current music obsession

So, these past few years I've found myself getting totally wrapped up in one specific band for a certain length of time.  Like, once I discover them I can listen to nothing else for weeks on end.  These are bands that usually have been around for a while, but I'm only just getting into them for whatever reason.  A few years ago it was Muse (who I still love, but their song for the Olympics was pffffft.  Their new album comes out next month and I'm a little nervous, not gonna lie. Give me Absolution anyday).  More recently, The Airborne Toxic Event's three albums didn't leave my CD player in my car for several months.  If you ever get a chance to see that band live, DO IT.  They are amazeballs.

This past month I've been completely obsessed with The Gaslight Anthem.  I've always liked them- whenever their songs came on XM I'd bop away to them- but after hearing nothing but good things about their new album I finally decided to pick it up.  And now I can't. stop. listening.

I love the way they sound like a punk band, but with some old school, straight up rock-n-roll influences, like Tom Petty mixed with Social Distortion.  They're also compared to Springsteen a LOT, who I never really got into (being a youngster when he was popular, I was more into Wham and Cyndi Lauper back then), probably because lead singer Brian Fallon has a gruff, scratchy voice a la Springsteen.  And they're from Jersey.  But I love the way they paint pictures in my mind with their lyrics- pictures of "simpler" times, full of Cadillacs and white t-shirts and drive-in movies. 

But their songs are also full of heartache, too- lyrics from the chorus of the song "Great Expectations" on their second album hit me right in the sweet spot:

I saw tail lights last night
And I dreamed about my old life
Everybody leaves
So why wouldn't you?

This is their new single and I can't get enough of it.  I dare you not to tap your toes to this song.

Randomness

Today's blog post is not going to have any one central theme.  Mainly because the ol' noggin is swirling around with thoughts right now and I can't focus on any one of them long enough to come up with a coherent, continuous thought.  So here are some of the things I need to just get out of my system. 

1) I'm on a roll with my current WIP.  I officially surpassed 10,000 words last week, and I haven't even really focused on writing it consistently for any length of time so that's sort of crazy.  This one is a lot different from the other two in that I'm basically writing snippets of it as I think of them - it's not following any specific timeline at the moment.  I mean, it is and it isn't.  And I know that doesn't make sense, really, but it is what it is.  And the story is either going to work out the way it's going, or I'll have to go back and put everything in order.  I'm not worried about that right now though.  It just feels good to get words down as they come.

2) Speaking of WIPs, I've been feeling very mehhhh about my last one.  I'm not sure if that's because the new one is going so well, or because I just have been away from it for SO long now, or if I'm just having doubts about it overall.  Third time's a charm, right?  Maybe?  Regardless, I do know with each story my writing has improved.  And that's something I'm proud of.

3) I hate being an adult.  I really, really do.  Right now I'm looking into refinancing our current mortgage, and researching all these banks and rates is mind-numbingly dull to me.  It really needs to get done (see previous post about how broke I am- saving any money monthly would help my situation out greatly), but this is one of those times I wish someone else would just take over and do it all FOR me.  Just tell me what to do.  Better yet, go ahead and set it all up for me and let me know what the outcome is.  Kthx.

4) My sweet gramma has been in the hospital going on a week now, and I'm really worried about her.  It's nothing life-threatening- just some really horrible back pain she's been dealing with a few months- but seeing her usual very active self lying in a bed, all pale and in pain is horrible. I used to meet her for lunch every single Wednesday, and we haven't done that since May because she's been lying low, scared to even get in her car and drive somewhere because of the pain.  I'm making an effort to go visit with her at least once a week.  If nothing else, just to break up her day for awhile and try to make her smile, to feel some sort of normalcy again.

5) My third anniversary with Dan is coming up in about a month already.  Three freaking years.  It feels like just yesterday that I was going for my final dress fitting and tying tiny bow after endless tiny bow on favor boxes.  And then this Halloween will be our ninth year together, which is also crazy.  But I can't imagine my life without him- it's hard for me to even remember my life before him at this point. 

6) My little baby kitten, Gus, is getting so big already!  He's just about six months old now, if I believe the date the shelter said he was born (March 23).  He's the best thing that has happened to us this year, even though at times he does remind us eerily of Ollie.  He's got some of Ollie's mannerisms and the same rattely ol' purr.  But instead of sleeping on my legs at night, Gus LOVES to be right by my head.  Sometimes he even sleeps ON my head- well, on my pillow, curled up near the top of my head.  He has helped my heart heal when I was positive it would be broken for a long, long time.

7) Speaking of cats, I was also hollered at by my ENT about having them because of my severe allergies.  Doooops.  It's just ridiculous how bad my allergies have gotten over the past few years- I swear I never had them this bad in my twenties or teens.  They're so bad that I'll be starting weekly allergy shots - that's right, WEEKLY - for six months to a year to try to control them.  I suppose if I can actually feel healthy and normal again it'll be worth it.  I'm pretty sure I don't know what it's like to be able to breathe well on a regular basis at this point.

All right, I think I've babbled on long enough. 

Happy Tuesday!

shopaholic gets a reality check

You ever have one of those days where you just can't stop worrying about things?  One thought leads to another thought to another thought until a mild panic sets in and your chest begins to constrict and you can't breath and you need to lie down and you wonder how you're ever going to pick yourself up? 

Or is that just me?

Yesterday was one of those days when the reality of my financial situation slapped me across the face, hard.  Leaving a full handprint.

I love to shop.  Love, love, love it.  I'm not one to go out and spend $1,000 on a pair of shoes or a purse, don't get me wrong.  But I love a good deal, and I'm a huge impulse shopper.  If I go to the store to pick up one thing- say, a gift for someone- I will inevitably come home with at least five other things I had no intention of buying.

This has become a problem.  A problem I can no longer deny.  I am beginning to feel like I will never, ever get ahead. 

Now, don't get me wrong, I pay all my bills on time, and I pay more than just the minimum payments too.  My credit is still very good.  But lately it feels like everything is adding up and up and UP and by the time I'm done paying everything I have nothing left to you know, have a social life with. 

I know this is all my fault, I completely own it.  And I've come to the realization that I have to start changing my ways.  No more spending $300 at Kohl's just because I have a 30% off coupon and oh-my-god-look-how-much-stuff-I-was-able-to-get-for-just-$300!!!  I have a closet full of nice clothes, and I have friends who I'm pretty sure will not judge me if they see me wearing the same thing out twice.  There is nothing I NEED right now, besides my sanity back.

Granted, I have come to this very realization at least 3-5 times before.  And well, clearly I haven't been able to change.  As soon as that damn 30% off coupon arrives in the mail, I'm off to Kohl's to buy, well, SOMETHING.  Cuz you can't let 30% off go to waste!!  AMIRITE??

But this time, I'm really hoping to stay strong.  I'm hoping to just flat out avoid going to stores as much as possible until things get a bit more under control- or well, at least until the holidays...

Ugh.  Give me strength.

Back at it- new snippet!

So it's already August...which means summer is officially starting to come to a close.  I have to say, I'm ready for the cooler air and pretty colors that come along with September and October.  What comes after those months- not so much. 

I'm also looking forward to summer winding down because all the crazy activities that have been keeping me so busy and away from writing also begin to wind down!  I can't remember the last time I've been able to sit down on a weekday night, or even a Sunday and write for a few hours.  I know, I know, it's all about MAKING time for it...maybe I've felt a bit like I need a break or something since finishing the revisions on the last one.  I haven't even looked at or thought about that story since I sent it off to my readers.  And that's been somewhat freeing, actually.

However, I actually did start a new story about a month or so ago, which I think I've mentioned before.  I have just over 6500 words written- about 15 pages. I'm hoping perhaps a little feedback will spark my creativity and get me motivated to continue on with this one.  So, without further ado- here's a snippet from the first three pages of my current WIP.  Please remember this is a first draft, so any typos and icky sounding stuff will get cleared up later. 

Thoughts, comments, questions welcome!

* * * * *

The breeze whispers secrets to me as I emerge from the woods and into the fields of the old Patterson farm.  The wishing well looms about a hundred feet away, camouflaged in the tall, yellow grass scratching at my bare legs.  I pause, clutching the paper in my hand so hard it crinkles and almost tears beneath my well-bitten fingernails.  A sharp wind dances across the field, lifting my dark hair off my neck and momentarily cooling me from the hot summer sun.   I stand motionless, listening, and hear nothing but the sound of my own blood ringing in my ears.

No one knows how long the wishing well has been here.  Weeds grow as tall as its crumbly walls that are slick with soft, green mold.  Darkness swallows the inside halfway down, making it impossible to see what lay in its depths.  As children, we imagined countless coins, a veritable treasure, all coated with grime and algae, each one representing a well-thought out wish.  And supposedly, along with the coins, the spirit of Gabrielle King rests, forever drifting amidst the cool stone walls.

Gabby plunged to her death by falling headfirst into the well fifty years earlier, although it is said she actually died of a broken heart.  When her romance with her first love ended abruptly, Gabby was so distraught she visited the well with the intent to cast her in her coin and beg for him to return to her.  No one really knows if she fell in on purpose or not, but her body was finally dredged up out of the well about a month after her disappearance.  A rumor spread in the years following her death:  Gabby became the keeper of all wishes; it was up to her whether or not they were granted.  Gifts other than coins began getting thrown into the well; flowers, letters, jewelry- all tossed in with the hope that Gabby would be persuaded to grant the gift-givers’ desires.

People claim to see Gabby pacing in the fields near the well, sobbing quietly into her hands.  Even when you can’t see her, it’s said if you listen close enough  you can hear her desperate cries floating up from the bottomless well.  It’s a sound of pure, aching sadness, the pain of a heart shattering like a crystal vase thrown violently to the ground.

And I’d never believed any of it.

A memory overcomes me as I stare at the well, and pain slices through my heart with icy talons so quickly I almost drop to my knees.  I take a few deep breaths as it all comes flooding back to me.

It was my junior year, the autumn before last, the air cool and crisp and ripe with the smell of burning leaves.  Parties in the Patterson fields were common that year, starting up as soon as the school year did. I leaned against the well beside Connor, urging him to go talk to Amanda Kappler, the girl he claimed to have a crush on the entire summer and who didn’t know he existed.  She was several yards away with a group of girls, standing as close to the bonfire as they could without getting burned, holding their hands out to it to warm them from the chilly night.

“I can’t, Janie.  She’ll just laugh at me,” he insisted.

“Come on, don’t say that.  You’re a total catch,” I told him, smiling into his chocolate brown eyes.

He threw his head back and looked up at the sky.  “I’m not like you.  I can’t just go up to people and pledge my undying love to them.”

"When have I ever done that?”

“Well, let’s see.  There was Jack Rubinsky.  Adam Francis.  Colin Peck-”

"All right, all right.  God, you’re making me sound like a whore.”

Connor looked at me then and grinned, and I remember thinking at that moment his smile was the most beautiful thing in the world.  It light up the dark night like a meteor shower, sparkling stars falling all around me.  “You’re not a whore.  Just someone who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to go after it.  Or him, as the case may be.”

"Ok, whatever.  You want Amanda?”

He bit his lip and nodded, but looked uncertain for some reason.

“Then this is what you do.” I scooted closer to him and nuzzled my nose into his neck, inhaling his fresh, soapy scent.  I felt him stiffen beside me.  “You go up to her like this,” I murmured, placing one hand on his cheek and turning his face to mine.  “And give her a kiss she’ll never forget.”  I touched my lips gently to his, pulling back to look him in his shock-filled eyes.  I’d only ever kissed him on the cheek, and felt a small jolt run down my spine as his lips lingered briefly on mine.  At first, I thought it was from just the chill in the air.  “You do that, and she’ll melt in your arms,” I breathed, our noses almost touching.

I hadn’t been expecting him to grab me, to twine his fingers in my hair and tug me back to him, his mouth moving over mine with a passion I didn’t know he possessed.  We sat there against the well, the stone wall cold on our backs, kissing, touching; practically consuming each other, while the party behind us raged on.

Connor and I had been friends, best friends, for over a year at that point and in that time not once had either of us made a move towards the other.  I was always dating someone and breaking up with them, and Connor was always my shoulder to cry on when it ended.  As it turned out, it was me he’d wanted all along, not Amanda, not anyone else.  All it had taken was that simple kiss to give him the courage to express how he really felt about me.  And it was as simple as breathing from that kiss on to just be with him.  I’d fallen in love with him at that precise moment, encircled by his arms, leaning against the wishing well.  But I think I’d already loved him since the day we met.

And now it looms before me, dusty and lonely in the vast field of the long-forgotten Patterson apple farm.  I can see offerings to Gabby scattered around the well’s base, sunlight glinting off the trinkets and papers.  This is where it all began for us.  It only seems appropriate that this should be where another new beginning can take place, too. 

Because right now, in a hospital bed several miles away, Connor is fighting for his life.  And it is all my fault.

Memory Lane

You know how getting into a super hot bath or shower almost hurts at first, and you have sort of eeeeease your way in, one toe at a time?  But then once you're in, it's soothing and relaxing and just generally feels GOOD?  That's how I feel the way my life has turned out.

The other night while frantically searching for my new camera's charger (we're leaving for vacation in two days and you can't possibly go on vacation without a camera, amirite??) I stumbled across an old journal from junior high and high school.  If I have one word to describe my teen years, it is CONFUSED.  Oy.  I got completely sucked in to reading this thing, and hooo, let me tell ya.  That was some good reading.  I was alternating between laughing and cringing at myself for a good half hour.  The junior high entries were less, shall I say, melodramatic, than the high school entries, but the common theme of confusion was woven throughout every page.  I was confused about who I was, who I wanted to be, my relationships with my friends (not to mention any boy who might've crossed my path and shown any sort of interest in me whatsoever), my future and what I wanted from it...the list goes on and on.

I realize now that it really took me well into my twenties to just relax and be comfortable with who I am.  I think I let the hot water sting me for way too long, but as I get old I no longer felt the need to impress people and change myself to conform and fit in.  I am who I am, take it or leave it.  And judging by the amazing friendships I have these days, there are several people out there who choose to take it.  Including my sweet husband, who doesn't judge my sometimes dorky behavior but actually seems to love me for it.

This is not to say that I don't still display cringeworthy behavior from time to time.  But now I'm much more able to laugh at myself and move on, rather than dwell for days, weeks, or even months on something.  I just sink into that soothing hot water until only my face is left peering out, take a deep breath, and remember to be thankful for all I have.

The Healing Process

The last post I wrote about Ollie started with something like "It's hard to believe we've gone a full week Ollie-free".  Well, now almost a full month has gone by.  Sometimes I still think I hear his collar jangling as he's coming down the stairs, or I think I catch a glimpse of him sprawled out in front of the sliding glass door as he basks in the sunbeams.  But for the most part, I have accepted that he's gone and that I'm always going to miss him.  Always.

That being said, I've been somewhat antsy to get over my sadness.  There's just been this weird void hanging over me, like something is missing.  And so the obsessive searching for an orange kitten began.  On Monday, I checked out a few more websites for area shelters, since we still haven't heard back from the one where we put our names on a waiting list for a kitten a couple weeks ago.  Fate clearly stepped in when I stumbled across this little guy's pic on the Parma Animal Shelter's website:

His name was Nemo.

And. I. Had. To. Have. Him!!!!

As soon I got home from work, I called the shelter to see if he was still available.  After a few moments of someone shuffling around papers as my heart thumped frantically in my chest, the lady came back and said yes, he was available but they'd have to contact his foster mom first.  She told me the foster mom would call me back and let me know when I could meet him.

Oh well, so a little more waiting wouldn't kill me.  At least he hadn't been adopted yet.  Then the doubts started setting in...what if he HAD been adopted and their files hadn't been updated?  Five minutes and many worried thoughts later, my phone rang. 

It was the shelter again, calling to tell me that Nemo was actually at the shelter, and I could come see him anytime.

GAHHH!!

I called Dan and told him the good news.  He had some running around to do and wouldn't be home in time to get to the shelter with me, so I said we could just go on Tuesday.  But then he said, but what if someone else snatches him up tonight? 

GAHHHHHH!!

So I ran out the door, jumped into my car, and was at the shelter about 5 seconds later.  Or at least that's what it felt like.

I spotted Nemo immediately, dozing in a little kitty hammock in his cage.  He didn't even budge when I poked my finger in and stroked his fuzzy cheek- dude was OUT.

(My computer is not allowing me to flip that pic around...sorry)

Anyway, so one of the shelter workers came up to me and asked if I was interested in Nemo, and I said yes, absolutely.  So she lifted him out of his comfy spot and took us back to a caged in area so we could get acquainted.  He was very groggy at first and just lay there in my lap, letting me pet him. 

Then a ping pong ball caught his eye.

And then the tube on the floor for him to run through did.

And then the ribbons dangling from the wall did.

And then the ping pong ball did again.

He zipped back and forth through the tiny room, chasing evvvverything.  But when I held my hand out, he'd come right to me for head bumpies, sometimes even flopping on the ground for belly rubs.

Needless to say, I was in L-O-V-E.  Big time.

I signed the paperwork and paid the adoption fee, but unfortunately he is still due for one more shot on Friday.  So I couldn't take him home with me that night.  It was so hard to leave him there!  But he'll be coming home tomorrow, and really, that works out for the best.  I'll have time to go home and get his "room" all ready for him, and then we'll have the whole weekend to get him acquainted with Stew and the house and us. 

Oh yea, and his name has been changed to Gus.  Augustus Oliver Nativio, named for my favorite character in one of my favorite books by John Green, and of course, my Ollie.

Welcome to the family, Gus!!

Miss Independent

Now you all have that Kelly Clarkson song in your head.  Sssssssorry.

Anyway, this weekend the husband is out of town on his annual road trip to Indiana to visit a college friend.  It's one of the rare occasions when we're away from each other for more than a night, so I have a few days to myself at home.  Of course I have plans made- happy hour tonight with Barra, and cousin/pedis/shopping/couch/wine/snacks time tomorrow with Cleen- but for the most part I'm on my own.

And I'm actually like, really, really looking forward to it.

This is nothing against my husband, not at all.  I love spending time with him and having him around, of course.  I miss him when he's not there, making me laugh at night before we go to sleep and stuff.  I'll be very happy when he gets home safely on Sunday afternoon.

But it's weird to me how much I've changed over the past several years.  God, I used to completely panic at the thought of being alone.  It was strange, because I have always considered myself fairly independent.  Except about calling to order pizza, I hate doing that.  There was a strange period of time in my mid-to-late twenties though when I couldn't bear the thought of just sitting around the house by myself, especially on a Friday or Saturday night.  I always had to have some sort of plans or schedule.  Always.  It's almost painful and embarrassing to think back about those times.

But now...now the thought of an evening in, just enjoying the quiet and my dumb TV shows and perhaps writing or reading a bit is like the best thing ever.  Does this mean I'm old?  Probably.  But regardless, no longer do I panic over the thought of chilling out by myself with no one to talk to but the cat.  I love it.  I totally look forward to my "Joanna" time and cherish those rare moments when I can just sit and be me, all by myself.