recycled genius

I got an email this morning from one of my most beloved friends, and she said something about the impending Fall season making her want to sit with me and drink $5 lattes. This season stirs all sorts of "wants" in me, as well. I remembered an entry I posted around this time last year...and I thought I'd re-post it. If this were Wayne's World, I'd wave my fingers through the air and make that little "dullalullalup...dullalullalup" sound; as if to suggest a coming flashback.


The Unmistakable Scent of Crayons and Pumpkin Pie

There is something immensely pleasant about old school buildings. (By “old”, I mean built in the 50’s or before.) My new job requires me to visit various elementary schools on a regular basis, and I think those visitations may just be my favorite part of the job. My own Elementary School (Simpsonville Elementary in Simpsonville, SC) had a definite venerable quality to it. And, while I don’t have an abundant amount of warm memories from that place, maybe that’s where my fondness comes from.

These buildings usually have an impressive stature…the authority of a second story, oversized entry doors, and castle-like stone bricks are the typical greeting. The dimly lit hallways are lined in ceramic tile and mismatched linoleum. The 20 foot ceilings support a skeleton of exposed piping that sings an incessant dirge of clanks and hums. Every classroom is framed by paint-chipped picture windows and olivy chalkboards. I know lots of teachers that brag about their “new” schools and the modern accommodations they provide. But those facilities just don’t have the same character; the same intimacy that older ones do.

Autumn is the best time of the year to be in a school like this. I don’t know that I can really explain why, though. There’s a quote in a movie I like about how Autumn makes you want to buy school supplies…”bouquets of sharpened pencils”. I totally get that quote. It’s partly because kids look so darn cute in sweaters and cotton tights. And I love those big metal accordion wall heaters that hiss and moan when you turn them on in cold weather. It’s partly the decorations….smiley scarecrows with their arms posed in motionless waves, paper mache’ pumpkins, leaves in velvety colors, turkeys with tissue paper tails. It’s partly the way the atmosphere suggests Holiday time….and how that suggestion seems to make everyone a tad bit jovial. It’s partly my own personal correlation between kids and Autumn. There’s something magical about that connection. Just thinking about it puts me in the mood to read the Richard Scary Bedtime collection all snuggled up in a blanket and drink cinnamon cocoa and dress up in a Halloween costume and watch “It’s The Great Pumpkin! Charlie Brown” and eat my grandmother’s stuffing and write an essay about all the things I’m thankful for (not necessarily in that order).

Now, where did I put my argyle kneesocks…..?

It's a wonder that Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy made it through the awkward stage

Today I saw a couple sitting on a park bench holding an umbrella above their heads. There was not a cloud in sight, by the way. Unless they were just crazy, I assume the umbrella was there to block the sun. I smirked at the 1930’s of it all…the Mickey Mouse/Minnie Mouse, Mickey Rooney/Judy Garland quality that it bestowed.

Very briefly, I thought…”Wouldn’t it be nice if romance was still like that?” And then I thought again. In my younger, less experienced, years, I would often make low-browed statements such as that. It seemed to me somehow that things were so much easier “in the olden days”. (“The olden days” can actually refer to innumerous time periods any time before now. Well, any time before 1960, anyway. The 80’s were way too complicated. Right now, I’m referring particularly to the “really olden days”, not the more modern ones.) I would spend alarming amounts of time lost in soliloquies about the simplicity and purity of love and relationships in times past.

The girls always seemed to snag the heart of a devoted man…effortlessly and with an immense amount of dignity…and I was convinced that games were NEVER played. One would catch the eye of another, and within days, a dowry was supplied by the girl’s father and all the women would begin knitting white lace. Do you KNIT lace? Is it embroidered? Sewn? Laser cut? Anyway, whatever the hell you do to make lace, they’d do it immediately. The couple would participate in quaint courting rituals like pushing each other on swings, singing about suries with fringe-lined tops, skipping through fields, and dreaming about the future in front of the fire place. They would never fight…never even disagree. What was there to fight about, after all? (“Who the **** forgot to empty the chamber pot?” “But, I milked Bessie LAST time, you lazy dolt!” “JEZEBEL! I saw you expose your ankle when you climbed into the wagon last night!”) No. Nothing to fight about. Not ever.

Of course, after I watched movies such as Pride and Prejudice, Little Women, Gone with the Wind, and Meet Me in St. Louis , (as well as countless others) I began to realize that romance back then wasn’t all that pretty. Games were ALWAYS played, at least according to the world of film and literature. Complications of class, money, fidelity, and ugly vs. handsome were just as evident then as now. More so, maybe. I’d place a fair amount of certainty on the guess that the only time and place that any couple ever broke into spontaneous and choreographed song was in musicals. Except, many…on rare occasions…in situations of extreme inebriation. And the only reason that couples sat by the fire in silence almost every night was because they didn’t have cable, all the really good bars charged exorbitant covers, and making out was a No-No. They had nothing to discuss because all they did all day every day was harvest corn, pick flowers, and whittle wood. (And when I say “whittle wood”, I don’t mean it in a dirty way.)

I’ve decided that I’m glad to live in a time where romance is…well…romantic. Romantic as defined by no “proper” definition of what is romantic…romance that takes its own shape and style as love between two people designs itself. Disagreements are okay because our opinions are what make us wonderfully unique…and the making up is so much fun. Fireplaces are nice and warm and even amorous…but better when accompanied by scary movies, wine, and some friendly wrestling. I love being able to talk for hours and hours about life and world issues and all the wonderful and horrible things that have made us who we are. I love it that I can dress sexy for my man, talk about bodily functions without being labeled as “imprudent”, and express myself without fear of chastisement. I love it that I can choose NOT to participate in game-playing. And I REALLY love it that I will never be expected to craft any type of household item out of lace. Yes, that’s the detail I’m MOST happy about.


On a significantly non-related note, in the same park that I spotted the umbrella-holding couple that inspired this entry, I often see young, glowing brides-to-be having their bridal portraits taken by the lake. They always look so smug and bridey as they prance around in their dresses. Almost every time I see one, I cross my fingers in hopes that she’ll trip over a tree root or a snoozing duck and plunge backwards into the water. It hasn’t happened yet, but I’m still holding out.

one of the ones who, hopefully, will never stop referring to me as "Aunt Al"

And just when you thought your day couldn't get any better...

And then she woke up...

You know how this goes. Every time I’ve been absent from my blog for quite some time, I always say that I’ve just been “too busy”. It’s true, too. I can honestly say that I’ve just been too busy to write blogs. But nobody wants to hear that. It sounds lame and cliché and unapologetic. What to do, what to do?? And the thing is…I HATE not having time to write. The worst part of it is (like anything else) is that the longer I stray from it, the harder it is to pick it up again. I guess that’s one of the guarantees about life that we can’t escape. Absence…nonactivity…neglect…always heeds an awkward return. We expect to be welcomed back by whatever it is we abandoned like a cheating, unfaithful whore; crawling on all fours while wailing about our intended innocence. Well, here I am again, my absolving blog. The knees of my khakis are filthy, indeed.

Other than writing (my first to-be-published work, preferably), there are SO many other things I’d be doing (either in the immediate present, or in the ongoing) if I didn’t have to spend between 8 and 14 hours working 5 days a week.

Things I Would Be Doing if I Didn’t Have to Work

Reading through the stack of novels I have at home that REALLY do look very interesting. I attempt to read them before bed quite frequently, but I usually manage to fall asleep with the lamp…and my glasses still on.

Traveling. Let’s ignore the fact that if I was, in fact, not working, I’d have absolutely no money and would, therefore, not be able to travel anywhere, ever. Actually, let’s ignore that fact for the duration of this list.

Working out with a personal trainer on a daily basis in efforts to attain and maintain a rock star body.

Learning how to use chopsticks. Apparently, I need at least 5 hours a day to devote to mastering this skill. My wonderful boyfriend pretends to not find my lack of skill pathetic even though his patient coaching hasn’t yet amounted to much improvement. (It’s humiliating to always be the white girl at the table who has to ask for a fork.)

Dancing in public.

Planting and tending to a fabulous garden. If I had somewhere to plant one, that is.

Collecting Fraggle Rock memorabilia.

Watching all the great “classics” that I’ve just never had time to watch. Wait. Scratch that. Most of the “classics” I’ve missed, I’ve never cared to watch in the first place. Which is the real reason why I haven’t. Let’s replace this one with watching the “American Pie” series. That’s more realistic.

Straightening my priorities.

Brainstorming new and more creative names for the colors of Crayola crayons. They wouldn’t even have to pay me. (i.e. indigo= “blueberry parade”, apricot= “clammy flesh”, yellow green= “acidic pee”, and dandelion= “buttery nipple”) Although, I suppose it’s not appropriate to refer to a liquor shot when naming a child’s educational tool.

Spending time with my nieces before they cease to call me “Aunt Al” and start referring to me as “that funny lady that used to be Daddy’s sister”.

Elaborately painting my toenails to represent and correspond with every national holiday.

Watching the clouds.

Flipping turn-of-the-century houses for profit.

Rescuing abandoned and orphaned children from all over the world and sending them to live with Oprah…or maybe even her friend, Gayle.

Hugging strangers.

Mastering the guitar. And then playing it for no one but the people I love. (Bridget included.)

A Dedication

“18th Floor Balcony” and Blue October is one of my favorite songs and one of my favorite bands, respectively. The former is a product of the latter.

I’ve always loved this song. The first time I heard it was live at one of their outdoor concerts and I remember being almost paralyzed by the magic of it. Maybe it was the intensity of Justin’s voice or the haunting of Ryan’s violin. Maybe it was the breeze and the starlight. Or maybe it was the way the words gave me chill bumps.

I’ve thought for a long time that I understood the words to the song; that I related to them from a place of deep personal experience. But I’ve realized somewhere in the course of today that I never REALLY understood them until now.

I don’t live on an 18th floor. I don’t even have a balcony. And I haven’t been on one with you (you know who you are). But we’re still standing on a ledge of some type…overlooking something of immeasurable greatness. Our “balcony” is somewhere a lot less tangible. I could use my own words (and I have) but they're too personal for all to read...so I'm using someone else's.


"18th Floor Balcony"

I close my eyes and I smile
Knowing that everything is alright
To the core
Close that door
Is this happening?
My breath is on your hair
I'm unaware
That you opened the blinds and let the city in
God, you held my hand
As we stand
Taking in everything.

And I knew it from the start
So my arms are open wide
Your head is on my stomach
And we're trying so hard not to fall asleep
But Here we are
On this 18th floor balcony...
We're both flying away.

We talked about moms and dads
About family pasts
Getting to know where we came from
Our hearts were on display
For all to see
I can't believe this is happening….to me.
I raised my hand as if to show you I was yours,
That I was SO yours for the taking
I'm still SO yours for the taking
That’s when I felt the wind pick up
I grabbed the rail while choking up
These words to say and then you kissed me...

I knew from the start
So my arms are open wide
And your head is on my stomach
And we're trying so hard not to fall asleep
But here we are
On this 18th floor balcony...
We're both flying away.

And I'll try to sleep
To keep you in my dreams
So I can bring you home with me
And I'll try to sleep
And when I do I'll keep you in my...dreams

I knew it from the start
My arms are open wide
Your head is on my stomach
We're not going to sleep
But here we are
On this 18th floor balcony...we're both..Flying away.

This is why risking looking like a fool is almost always worth it.

I've always liked the saying "dance like no one is watching". But there's also something to be said for dancing as if the whole world is watching.

Turn the sound on your computer up and watch the video on this guy's website. There's a simplistic beauty about this. I watch this, and I want to be him. Not literally, necessarily. Maybe just in a spiritual sense. Maybe just in my dreams.

http://www.wherethehellismatt.com

Okay, Okay! I Give In.

I was doing SO well for a while, wasn’t I? I succeeded to distribute a steady stream of good reads for over a month, and then, much to my dismay, I just ran out of steam. I was hoping that maybe nobody had noticed I’ve been slacking. Or that, maybe, my recent posts were of such impeccable quality that their influence would carry on for a while and cancel out the need for replenishment. Seems like I was wrong on both counts. shucks.

I had the time to visit Elise’s site (All or Nothing...linked at the left) this morning and immediately experienced two emotions simultaneously. First—joy. I was quite the excited girl to see that she’s posted like 57 fabulous and funny new entries in the past month. And not only that, but she’s upgraded the site with cool fonts and an even cooler fun-looking, cool-vintage, old-timey sexy lady character mascot thingy. Second—shame with a sprinkling of jealousy. I realized that I have to catch up with her now. After all, she’s posted like 57 fabulous and funny new entries in the past month. And not only that, but she’s upgraded the site with cool fonts and an even cooler fun-looking, cool-vintage, old-timey sexy lady character mascot thingy. You tryin to make me look bad, punk? It’s ON, my friend. Oh, yeah. It’s ON.

Who I am kidding? Competition takes too much effort. I’d rather just pretend that we’re equals. Humor me.

There IS one challenge that I’ve decided I can manage to meet. Elise made it a point to mention in her blog that I “DESPERATELY” need a new post and that I should complete the lame little quiz that she agreed to complete per the request of someone else. Okay…so it’s not much of a challenge. But it is one that I can handle. So, here goes.


Three Things that Scare Me:
I’ve actually written quite a bit about fears in the past year and a half or so, but I’ll try to think of some new ones.
1. Moose (They can kill people, ya know. Seriously, they can.)
2. Poverty (Which is why I work so hard to eradicate it from my own life and the lives of others.)
3. Being stuck in an elevator with John Lovitz for an extended period of time. Correction: Being stuck in an elevator with John Lovitz for ANY amount of time. Correction: Being physically stuck to John Lovitz by means of super glue, bodily fluids, or grape jam.

Three People Who Make me Laugh:
1. myself
2. Conan O’Brien
3. almost every single member of my family. Does laughing AT someone count??

Three Things I Hate the Most:
Again…I’ve covered this topic many times. But I’ll NEVER run out of things to gripe about hating. Or hate about griping…whichever makes more sense.
1. Rudeness
2. Ignorance
3. John Lovitz

Three Things I Don’t Understand:
1. Rudeness
2. the ever-growing popularity of “Crocs”
3. the rules to poker

Three Things I’m Doing Right Now:
1. Listening to “In the Name of Love” (a compilation of U2 covers that was recorded to aid WorldVision’s efforts in Africa. It’s an old one that I happened to dig out this morning.)
2. Watching our office cleaning crew fight (rather loudly and humorously) about the CORRECT way to mop.
3. Thinking about all the work that I should be doing instead of writing this blog.

Three Things I Want to Do Before I Die:
1. Write a book!! (at the TOP of MY list, Elise.)
2. Try to be a platinum blonde
3. Stand at the foot of the Sphinx in Egypt

Three Things I Can Do:
1. make people laugh
2. make a mean peanut butter and banana milkshake
3. stay calm in an extreme emergency (as I was just recently reminded)

Three Ways to Describe My Personality:
1. Someone who doesn’t like me might say “over analytical”. Someone who does might call it “insightful”.
2. quirky
3. emotional (interpret that how you choose)

Three Things I Can’t Do:
1. pretend to enjoy the company of idiots
2. anything that involves wearing non-shoe items on my feet. Rollerblading, snowskiing, waterskiing, skateboarding, and stilt-walking included.
3. tolerate the smell of pickles

Three Things I Think You Should Listen To:
1. the rain
2. Kristen’s music…any of it
3. what people are REALLY saying when they talk to you

Three Things You Should Never Listen To:
1. me singing in the shower
2. your neighbors having sex. or people in vehicles outside your bedroom window having sex.
3. Marilyn Manson’s Christmas album

Three Favorite Foods:
1. strangely, surprisingly….sushi is climbing the charts
2. ice cream. Definitely ice cream. This is why Elise and I get along so well.
3. anything with cheese on it

Three Beverages I Drink Regularly:
This is such a boring question.
1. coke
2. milk
3. chai

Three Shows I Watched as a Kid:
1. Pinwheel’s Playhouse (a generic version of Seasme Street that ROCKED!!)
2. General Hospital. Somehow my mother didn’t mind me watching HER soap operas. But she thought that 90210 was “too mature” for me. What-ev, mama…what-ev.
3. Kids Incorporated (I’m completely traumatized that Stacey Ferguson now shakes her ass and pees her pants on stage with the Black Eyed Peas. What happened to her?)

Three People I’m Tagging (to do this):
This is unfair b/c I don’t have many friends with blog sites.
1. Kristen
2. Dancuh-Boi
3. Elise, how about you do it again?? But this time…be funny.