid arrogant Americans, but it was neat all the same. I particularly loved it when the Irish kids started chanting "I-re-land" on the sidelines. What I would have given to join in. = ) As much as they jeered at our chant, however, they didn't seem to mind our short pleated cheerleading skirts...

    Ah, Ireland. I hope to return someday. Especially since then I was 15 and didn't realize the significance of, well, anything. We stayed in a castle and ate a LOT of potato leek soup (which I now happen to enjoy). I think it's also the only place where the same guys hit on my mom AND me in the same go. Not, however, the only place I've seen drunken teenagers falling along the side of the road. hmm. Ah, the carefree...

    May the road rise up to meet you and the wind always be at your back.

    Friday, March 12, 2004

    A) Will's Going Down

    B) For the record, it's actually rather nice here in Chicago. Of course, I am indoors and there is sunlight streaming through the windows. My friend did, however, tell me I looked ridiculous all bundled up after picking me up from the airport-- um, come on-- it was 17-freaking-degrees!

    C) SJD-- I would love to see you this weekend and am going to try to go to Blackhawk Sunday a.m. Call Yooms to get my #. I tried to email you-- didn't work. Silly other-people's-computers.

    D) Ok, this is muy importante. Joss Stone, The Soul Sessions put out by S-Curve Records. She's a (surprisingly white) throw-back to Aretha's soulful tunes of the seventies with a wonderful timeless feel. She even has an Aretha cover, All The King's Horses. She's got more funk than Nora Jones with just as much soul. It's a good mix of get-your-groove-going-funk and chill-yo-self-into-a-puddle-of-vibrato-driven-gelatinous-cool-ballads (ala the Romeo and Juliet Soundtrack's Kissing You). This girl proves that soul isn't bound by race-- because, seriously, what is "race" anyway. Or something. yeah.

    Thursday, March 11, 2004


    Yeah, that's the noise I'll be making A LOT this weekend up in Chicago and around my alma mater the University of Wisconsin-Madison. Yep, might just look like this. Though I would prefer it to look like any of these.

    Laughing not allowed.

    Besides, I'll be with some of the most awesome people ever-- well, aside from all of you, of course. Have a great weekend!

    Wednesday, March 10, 2004

    Do you ever feel yourself slipping away? Just kind of rolling away from your true self, your own sense of self like the tide ebbing into the sea? It comes back again, always comes back. It's a cycle, you see. A cycle of comings and goings. A cycle of highs and lows; of ins and outs. Even though I feel somewhat on my way out right now, I know that I'll come back in to flood the banks once more to stir the pebbled beach, to massage and wear at every single grain, until each granule weathers to a smooth, crystalline bead and the shore awaits my coming. I will set upon it with grandeur and with grace, with presence and with ease. Eventually it will form to me and resist its shifting ways. The wind will no long control its to and fro, for that will be my kingdom. That will be my haven, beaten and caressed into peacefully concaved submission, clinging to my shape, moving at my will. Yes, sometimes I feel I am this tide, this ebb and flow of power and glory.

    And yet, sometimes, I am the shore.

    Monday, March 08, 2004


    I will be absent today as the entire day will be spent checking Dooce's comments. I'm thinking y'all might just be doing the same thing.

    Friday, March 05, 2004

    Born Deaf

    That's right. I was born deaf: 80% in one ear and 50% in the other. I never knew this until after Christmas when my mom and I were driving down to TN from WI. I had tubes in my ears when I was younger, but I always thought it was due to an imbalance problem (which I also had) and had no idea it was to rectify my hearing inability! My mom said she didn't figure it out until I was around three years old. I was in the bathtub and my mom would talk to me. If I was looking at her, I'd respond, but if I was looking away or she covered her mouth with her hand, I had no idea what was going on. Apparently I had gotten pretty good at reading lips (a talent I would pay for now).

    Thinking of my life and my love of music, it's somewhat baffling to think of what my life would have been without being able to hear. It's like that "would you rather" game. Would you rather be born deaf or blind? Well, apparently my body would have rather been born deaf-- although it is definitely allowing my eyesight to degenerate over time.

    Since I've gained knowledge of this news, I have been taking into account various situations in which I can use it to my advantage. What was that you said? I'm sorry, I was born deaf, have a hard time hearing sometimes... In truth, I do have a hard time hearing sometimes. Rather than asking people to repeat themselves over and over, I generally try to just go with the flow and guess what they said. Note: this hardly ever actually works. That's right. I pretty much end up sucking it up and admitting that I couldn't hear them because I've made a fool out of myself. Ah well. To each his own. To me-- the mule award of the day. What? I'm sorry, I can't hear too well-- born deaf, you know.

    Thursday, March 04, 2004

    Legally Binding?

    Growing up I would make contracts with my dad. I would write them out with conditions and rewards and we would both sign them. For example, we signed contracts stipulating payment methods for grades on report cards: $1 for every A, $.50 for every B, nothing for Cs, -$.50 for every D and -$1 for every F. Granted, the last three grades were never actually applicable, but I had to make it seem fair and insinuate incentive. Going into Junior High (grades 7-9) my dad and I signed a contract that if I got straight A report cards throughout all three years he would get me a car (and people wondered why anything less than an A test grade freaked me out). I got my car. I think we also made contracts about chores and vacations. I even made a contract with my aunt stating something about the two of us going abroad after I turned 18 or something. That, sadly, will forever be a contract unmet.

    I returned from lunch today to find this voice mail from my mom:

    "Hi honey, I just wanted to call and tell you know what a little twit you are. I was just going through my junk drawer and looking at some of your old school records in it and in there I found all the little contracts you made with your dad for grades and one of them said If I *father's name* am mean to my daughter, Melissa *last name*, I owe her an extra dollar. *laughing* And you both signed it. I love you, I'll talk to you later, buh bye."

    Hey-- my momma didn't raise no fool. Maybe I was supposed to be a contractual lawyer, eh?
    Are We Surprised?

    Lord of the Rings!

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    Wednesday, March 03, 2004

    D Day

    Off to get my root canal. ok, so I'm actually not that worried, I just hate it when they stick the needle into my gums. *shudder* Not to mention the fact that I'll have a pretty numb mouth for a few hours afterward. woo hoo.

    When it's over, however I will be able to chew on both sides of my mouth, at last!
    2000 zero, zero party over, oops out of time

    Would someone like to bank roll my way to a Prince concert? I'll let you come with-- you know, if you get our tickets. *batting eyelashes*

    Monday, March 01, 2004

    Rainy Day Monday

    Not getting me down. For some reason I don't mind the rain today. It actually makes me smile and feel all warm and giddy inside like being in love--or maybe like being befuddled by someone new. Sometimes it's nice to lose the horizon-- let the pavement and sky bleed into one. I think today's rain is just different. It's March rain.

    Unlike January or February rain which plink into icy pools, March rain starts to feed the earth in preparation for Spring. Yesterday's temps reached sixty-something. The sun shone radiantly and my step instructor bored me so I hit the road for a walk/run. (aside: my knees hate me, a lot)

    I saw robins. Growing up I learned that robin-red-breasts were a sure sign of Spring. However, here in Nashville I've been seeing droves of robins since January. I guess this is where they hang until Spring in Wisconsin--which can be as late as the end of April or middle of May (it can even plunge to 40s or 50s in June evenings). Not here though. Here it's practically Spring in February. My face even got a sunburn on New Year's Eve. Yesterday, however, yesterday I saw a true sign of the nearing springtime. You see, the trees are different. Not incredibly noticeable. Not pains-takingly obvious. It's a subtle difference, one you have to get up close to note. On branch ends and interspersed along the shafts, in the shade of bark, velvety soft buds have begun their worldly emergence.

    You can't have grass and flowers and healthy, blossoming spring plant life without rain. Today's rain should give them some needed nourishment. That makes me happy. And giddy. And somewhat amorous, even amidst the grey.